“We are a little weird and life’s a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with our own, we join up with them and fall in the mutual weirdness and call it love.”

The finest Seuss-ism to date. Words I live by.

The tang of salty air itches my nose soliciting a sneeze. The scorching yellow sun hangs high in the crystal-blue sky, heating my skin. The wind swirls around me, a cocoon of comfort and a feeling of home.

I’m currently nestled under the checkered shade of the pergola, settled on the slope closest to the shoreline. My legs stretched out just enough for the waves to crash and lap at my toes and prosthetic.

My eyes travel to the ringing of the tablet grasped firmly in my hands, and I tap, accepting the incoming call that crosses on the screen. I’ve been patiently waiting for an answer from international intelligence for months. Special Agent Acton Verity pops up on the display.

“Ay up. Are you on holiday, mate?” Acton asks and attempts to shade his eyes from the blinding light coming through the camera.

“Hey, Acton. Sort of, we’re chillin’ at the Blackwood family beach home for the weekend. But I’ve been waiting for you to call. How’s it going?” I acknowledge and respond in kind.

Acton Verity is part of a high-priority team of investigators tracking international terrorism. He’s around Mac’s age and was born in the heart of Britain. Acton has only been part of the squad for a year, but already he’s making a name for himself. The youngest of his group, he’s received accolades from even the Queen.

Acton played a key role in locating and taking down a known faction in Iraq. His actions in the field catapulted him into the thick of things and his current position. We met in south Florida after the Cabricci take-down. At the time, he was searching out information, following the trails which led to the cell and generated justice to be served. In turn, it resulted in expanding our private network, a new comrade in arms. Everything’s interconnected.

“Jolly good. Is it a bad time?”

“Nah. I’m just enjoying the view and waiting on my wife to come back down,” I say, turning my head in the direction of the beach house.

Just how long does it take a pregnant woman to pee? I should’ve followed her up. If not for the anticipated call, I would have. And Addie’s incessant badgering to help her sister kept me planted on the sand.

“How is the expectant mother faring?” he inquires, breaking my train of thought.

“Yeah. Good, thanks. She’s close, really close, man. Scares the shit out of me at times, because I don’t want her to break. You feel me?”

“Bloody hell. Do not ask me, mate. Not my cup of tea.” He chuckles, and I follow suit.

“I hear you, man. Never thought this would be me either. Until I met Sage.” I exhale thinking about my princess and her very pregnant situation. Gorgeous. Shaking my head, I’m back to business. “So, did you find something? I assume that’s why you’re calling me on my holiday,” I joke, attempting to stay focused on the conversation.

“Ah, yes. Blimey, slippery fool. I’m arse over tits working it out. Remember our last chat, we heard chatter of his survival. All circumstantial, of course, until last week, when fire brigade dug up earth from a recent bombing and uncovered cryptic information in regard to the later. A hard drive containing messages endured the blast. It’s not official as of late. However, for all intents and purposes, the cheeky bastard is still out there.” Acton’s voice relays dissatisfaction.

“Wicked fucker. I knew it. My gut’s been screaming he made it off the yacht. It was too much of a coincidence that we didn’t have more resistance that night. Something or someone tipped him off.” My voice is annoyed from the news I hoped would never come.

Fucking Mustaf survived the night of the explosion thirteen months ago. And we may have a rat in the wheel house.

“Apologies, mate. It does ‘suck balls?’ Is that the correct term you like to use?” Acton questions, garnering another round of laughter from the both of us.

“Yeah, that’s the one, Acton. Crazy fucker. Thanks for the insight, bro. Not really the news I wanted, but at least we know to keep a sharp eye out and watch our backs.”

“If you need anything, you know how to locate me. Cheerio.” Acton terminates the call.

Unfortunately, this story isn’t over. As long as Mustaf is out there, I’ll be looking.

Turning around, I witness the mind-blowing view of my very pregnant Sage as she waddles back and forth, down the sandy incline. Her back arched with her hands clutching her spine, baby belly jetting out so far it boggles the mind how she can even walk. It’s a sight burned into my memory.

I quickly jump up, my lengthy strides eating up the space between us. The sand somewhat an obstacle with my bum limb, but I make it to her in no time flat. Leaning in, I plant a quick kiss on her sun-kissed cheek and swing her up into my arms before she can complain otherwise.

