Empire of Desire: Epilogue 2

“Don’t cry…I’m here…” I croak, patting my hand on a chubby chest and holding another chubby bottom so she can suck on my breast.

Only…I’m not holding anything. I’m not sitting down either and I’m only touching the mattress.

I startle, my eyes flying open.

Our bedroom comes into sight with the pulled-down curtains that make it dark even though the clock on the wall reads ten in the morning. I fumble for the baby monitor, my heart beating so loudly, I hear it in my ears.

Holy shit.

Shit.

Where are my babies? I clearly remember falling asleep breastfeeding Lily and rocking Logan back to sleep around two in the morning.

Did I lose them somehow? Nate spends one night working late in the office, one night, and I lose our twins?

They’re three months old—I think I got pregnant that day before Nate’s birthday a year ago. As soon as we found out the news, I was ecstatic, but that can’t be said about everyone else. Dad wondered if I was going to be fine with law school and everything, but I told him that if he could do it, so could I.

Besides, Nate never let me do anything on my own. He took care of me more than before and even tolerated my brat attitude more than ever. I was an emotional mess in the first trimester and cried over the stupidest things, but Nate just wiped my tears and hugged me.

Then he proceeded to fuck me because that totally helped with the hormones—or that’s what I told him, anyway.

He rubbed my swollen feet and held my hand through the whole delivery process. Though, I’m pretty sure both he and Dad threatened to sue the doctor and the hospital because they wouldn’t ease my pain.

Being doted on by one protective man is one thing, but having both Dad and Nate can be a nightmare sometimes.

Only sometimes, though, because I’m a lucky girl to have the best father and the best husband in the world.

A husband who enables me every step of the way. Just because I decided I want kids now doesn’t mean he let me slack off law school or put it on the back burner. He knows that it’s my dream and it’s important, too.

Which is why he takes care of our newborns most of the time, even though there’s a nanny. He reminds me of Dad, who didn’t trust them around me when I was younger and always watched them through cameras and such. He often reminded them of the legal action he could take against them, too, because he can be extra like that.

Nate is similar with our children, but his methods are more subtle. He doesn’t threaten anyone, but he can get his point across with his normal manner of speech alone. That delicious, stern manner that I can’t get enough of.

Our twins, Logan and Lily, are a handful to say the least, but Nate successfully puts them to sleep. Last night was the only time he was going to spend an all-nighter at the firm since their birth.

And I obviously screwed it up because there’s no sight of them.

Tears sting my eyes and I’m about to have a meltdown of epic proportions, but I notice a Post-it Note on my upper arm.

I command Alexa to turn on the light, and all the breaths I’ve been holding instantly deflate out of me when I read the words written in Nate’s beautiful, distinctive handwriting.

The twins are with me and King in the garden. Sleep in and don’t worry about anything.

P.S. Happy birthday, baby girl. I have plans for us as soon as I kick your father out. In the meantime, I left you an early birthday gift on the bedside table.

All fear about my babies’ safety vanishes and it’s replaced by furious warmth for their father. Just how the hell did I end up with this man? Every day, I wake up more in awe of him than the day before.

My gaze falls on the box on the bedside table and when I open it, I find a photo album inside. The first page has a picture Dad took of me and Nate while we each held one of the twins. My face is filled with happy tears and Nate is kissing my forehead.

Our first family picture.

Before I can get all emotional, I spot a folded piece of paper on the album’s jacket. My fingers are a bit unsteady as I open it and instantly recognize his handwriting.

Gwyneth,

I met you the day you were born.

King freaked out when he found a baby at his doorstep and thought it was a good idea to call in his nemesis for crisis control.

Truth be told, I planned to make fun of him and his carelessness, but when I got to his house, you were crying your head off and he was flustered until I told him you were probably hungry.

He pushed you in my arms and flew to the kitchen like a madman. It was the first time I held a baby and it was pretty awkward at best, but then something happened.

You stopped crying.

Just like that.

You stared at me with those colorful, inquisitive eyes that somehow pierced through my chest.

Since then, you have always held a special place in my life. I might not have been a doting uncle, but I believed that I cared about you as much as King did. Which is why I made sure no one bullied you or gave you a hard time. Sort of like I did with my nephew.

But you ruined that six years ago.

When you kissed me on your eighteenth birthday.

When you got on your tiptoes, ignored all common sense, and crashed your lips to mine as if you’ve been waiting your whole life to do it.

In that single moment, you demolished every picture I had of you. Instead of being like my nephew, you planted other images in my head. Images I shouldn’t have entertained for my best friend’s much younger daughter.

