She begins to cry.
“So I’m not going to be pregnant and homeless?”
“Of course not. Wait, what did you say?”
Caity cries harder because emotions have gotten the better of both of us now.
“I’m pregnant, Travis. I’m expecting your child. I just found out, and you know we used protection every time, but contraception is imperfect.”
I gather her close to me, one big hand resting on the small swell of her belly.
“You’re pregnant, Caitlin? I’m going to be a daddy?” I ask in a stunned voice.
“Yes Travis,” she sobs into my throat. “And I love you too.”
Suddenly, my heart shudders and I claim Cait’s mouth with my own. After all, this is what I needed to hear. After this incredible clusterfuck, now the clouds have cleared and suddenly nothing matters anymore. I love this woman, she loves me, and we’re expecting a baby together.
“I’ll make this right,” I promise in a hoarse voice. “I’m sorry this ever happened. I adore you, Caity. More than life itself, and I adore this child too.”
With that, she throws her arms around my neck, sobbing with laughter and tears because my words have hit the mark. I love this woman more than I’ve ever loved anybody, and with her and the baby, I’ll be happy for life.
Epilogue
Caitlin
* * *
Two years later.
Travis kisses the top of my head.
“Stop fussing over the cake. Peony’s two. She won’t notice if the cake isn’t perfect.”
I laugh. Travis is right, of course, but I can’t help it. The perfectionist in me wants our daughter’s second birthday cake to be amazing because what if Peony remembers this day? What if she remembers having an awful cake that was lopsided with gunky frosting? I could never live with myself.
Meanwhile, my little girl reaches for the pastry from her daddy’s arms.
“Not yet, sweet pea. We have to wait for Auntie Cammie to get here.”
“Cam!” she mouths happily. “Cam-Cam!” We both laugh because Peony loves her godmother, even if she can’t speak yet. Our daughter’s face always goes bright upon seeing Cammie, eager for attention. Plus, Peony has been developing her vocabulary a lot over the last few months. She can almost make full sentences, although she prefers to randomly shout out whichever word she likes best.
Then, my daughter buries her face in Travis’s shirt. He’s wearing one of my designs today, and it looks flawless. It’s made from upcycled denim, and the material is a worn-in, faded blue, emphasizing his hard chest and bulging muscles. I’m glad Get Pressed has been doing well because I consider it my second baby, after Peony.
But the path hasn’t been easy. After the confrontation with Fiona, Travis had a restraining order taken out against my ex-stepmother. She is no longer permitted to be within a hundred feet of me, Travis, or our child. He let her keep the fifty thousand he’d already paid, but wouldn’t fork over any more cash. After all, it was never hush money to begin with. He just wanted her out of his hair as he got to know me.
But now, Travis and I are together, and he has our daughter too. As a result, Fiona’s been banished from our life, and we never see her anymore. Last I heard, my stepmother’s flitting about New York City, living on the last of the money Travis gave her. Once that runs out, I have no idea what will happen. Hopefully, she doesn’t come around here again.
The doorbell rings and I practically run to answer it. As soon as I open the door, Cammie tackles me with a hug.
“Hey lady, I’ve missed you!”
“Me too! How are you? How is your graphic design business?”
Cammie grins. “It’s going really well, actually. This never would have happened without your help. Thank you again for hiring me to make business cards and promotional materials for Get Pressed. I hope you’re getting a lot of customers as a result.”
I hug her again. “Yes, we have been, and you are uber-talented. Thank you, Cams.”
Then, I drag her into the living room and my friend looks around with awe.
“Oh, wow, you’ve redecorated since I was last here! It’s gorgeous!” she compliments.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Oh by the way, Travis is here, and so is his brother. Troy’s visiting for just a bit to say hello to his favorite niece.”
My friend spins around because she didn’t see the two men upon entering. Both Travis and Troy get up from the couch, but Cammie only has eyes for one of the alpha males. I get it. Troy looks just like his brother, except he’s a tiny bit taller with huge shoulders. Whereas Travis is more toned and athletic, Troy is downright huge.
“Heyyyy,” my friend sings with interest in her eyes.
I laugh.
“Cammie, meet Troy. Troy, Cammie.”
That’s all I have to say, and they’re off to the races. Soon, Cammie and Troy are talking animatedly in the corner about something or other. I drag my boyfriend to the kitchen to give them some privacy.