“Dammit, Lukas. You can’t move a pregnant woman like that. I don’t bend very well right now,” Sage growls and then lays her head on my chest.

My Sage is a very independent woman. But not with me. At least not anymore. She’s learned to accept what I give her, and she craves every minute of it. I’ve tamed the flight or fight in her. She’s tamed the giant in me.

We’ve finally found a balance. I’m not the same man I was at the beginning of this journey. Hell, I’m not the same man I was a few months ago, or a few minutes ago for that matter. My life with Sage has opened my eyes to a world I never dreamed I could have. A world we’re building together. Mine and hers alone.

“Thank you,” a placated Sage whispers into the crease of my neck.

“Anything for you, doc. How are you feeling? The baby still moving a lot?” I ask.

“And then some. I think I’m going to give birth to a toddler instead of an infant by the looks of my belly and the way the baby constantly kicks me. Other than that, I’m good.” The exhaustion in her voice tugs at my heart.

“Here, let’s get you settled, and I’ll rub your back and feet. How does that sound, babe?”

“Sounds absolutely perfect.”

“Are you having fun, princess? Besides the obvious baby lump the size of a watermelon protruding out of you.”

“Such a romantic, my Hulk,” she fakes flattery, scrunching up her shoulders, and bats her eyelashes. “But, yes. This has been a great weekend. Did you see the Keagan cannonball? Little Sebastian’s laugh is intoxicating and infectious. And my girl Harper is rocking the skis. Don’t even get me started on the conversation I overheard when Ollie and Grady were trying to teach Moose and Cal how to grill.” She laughs out. “I don’t think we’ve had this much fun since Grandma passed away. Things have changed for us, and it’s unmatched. Grandma would be so proud. I miss her, we all miss her.” The sadness is rolling off her.

“She’s still with you. Just not in the way you want. Yeah?” I try to appease her heartache.

“True. I see her all around. A part of her lives on in each of us. Fallyn’s sassy ways, Jocelyn’s love for everyone, Grayson’s determination, and Addie’s motor mouth. Yeah, so she’s still with us,” Sage offers her understanding of the way she views it.

“You forgot yourself in your synopsis, princess. You inherited one of her best qualities,” I whisper in her ear, still clutched in my arms.

“Really? And what would that be?” she asks.

“Sage’s wisdom,” I say, gazing into her wise eyes as I lean in to kiss her puckered lips.

“You spoil me, Lukas. Man whom I love beyond reason. What did I ever do to deserve such happiness?”

“Well, for starters, you saved me, doc. Not to mention, any girl who gets a taste of this body can die a happy lady,” I smile, even as she punches my arm. “Damn, Sage. I still don’t get how you pack such a punch.”

“Ha. A lady never tells. Besides, you deserved that,” she counters, and I settle her onto the sand.

I sit at her feet and grab one foot, hoping to rub and massage the tiredness away. Sage carrying my child relegates worship in all forms. This being the only way I can help her carry the load, so I’m all over it.

“Mmmm. That feels so…oh.” Sage stops in mid-sentence and reaches out to grab her massive stomach.

In an instant, I feel her body stiffen and snap my head in her direction. The pain on her lovely face causes my blood to pump rapidly in my chest, adrenaline coursing inside.

“What is it? Are you okay, Sage?”

She doesn’t say a word and commences to scrunching her face up, eyes closed. Pain is evident. Her breathing comes in short, shallow pants before I realize what’s happening.

Snapping to attention, I coach her, “One, two, three, breathe. One, two, three, breathe.”

I move to her head, cradling her neck and rubbing the stiff muscles in Sage’s back.

In a few minutes, her breathing turns normal again.

“Oh, my God. That hurt,” she breathes out, fatigued.

The Braxton Hicks contractions, better known as premature labor, started a few weeks ago. Dr. Peterman mentioned it was totally normal at this stage in the pregnancy. Actually, they usually start around six weeks from delivery date, so Sage has been lucky. Pre-labor contractions go away; only when they become regular do we have to worry.

Another punch in the arm arouses me from labor thoughts, and I ask, “Now, what did I do?”

“This is all you fault, mister.” She points at her belly and huffs. “If it weren’t for you and your, uh, your uh, charming personality, I wouldn’t be in this position. Now, would I?” Sage ends her ranting, and I can’t help but laugh out loud.

