She can conquer the world, in her sensible shoes and knee-length dresses, not giving a damn about what anyone thinks.

I take her hand, kiss her palm and guide it to my raging erection. I’m always hard for this woman. Always.

“You mean the three of us?” I grin into her lips, and she clutches my jeans, a little too hard for my liking.

“You know what I need?” she asks, and for some reason, there’s sweat coating her beautiful forehead. I cock one eyebrow.

“I need you to drive me to the hospital. My water just broke.”

“I knew you were hard for me.” I lick her neck, and she punches my arm. Hard.

“Jaime!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll grab your bag.”

Fifteen hours later, Melody and I welcome our first daughter, Daria Sophia Followhill. My parents are boarding a plane from San Diego to see her. They’re excited. Mel’s parents are coming, too, at the end of the month.

My father still doesn’t know about mom and coach Rowland. I never told him. There was never much point.

He doesn’t love her, and she doesn’t love him.

They have so much money. So many means. And here I am, with a wife and a new baby, still cut-off from their fortune because of the choices I took.

And I’m happy, because I don’t need money. I have my girls, and that’s enough.

It. Is. Everything.

THE END