Epilogue
Blade
“What about Peter? You know, in honor of Dr. Peters?” I smiled down at our baby, my heart squeezing when I studied his little round face.
“It’s just such a grown-up name for a baby.” Wyatt rubbed his chin. “What about Mason?”
I scrunched my face. “Nah.”
“Ethan?”
“Nope.”
“Liam?” He looked annoyed when I shook my head. “James, Alexander, Pinocchio?”
I rolled my eyes. “Your mother likes the name Peter.”
He squinted. “You’re using my own mom against me?”
I shrugged. “It’s been a week. The poor kid needs a name. We can’t just keep calling him baby.”
“I’m well aware of that. We need to put a name on the birth certificate soon.” He sighed. “You really want Peter?”
“Pretty sure me and the baby wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Dr. Peters.”
Wyatt stilled and sat on the sofa next to me. “Don’t say shit like that.”
I twisted my lips and didn’t say anything.
He leaned toward me. “Do you hear me? Don’t say things like that. I don’t want to think about how close it was.”
“We’re fine.” I sighed. “Don’t get all stressed-out.”
He touched the baby’s cheek. “Hey, baby, do you want to be called Peter?”
I laughed. “Wouldn’t it be funny if he said yes?”
His lips twitched. “It would be terrifying.”
I pressed my lips to the baby’s smooth forehead, inhaling his clean scent. “He always smells like oatmeal cookies to me.”
Wyatt snorted. “That’s because I’m the one who’s mostly been changing his poopie diapers.”
“Yeah. True.” I met Wyatt’s affectionate gaze. “You’ve been great. You’re so good with the baby.”
“It’s my turn to pick up the slack. You carried him in your body for three months, the least I can do is change some stinky diapers.”
“If you think I’m going to fight you for the privilege, think again.”
Wyatt stood. “Okay, I guess Peter works.”
“Seriously?” I widened my eyes. “You agree to Peter?”
“Yeah. You convinced me.”
“Hey, Peter. Do you like your name?” I cooed to the baby.
Wyatt glanced around the living room. “We have to pack up and head home tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “It’s been nice hiding away from the world up here in the mountains.”
“Thank goodness for Skype or my mom might have had a nervous breakdown not getting to see the baby.” He moved into the kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of formula from the fridge, then set it in the bottle warmer. “I promised her we’d stop at her house on the way home.”
I smiled. “I figured.”
“You did?”
“It’s her only grandchild. I’m surprised she didn’t show up here in a taxi already.”
He chuckled. “She threatened that many times and I talked her out of it.”
“Good.” I met his gaze across the room. “It was nice just the three of us.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It’s been amazing.”
My body flushed with warmth at the amorous look in his eyes. “I’m holding a baby in my arms. Are you allowed to look at me like that?”
He smirked. “You’re my omega. I can look at you how I want.”
“Dr. Peters said I’m healing quite nicely.” I licked my lips. “We’ll have more privacy once we get home.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Me too.” I sighed. “Now you have me all turned on.”
He grinned. “Good. Why should I be the only one with blue balls?”
I laughed and glanced down at our baby. “Careful or his first words might be blue balls.”
“He’s a week old. They don’t start talking till they’re like five or something, right?”
“What?” I grunted. “No. They say words as early as eighteen months.”
“Shit.” I winced. “I mean wow.”
I studied our son’s chubby pink cheeks and fuzzy blond head. “It’s hard to believe they just handed him over to us like we have any clue what we’re doing.”
“Why do you think Trina slept here for the first four days? She wasn’t helping us, she was protecting the baby from his bumbling fathers.”
I laughed. “I have no doubt.”
He brought the bottle over. “Can I feed him?”
“Of course. You don’t have to ask permission.”
Once Wyatt was settled on the couch, I carefully put the infant in his lap. He smiled down as the baby greedily latched on to the bottle nipple. “He’s hungry.”
“Always.” My heart tightened at the sight of Wyatt holding Peter. He was so gentle and sweet with our son, it made my chest ache. “I love our little family unit,” I whispered.
He glanced up and his eyes were warm. “Me too.”
I moved to where I could rest my head on Wyatt’s shoulder, without hurting my stitches too much. “And I love you, old man.”
He grinned. “Back at you, punk.”
I chuckled and nestled closer to the ones I loved.
<<>>
IF YOU ENJOY MY BOOKS, PLEASE CONSIDER LEAVING AN HONEST REVIEW! ALSO, JOIN MY MAILING LIST FOR NEW RELEASE INFORMATION.