“Charming, huh? Well, thank you, Mrs. Rogers.” I laugh and place a gentle kiss on her cushioned head.

“You’re one sick puppy, Mr. Rogers,” Sage replies in astonishment of my comment.

“Hey, never a dull moment. Remember?”

“Dully noted. Wait a minute. Is the tide coming in already?” she asks.

“Not yet. Why, princess? Are your feet getting wet? I can move us up some.”

“Holy shit-cakes, Lukas. I think my water just broke.”

I reach down and pull on her coverall, hiking it up, and my hand turns up wet.

“Um. Didn’t you just come back from the bathroom, babe?”

“Duh. What is it, Lukas? I can’t see over the big bulge.” She laughs and tries to peer over her extending stomach. Just as another contraction begins, “Oh no! It’s coming ag…”

“One, two, three, breathe, princess,” I chant while guiding Sage through the activity. Not wanting to alarm her, I continue, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Focus on my voice. The contractions are a few minutes apart. I think it’s time, Sage.”

When her breathing has returned to normal, she nods and I jump to my feet. I help an unbalanced Sage up, and then grip behind her knees, swinging her into my arms.

I trek up through the shifting white sand to the house, hollering out, “It’s time. The baby’s coming. This is not a drill, folks. We need to get to the hospital, stat. Move it, people.”

The scene instantly turns into pandemonium, almost like an old black-and-white silent film. Excitement hums in the air as the adults run around frantically, gathering bags and handing off children.

Jocelyn and Fallyn follow us to the Suburban, and Keagan continues barking orders to the ones left at the house. All the little ones staying behind in the well-capable hands of Harper, MacGyver, Grayson, and Ella, as well as the other Trident team members. The same drill we’ve practiced and accomplished over and again as a team, since our women started having babies.

“It’s okay, baby sister, just keep breathing. We’re right here with you,” Jocelyn says, and Keagan scoots into the driver’s side, cranking up the motor.

Sage is draped across my lap in the back row, labored and flushed from the exertion of energy. I continue to massage her back, shoulders, and arms, while I whisper soothing sentiments.

In between the Lamaze exercises, I glance around the packed vehicle. Keagan is speeding through the streets, a matter of minutes from the hospital destination. Fallyn and Jocelyn are seated in the middle row, turned around, facing us with heartfelt eyes. Oliver is in the front passenger seat, talking on the phone with the hospital, alerting them of our ETA.

These people are my family, my best friends. Individuals who would lay down their life for mine and have my back in any circumstance.

We zip down the road to hospital, all together, to share in another important moment in our lives. In this moment, I realize I'm the luckiest bastard on earth. To have a tight-knit group of brothers and sisters, a family who’s always looking out for the other, causes a lump in my throat.

A delicate hand grips my bicep, and my gaze travels back to Sage. Concentrating on her task. Readying herself for what’s to come.

“I love you, princess,” I declare again, trying to take her mind off the pain.

“Of course, you do.” She smiles with an intensity that would bring me to my knees if I were standing up. “But not as much as I love you, Lukas.”

“Not possible, babe. Besides, I’m the lucky one is this relationship. Thank you.”

“For what, Hulk?”

“For loving me. For saving me. For making me yours forever.”

Another contraction hits Sage hard, and we breathe through it as the hospital comes into view.

“If it’s a boy, I want to name him Liam, and if it’s a girl—”

I interrupt, “Matilda, and we’ll call her Mattie.”

The tears flowing from her eyes verbalize her feelings about the name.

“I love it. That’s perfect, Lukas. Thank you,” Sage replies.

It’s an unusual moment for her, for us. Welcoming a new addition to the family, passing on a name that belonged to a wonderful woman. A woman who will forever be remembered and missed.

The beauty of what Sage brought into my life has forever changed me. Today marks a year and a half since I began my full assault in Arkansas of making Sage mine forever. It’s pretty ironic that today of all days, our baby will make an appearance.

This is our life.

This is our happily ever after.

The journey we’ve traveled to get here hasn’t been easy. The road ahead will likely be bumpy. But in the end, there’s no place I’d rather be than with Sage, and the family and friends we’ve gathered along the way.

In the end, life is short and needs to be lived to the fullest. And when I stop and look around, this life, my life, is pretty amazing.