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his as I speak. Then I kiss him because he’s mine. I know we’ll face more challenges and messes, but it won’t matter because while both of us are far from perfect, we’re perfect together.

Epilogue

Poppy

 â€śWhat happened next?” Crosby asks. “Did you win the game, Dad?” His hazel eyes are as bright as Paxton’s and as round as mine, his dark blond hair, short and perfectly mussed just like his dad’s.

“Of course he won. Daddy always wins,” Amelia says, leaning back on Crosby’s pile of pillows, her red hair fanning out as her smile shines. Despite their two-year age difference, the two are inseparable, even at bedtime.

Paxton sets his hand on my shoulder, the heat of his hand curling my stomach with promises and desires that have me leaning back against his warmth. Ten years later, he’s still my own personal sun.

“They did win,” I confirm. “And then they went on to win the national championship.”

“That wasn’t the important part of the story, though,” Pax says. His thumb stroking along the side of my spine.

“Then you got drafted to Louisiana,” Crosby says, knowing where this story goes.

Pax nods, pulling in a deep breath as he looks at me, a dozen memories being shared with that single look. It was a hard year, an emotional and messy year, but it was also a really wonderful year. Paxton shined like the star we knew he was and I worked toward earning my degree in teaching and we visited each other every chance we got, stealing moments and time like trained thieves. “I did,” he says.

“And then you were traded to the Seahawks,” Amelia pipes, squeezing the stuffed football she has been sleeping with since birth.

I smile. “That’s right.”

“Are we going to be hearing a lot more stories tomorrow?” Amelia asks.

I nod. “Definitely. But, you have lots of little cousins to play with.”

“They’re not really our cousins,” Crosby corrects, literal and precise.

Pax grins. “They’re your cousins,” he insists. “Blood doesn’t always determine family. Every one of the guys here is my brother.”

I lean closer to my husband, my ring catching in the light as I lift my hand to brush Amelia’s hair out of her face. “Daddy’s right. These guys are a part of our family and they always will be. Now, you need to get some rest. I love you guys to the moon and back.”

“I love you to Jupiter and back,” Crosby says, hugging me tight.

I grin against the narrow column of his neck. “Tomorrow, you will definitely need to sit with your Aunt Chloe. She knows all the cool space stuff.” I press a kiss to his forehead, and then hand him his stuffed elephant.

“Do you think Aunt Liv will let me write a book with her one day?” Amelia asks.

“Without a doubt,” I assure her, pulling her in for a tight squeeze. “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” She kisses my cheek before I can kiss hers. It’s a game with us, one that elicits the best and loudest giggles from my five-year-old.

Pax lies across both of them, holding most of his weight on his knees as he growls and pretends to squish them. Giggles and threats are sounded as Amelia and Crosby shriek out a plan of defense and retribution. My heart is so full as I watch my world in one tiny space filled with mess and laughter and so much love.

“Ten minutes of quiet chatting and then you’ve got to go to sleep. Aunt Raegan and Uncle Lincoln are coming tomorrow with the twins,” I say.

Amelia laughs. “They come over every day.”

“Not every day,” I correct her.

She tilts her head to the side giving me a dose of full judgement.

“Okay, most days,” I relent.

Pax laughs. “Goodnight. We love you. Don’t forget it’s your turn to make breakfast in the morning. I’m expecting blintzes.”

“Dad,” Crosby draws out his name, not appreciating the joke.

“Okay, okay, I’ll accept pancakes. Ten minutes,” he reminds them, but Crosby’s rolling his eyes again, making me grin.

I flip the lights off and make sure their nightlight is turned on. Pax waits for me by the door, his gaze following me. He places a hand on my hip and pulls the door shut behind him and then pulls me to a stop and turns me in his arms, his hands secure around my waist, drawing me close. “We have the coolest kids.”

“It’s a good thing they take after their mom.”

Adoration and humor shine in his eyes. My husband was sexy at twenty-two, now at thirty-two he’s obscenely sexy. His body is still hard and defined, his smile still quick and genuine but now more confident, and his eyes are still mesmerizing and distracting blue gems that I often get lost in. But, in addition to his flawless appearance, Pax is still the same loyal and playful, and hard-working individual, now though instead of worrying about college and rumors and classes, he has found his stride in being an amazing father, a noted athlete, and my life partner.

“You’re so fucking right,” he whispers, bringing his lips closer to mine. “Think they’d all believe us if we told them we fell asleep?” His fingers brush along the globe of my ass, as he dips his lips to my collarbone.

I slide my arms around his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. He’s been gone for the past three days for a game and while this has been our norm, the trips still feel too long. “We could lie and say we had to read extra books. It might buy us fifteen minutes.”

“Thirty.” He places his arm behind the back of my knees and sweeps me into his arms, eliciting a giggle from me that makes no sound because his mouth is on mine, kissing me senseless. He weaves down the hall and into our room, closing the door with his foot before setting me on my feet. Ten years later he still smells of pine and cedar and something that is uniquely him, and

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