I looked between Colt and Lilah, my chest softening. Something about the way he stood next to her—not just close, but anchored—made me realize this wasn’t sudden. Maybe the news was, but not the bond. Not the choice.
He was in love with that woman. I had no doubt.
“You okay?” I whispered, mostly to Lilah.
She met my gaze and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Sawyer moved behind me, his hands landing gently on my shoulders. He leaned down and murmured in my ear, “You think if I announced something this crazy, it’d go over half this smooth?”
“Depends,” I whispered. “Wanna knock me up and see?”
He huffed a laugh, kissed the side of my head, then said, “I could make that happen.”
I didn’t say anything for a second. I just stepped into him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my face against his chest.
“I love you,” I whispered.
Life was different now. Slower, steadier. For the first time in a long time, it was mine.
And I wasn’t living it alone.
Epilogue
SAWYER
A few years later…
There was a baby sleeping on Ellie’s chest, a guitar sitting next to her, and grass tangled in her hair, and I swear, I’d never loved her more in my life.
She was lying in the yard behind our house, completely at peace. Just her, the sun, and the tiniest human I’d ever seen, snoozing like he owned me.
Which, technically, he did.
I was barefoot on the porch, holding a glass of lemonade I one hundred percent made from scratch. Like, squeezed the lemons, used the juicer, probably made a huge mess in the kitchen that Ellie would pretend not to notice.
“Hey, hot mama,” I called, stepping into the yard. “Brought you something citrusy and possibly too sweet.”
She glanced over and smiled—and just like that, I was gone for her all over again. “You really commit to the barefoot husband aesthetic, huh?”
“Babe,” I said, making my way across the grass, “I was born for this role.”
She patted the blanket beside her, and I dropped down.
Our son, Neo, shifted against her chest, and Ellie soothed him without thinking. She was wearing one of my old hoodies, no makeup on, hair twisted into something messy and soft. She looked more like herself than she ever had.
The breeze kicked up a little, and Ellie shifted closer. Neo made a tiny sighing noise, one hand curled into his mom’s hoodie, the other tucked against her cheek.
I traced a fingertip along his sock-covered foot. I still couldn’t believe he was real. Thatthiswas real.
“You know, I used to think football would be it,” I said. “Like that’d be the biggest thing I’d ever accomplish.”
Ellie didn’t say anything right away. She just let me talk.
“But it wasn’t the game,” I said. “It was this. You. Him. All the other babies you let me knock you up with. And all the quiet things no one claps for. This is it.”
She turned her face toward me, her eyes warm. “You’re way too good a dad—and a DILF at that—to be made only for a sports ball game.”
She laughed.