I shouldn’t have thought about lifting you up in my arms, slamming you against the nearest object and kissing you until you could only breathe me.

But I did.

And I hated you for it.

Not only because I lost the easy relationship I had with you, but also because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t think of you as King’s daughter anymore.  

Those two years were pure fucking torture, baby girl. I struggled so much between doing the right thing and taking you anyway. It’s why I avoided being in the same room with you; I couldn’t trust myself not to fuck up everything and hurt King. Especially since I had no idea how deep my feelings for you were.

However, once you became my wife, my self-control spiraled out of control. I blame your lively energy that I was never allowed to have and your determination that can break stones.

Even one as solid as me.

You didn’t only break me in, but you also mended all the broken parts together again. You did it carefully and with so much love that I can’t imagine my existence without you anymore.

Without your cheerfulness.

Without your empathy.

You added colors to my life that are as bright as the ones in your eyes. Every day I wake up to those eyes and your contagious smile, I feel like the luckiest bastard alive.

Thank you for choosing me.

For not giving up on me.

For being my wife and the mother of my children.

Love,

Nathaniel

A tear slides down my cheek by the time I finish reading.

Is it possible to fall in love with someone all over again? Because I think I just did. I’m so irrevocably into this man that it scares the shit out of me sometimes.

He said he can’t imagine his life without me, but it’s no different for me. I can’t picture a world where he isn’t in the middle of it.

I can’t picture a world where he’s not my husband and the father of my children.

Carefully tucking the letter into the photo album, I place it on the nightstand and get out of bed. I do a quick work of freshening up and wearing the first pair of shorts, tank top, and sneakers I find, then I run outside.

I find Nate holding Lily while standing up, and Dad sitting down, rocking Logan as he sucks on a baby bottle.

The view of my babies never gets old. I think I fall in love with them more every time I see them. They’re so small and innocent and I want to give them my life.

And the reason I have them is right there, appearing larger than the world, as always.

Nate is wearing black slacks and a white button-down that accentuates his muscular frame. I swear the man has been getting even more handsome over the years. It should be illegal for someone in their forties to look so deliciously attractive, but I’m not really complaining.

He’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and he will always be.

I jog to him, wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him and Lily, then I get on my tiptoes and kiss him. He holds our daughter with one hand and pulls me to him with the other, deepening the kiss.

My senses skyrocket as I melt in his embrace, and I get lost in his addictive taste. No matter how much he kissed me, the intensity never disappeared. In fact, it feels earth-shattering as that first time he claimed my lips by the side of the pool.

He’s been kissing me for years, but it still feels as if he’s kissing me back for when he didn’t kiss me on my eighteenth birthday.

He’s been kissing me for years and I can’t get enough.

I probably never will.

“Morning, husband,” I breathe when we break apart.

A dark gleam of desire shines in his eyes as he speaks low, “Morning, wife.”

“Thank you for the birthday gift. I love it and you.”

A clearing of a throat comes from behind me before Dad appears by our side, carrying Logan and glaring. “I’m over here, in case no one noticed.”

“Hi, Dad.” I kiss his cheek.

“So now you have a dad?”

“Your jealousy is showing, King.” Nate smirks at him.

“You shut up, daughter stealer.”

“Dad.” I grab his arm, laughing, and he just shakes his head. Since he’s overprotective, it’s impossible to have him stop throwing jabs at my husband anytime he gets.

Even if he loves how much Nate takes care of me.

“And stop your PDA in front of my grandchildren. Give me Lily.” My father basically snatches her and holds each of the twins on an arm as he speaks to them. “You two prefer your grandfather anyway, don’t you?”

I smile as he takes them back to the house, but it’s interrupted when Nate wraps his arms around my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder.

“Have you slept well?” His words against my neck draw a shudder out of me.

“Yeah, and I just had the best morning.” I turn around to face him and flatten my palms against his chest. “Thank you for the photo album and that letter. I will cherish it until I die.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Too late. Already learned it by heart.”

He smiles and I’m trapped in it. In how easily he does it around me. Sometimes, it feels like I’m the only reason he smiles and I selfishly love it.

I love that I’m his world as much as he’s mine.

“Happy birthday, wife.”

“Happy anniversary, husband.”

A small frown appears between his brows. “Anniversary?”

“For the day you fell in love with me.” I stroke his cheek. “It was a few years after me, but it’s okay. You’re stuck with me now.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, baby girl. You’re the one who’s stuck with me.”

And then he flings me close to his body and kisses me with a passion that seals my fate.

Our fate.

I’m his and he’s mine.

Probably ever since I was born.