CHAPTER HUNDRED & EIGHTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER HUNDRED & EIGHTY-EIGHT
KYLE
We made it out of the sugar-coated battlefield alive.
Barely.
Ashley was curled up on the couch, her heels kicked off, a cupcake in her hand, and the top button of her dress undone in that way that made my brain short-circuit. Her hair was loose again—somewhere between goddess and gremlin, thanks to Nina’s frosting-filled fist—and her makeup was smudged just enough to make her look like she’d survived a baby rager.
I leaned against the kitchen island, sipping water, watching her like she was the best part of the day. Because she was.
“I can’t feel my feet,” she announced, flopping her head against the backrest. “Violet handed me her Pinterest board and somehow expected me to become a florist-slash-baby whisperer-slash-face-painting ninja.”
“You killed it,” I said, walking over and dropping onto the couch beside her. “Ugh Nina is really frustratingly cute”
Ashley elbowed me lightly. “Don’t act like you’re not obsessed. You’re already wrapped around her tiny frosting-slinging finger.”
“I am,” I admitted. “She blinked at me twice and I started calculating college funds.”
Ashley laughed, but I saw something shift behind her eyes—soft, lingering, thoughtful.
She leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around her instinctively, the way I always did now. Like I’d been missing that shape pressed against me for years without realizing it.
She just grinned, but then… something in her expression shifted. The glow from the light caught on the silver edge of the baby photo strip Violet had given us—Nina giggling, Violet laughing, Ryan’s hand cradling both their faces—and something quiet settled into the air.
Ashley’s voice dropped. “She looks like Violet.”
“She’s got Ryan’s weird baby eyebrows though.”
A small laugh slipped out of her, but it didn’t last.
“You ever wonder what our baby would’ve looked like?”
My heart cracked right down the middle.
She didn’t say it often. Almost never. And I’d never pushed her to.
But here it was.
Raw. Brave. Gentle.
I stepped closer. “All the time.”
Ashley looked down at her fingers, tracing the hem of her dress like it was fragile. “I think about them sometimes. Who they would’ve been. What kind of laugh they might’ve had. Would they have liked peanut butter? Or hated it like me?”
I reached out and took her hand. She didn’t flinch. She just gripped mine back like it grounded her.
“I used to picture their room,” I said quietly. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it until you were gone. I’d walk past the spare room and wonder what color we would’ve painted the walls. If we’d have fought over wallpaper.”
Ashley gave a watery chuckle. “We absolutely would have.”
I nodded. “And I would’ve let you win.”
She looked up at me, eyes shimmering. “You would’ve hated the wallpaper.”
“But I would’ve loved you more than I hated it.”
She blinked quickly, then pulled me into a hug so fast my breath caught.
We stayed in silence for a long time. Wrapped in each other. Mourning something that would always live inside us, and maybe always ache.
But then she pulled back and said, “So, just hypothetically... if I said I was thinking about maybe, someday, possibly... considering the idea of trying again—”
I turned my head, looking down at her. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers were absently brushing over her abdomen, like her body had already asked the question for her.
“I think about it everytime,” I said honestly. “More than I ever thought I would.”
She blinked up at me. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Not in the panicked, ‘oh my God, are we ready’ way. But in the quiet way. The hopeful one. The one where I see you rocking Nina, and something in my chest just… hurts a little, in a good way.”
Ashley smiled, but her eyes shimmered. “That’s exactly how I feel.”
We sat in that quiet for a long second.
Then I said, “Can you imagine how chaotic our kid would be?”
She snorted. “With your smugness and my dramatics? That baby would be a threat to national stability.”
“She’d probably come out rolling her eyes and asking for iced coffee.”
“She?” Ashley raised a brow.
“Just a guess,” I said, grinning. “But I feel like I’m destined to be girl dad material.”
“You did survive Nina’s frosting assault with grace.”
“It was a test. I passed.”
She reached for my hand and laced her fingers through mine. “I’m not saying now. Not this second. But someday?”
“Someday,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “Whenever you’re ready, freckles.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “God, you’re annoying when you say things like that.”
“But you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Kyle shifted beneath me slightly and murmured, “Okay, but serious question.”
“Mmm?”
“If we ever have a kid…” he paused. “Can I pick the name?”
I pulled back and gave him the look. “Absolutely not.”
His jaw dropped. “Wow. Not even a discussion? Democracy just died on this couch.”
“This couch runs on a dictatorship, my love. And I’m the Supreme Leader of Naming Rights.”
Kyle snorted. “Okay, Supreme Leader. Let’s say I wanted to name our son... Storm.”
I blinked. “Storm?”
“Storm. It sounds powerful. Brooding. Like he has a sword.”
“Kyle,” I said slowly. “That’s not a child. That’s a Marvel villain.”
He grinned. “Exactly. Cool, right?”
“I’m not birthing a supervillain. Try again.”
“Fine. What about something classic? Like... Chad.”
I made a gagging sound. “We’re not naming our baby a frat boy. Next.”
He groaned. “Okay, you go. Enlighten me with your Supreme Leader wisdom.”
I grinned, curling into him again. “If it’s a girl... maybe Elara. Or Solene. Something soft, magical.”
“Hmm. Sounds like someone who owns a bookstore and knows things about moon phases.”
“Exactly,” I said proudly.
“And if it’s a boy?”
I paused. “Something strong. Not macho, just... rooted. Or Luca”
Kyle shifted beneath me then whispered, “You’d really want to do that again? After... what happened?”
I hesitated, not because I didn’t know the answer, but because saying it out loud felt like cracking open a part of me I’d sealed shut.
“I think…” I said, voice trembling a little, “I’ve healed enough to want to try. With you. But I also think if we never do… I’ll still be happy. Because I already have everything.”
Kyle kissed my hand gently. “You make it very hard not to fall in love with you all over again.”
“Good,” I whispered. “Because I plan on making you do it every day.”
He smiled, warm and slow, and pulled me closer until I was tucked completely into him.
“You’re gonna make me cry in a hoodie,” he murmured.
“You started it.”
“Should we cry and name our future daughter Elara tonight, or wait till morning?”
I snorted. “Let’s see how you handle feeding Mochii breakfast tomorrow. If you survive that, maybe we’ll talk about babies.”
He grinned against my temple. “Deal.”
And we stayed like that—curled up on a couch that didn’t match the rest of the decor, in a living room that still had half-unpacked boxes and a very judgmental cat, dreaming of a someday that didn’t feel so far away anymore.