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I rise on my toes and kiss him again. "Yes, Daddy."

His eyes darken further, and he lifts me carefully, carrying me to our bed. We lose ourselves in each other the way we have so many times before—his touch reverent and possessive, my body responding to every whispered word of praise and affection. Afterward, we lie tangled together in the dark, his hand resting protectively over my belly.

I look at our joined hands in the dim light, resting over the new life growing between us, completely certain of the future we chose together.

Epilogue: Four Months Later

BROCK

Late afternoon sunlight pours through the French doors of our sunroom, painting the hardwood floors in broad strokes of pale gold and soft green.

I stand near the kitchen counter with my mug in hand, doing what I find myself doing most evenings now: simply watching my wife.

Megan is nearly eight months along, her belly rounded and prominent beneath a soft sage-green maternity dress that hugs every lush, beautiful curve of her body. She's barefoot, humming something under her breath as she arranges a stack of children's board books on the low shelf of the bookcase we moved downstairs. Her dark hair is pinned up loosely, wisps curling against the nape of her neck, her skin flushed with that unmistakable, radiant warmth that has made her look even more breathtaking with every passing week.

I take a slow sip of coffee, my chest tight with a sensation so heavy and full it borders on an ache.

She's already arranged to take the entire upcoming school year off from teaching, wanting to spend the baby's first year at home. Whether she'll return to the classroom after that remains her choice, and whatever she decides, I'll support her completely. That possessive streak in my chest is never going away—I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to keep her right here, safe and close—but Megan's wishes come first, and I'll give her everything she needs to build the life she wants.

"Daddy, look!"

The slap of small bare feet on the hardwood breaks through my thoughts. Kayla comes bounding around the corner from the dining room, holding up a large sheet of construction paper covered in bright yellow and pink crayon.

"Look what I made for the nursery," Kayla announces proudly, skidding to a halt beside Megan.

Megan immediately turns, a bright smile lighting up her face, and rests one hand on the curve of her stomach as she looks down. "Let me see, sweet girl."

"It's us," Kayla explains, pointing a small finger at the crooked stick figures. "That's Daddy, that's you, that's me, and that's the baby. The baby is holding a balloon because I'm going to share all my toys."

"It is perfect," Megan says softly, kneeling down as far as her belly comfortably allows so she is eye-to-eye with Kayla. She reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind Kayla's ear. "We are going to put this right above the crib so the baby sees it every single day."

Kayla beams, throwing her arms around Megan's neck in a fierce, unprompted hug. Megan catches her easily, kissing her temple with a natural, effortless affection that never fails to make my throat tighten. They love each other fiercely, with an easy, unforced bond that grew out of patience, respect, and Megan's boundless heart.

"Go wash up for dinner, kiddo," I say, my voice rough around the edges as I set my mug down. "Pasta will be ready in ten minutes."

"Okay!" Kayla chirps, already dashing toward the hallway bathroom. "Don't start without me!"

The room falls quiet again, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the rustle of the spring breeze through the trees outside.

Megan stays where she is for a moment, letting out a small, amused huff as she uses the bookcase to help push herself up to her feet.

Before she can take a step, I close the distance between us.

I slip my hands around her waist, catching her weight, and pull her back against my chest. Megan lets out a soft sigh of relief, melting into my hold, her head resting back against my shoulder.

"You're hovering, Counselor," she teases gently, though her hands immediately find mine.

"I'm admiring," I murmur into her hair, pressing a kiss to the warm skin below her ear. "There's a difference."

Slowly, I slide my palms down the soft fabric of her dress until both of my wide hands rest over the taut, round swell of her belly. The moment my palms settle, I feel it—a sudden, sharp flutter, followed by a firm thump against my right palm.

A quiet laugh rumbles in my chest. "Active already."

"Very," Megan whispers, her fingers lacing through mine over our baby. "I think they heard their sister talking about sharing toys."

I turn Megan slowly in my arms until she's facing me. Her brown eyes look up into mine, completely clear, completely open, stripped of every shadow of doubt that once lived there.

"I love you, Megan," I say, letting every ounce of the devotion I carry fill my voice. "More than I ever knew it was possible to love someone."