"Not funny," she grumbled when our kiss ended. She toweled off, then did an adorable waddle over to where her robe was hanging on the back of the door. "I really need a lime milkshake."
"I'll make it happen," I assured her, pulling out my phone and searching for the food delivery app. One of her favorite restaurants had recently been purchased by my personal company and would make anything she wanted on demand. Not that she knew, but I wanted her to have everything she could possibly need.
"Ugh, Dylan..." Brooke groaned as I typed her order into my app.
"Dessert too?" I guessed with a laugh.
She groaned again, and there was a sound of water splashing onto the tile floor. At first I thought the tub had somehow overflowed again, but then I saw the pale, stricken look on Brooke's face.
"Pretty sure my water just broke," she told me, totally unnecessarily.
"Oh shit." I breathed. Then a second later, burst into action. I tossed a towel on the floor so she wouldn't slip, then raced into the bedroom to grab her hospital bag and pull out some comfortable clothes for her to put on. All the while, I was speed-dialing the birthing unit at our hospital and letting them know we were on our way.
"Dylan!" Brooke shouted as I started racing out the bedroom door with her bag under my arm.
I turned back to her in a panic, my heart in my throat.My baby is about to be born!
"What? What's wrong? Is the baby okay? What's going on, Brooke?" I'd officially lost all my chill.
She shook her head, slowly pulling on one of my zip-up hoodies. "I'm fine, Dylan. Baby is fine. But we won't be unless you get that burrito and lime milkshake delivered to the damn hospital."
I blinked at her a couple of times, then burst out laughing. Then I realized she was dead serious and pulled my phone back out.
Whatever my girl wanted, she got. Now and forever.
Epilogue Part Two
Brooklyn… Five more months later…
The house was virtually exploding with Christmas. “It looks like Santa had a massive fucking rager in here,” Jasper said loudly as he all but tumbled through the front door. Evan followed close behind, wearing the ugliest fucking Christmas sweater I’d ever seen, with red fuzz and a huge green bow right across his broad chest. Ugly sweaters were our theme this year, and he’d taken the challenge literally.
“Nice sweater, Ev,” I said, chuckling as he hugged me tightly.
“Had to have this baby specially made,” he said proudly. “I better win the fucking top prize.”
“Where are your ladies?” I asked them both, and they looked like sad, half-drowned cats now.
“With their families,” Evan said with a sigh. “But they’ll fly in tomorrow to spend the afternoon with us.”
They both had lovely girlfriends who were busy and important people. At least they’d be here tomorrow.
“Gotta keep my sweater on for her,” Evan said proudly, puffing his chest out.
I laughed again, pulling the door open further to allow the others entrance. Dylan had been the one to insist that we host Christmas this year for our little Willow. On our baby bird’s first Christmas, we wanted all of our family here.
Watching Dylan with our daughter would’ve made me fall madly, deeply, and completely in love with the man, if I hadn’t already loved him with every fiber of my being. He was the sort of father I had only dreamed of existing, loving on both of us until I almost couldn’t remember the sad, pathetic life I’d lived not even two years ago.
Thank fuck.
“Brooke!” Riley exclaimed, bursting through the entrance and throwing her arms around me. “Missed you, sister-in-law. Now where the fuc—frack is my little niece.” She glared at me, like I was deliberately keeping “her Willow” away—which was almost as amusing as her attempts to clean her language up when she was around the baby.
Beck distracted her by walking into the room, his face set in resigned lines and a very fluffy red-gold-and-green sweater stretched across his biceps as he tried to balance about seven armfuls of presents. “You could have made two trips from the car,” Riley said, exasperated. “Or let me help.”
Beck glared daggers at her. “Over my dead fucking body, Riley Beckett. You will be carrying nothing for the next eight months, so help me god. I will shoot anyone who makes you lift a finger.”
She smiled at him like he wasn’t a complete psychopath, and honestly, I got it. Dylan was the same, and while it might be a touch over the top, for them, it was how they loved. And I’d never felt so much love.
Riley shook her head, muttering something aboutdriving her insane for the next eight monthsas she linked her arm through mine and dragged me off into the main living area, where we had the majority of tonight's event set up. It was Christmas Eve, and we were starting a new tradition that was going to carry on into our kids’ lives—kids that Riley and Beck were adding to the group in just eight or so short months.
