125: Happy Anniversary
SERA
I should have been on edge after receiving a confirmation that my ex-husband was truly alive. But no, I had the best sleep of my life. Killian returned sometime after midnight. I vaguely remembered him whispering "Happy anniversary" and kissing my cheek while I snuggled further against my pregnancy pillow.
The next morning, I wobbled into the backyard like a very pregnant giraffe on roller skates, clutching a tote bag full of snacks, towels, and life's miscellaneous essentials.
My husband had left a note asking me to come to the pool.
Killian was already there, half-submerged in the pool with Rue perched triumphantly on his shoulders. He really shouldn’t be getting his stitches wet. Ugh!
"Morning, Angel," he drawled, his blue eyes glittering with mischief. "Are you ready to join the chaos?"
"Define chaos," I said, placing a hand on my belly and trying not to trip over my own feet. "Because from here, chaos is making me get wet this morning, and that is a bad idea."
Rue squealed, kicking the water with ferocious enthusiasm. "Mommy! Daddy! Come in!"
I groaned dramatically, pretending that the heat and pregnancy were conspiring against me. "Do you see my knees? Do you see my thighs? This is a hazard zone!"
Killian's grin widened. "Sounds perfect for a swim."
I sighed. Fine. If I was going to join the chaos, I'd do it like a queen. Slowly, I lowered myself into the water, immediately getting drenched in a way that made me reconsider all life choices that had led to this very moment. Killian's laughter rumbled in his chest as Rue clutched at my arms like I was a human floatie.
"Three years old and already bossing us around," I murmured, kissing Rue's wet hair. "I see how it is."
Rue giggled and splashed me. I retaliated, and suddenly it was war. Water flew everywhere. Killian pretended to be mortally offended when a rogue splash hit his nose. "Traitors!" he shouted dramatically, running a hand over his face.
I barely held it together laughing, glancing down at my massive belly. Even heavily pregnant, there was nothing I wouldn't do for these two. Nothing. My heart felt like it might actually burst from how completely full it was.
After an hour of pool antics, we dragged ourselves out, dripping and laughing, to dry off in the sun. I pulled out my phone and snapped a few shots—Killian's hair plastered to his forehead, Rue grinning like a mischievous little angel, and me, waddling in the background looking like a very glamorous walrus.
"Selfie time," I declared. Killian groaned. "Do we have to?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "It's mandatory. And yes, we'll wear these ridiculous glasses." I produced a pile of oversized novelty sunglasses from my tote, including a tiny pair for Rue.
Killian raised an eyebrow, holding up a pair with hearts over the lenses. "Do I have to look like a disco villain?"
"Yes. Absolutely. And Rue's glasses must be bigger than her face. It's the law of fun."
Rue squealed as we all clumsily put the glasses on, laughing. I snapped picture after picture, capturing the pure joy radiating from my little family. Killian even attempted a "serious model pose" before Rue burst out laughing, accidentally smacking his shoulder. I caught it all, my heart swelling with this ridiculous, overwhelming love.
Rue grinned and made a silly face, Killian tried to mirror it, and I...well, I went full dramatic, over-the-top pout.
"Perfect," I said, snapping multiple photos. "This one's going on the fridge. And this one. And this one. And maybe the rest can be my new screensaver—"
My statement trailed off as Rue and Killian kissed me each on one cheek. I couldn't help but grin, warmth flooding my chest.
After our photo marathon, we ended up sprawled on the deck, sharing ice cream cones—vanilla with sprinkles for Rue, chocolate for Killian, and pistachio for me (because clearly, I needed something fancy to celebrate my impending meltdown at nine months pregnant).
Killian, of course, decided he couldn't eat his without somehow tasting mine, which quickly turned into me pretending to fend him off with my cone.
Rue joined in, 'accidentally' squirting little blobs of ice cream onto his nose. He made a dramatic face as if he'd been grievously attacked, and I lost it.
"You're evil," he said, finally leaning in to lick my cone.
"Only for you," I murmured, laughing so hard I almost fell off the chair.
Rue cheered, clapping her tiny hands. "Daddy, you're sooo silly!"
I rested my hand on my belly, feeling the twins squirm inside as if they were joining in on the laughter.
"Mommy loves you all so much," I whispered. "My little chaos squad. My heart. My everything."
Killian caught my gaze, his gentle eyes shimmering in the sunlight. "I think we're unstoppable like this," he murmured, brushing a wet strand of hair from my face. "Just the three of us...soon to be five."
I grinned, leaning into him, feeling ridiculously, impossibly happy. For this moment, nothing else mattered.
....
By mid-afternoon, Rue was utterly worn out, her little ice cream-sticky face pressed against my shoulder as she napped on the lounge chair. Killian carefully carried her inside, and I followed behind, carrying towels and pretending to look exasperated.
"Do you realize," I said, as Killian gently laid Rue onto the couch, "that you just played in the sun, swam in a pool, and got smothered in ice cream while I waddled like a penguin?"
Killian shrugged, planting a kiss on the top of my head. "Do you realize I wouldn't have it any other way?"
I snorted. "You're such a sap."
He smirked. "And you love it."
I rolled my eyes dramatically, but my heart squeezed in a way I'd never felt before. I loved this man. Loved him in a way that made me want to pause time. Loved him enough that my chest ached with it, even as I carried the exhaustion of nine months pregnant and the new experience called 'motherhood.'
By the evening, the house smelled faintly of candles and something delicious simmering on the stove.
Killian had insisted on making dinner for us, claiming I was forbidden from doing anything strenuous. A part of me had been terrified because he wasn't particularly a good cook.
I'd laughed and reminded him that cooking for one night would not kill me, but I let him have this.
Meanwhile, at the back of my mind, I wondered how terrible the food was going to be.
I waddled into the kitchen, resting a hand on my belly, and found Killian standing over the counter. Flour dusted his apron, and he had that concentrated squint I knew meant ‘serious business.’
"You made...this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He looked up, one brow cocked, with a knife in his hand. "Yes. Chicken Cordon Bleu. With buttered rice. For you."
I laughed, swaying slightly as I leaned on the counter. "Killian, you do realize I'm nine months pregnant, right? Not exactly expecting a five-star restaurant experience."
"Which is why I've got it covered," he replied, smirking. He placed a chicken breast on the cutting board, carefully flattening it. "Nothing but the best for my family. No shortcuts."
I watched, fascinated, as he layered Swiss cheese and ham inside the chicken, folding it with precision. "Looks like you became a master chef overnight," I joked. "Should I be impressed or scared?"
He winked. "Both."
I shuffled closer to peek at the buttered rice simmering gently on the stove. The smell was heavenly, rich, and comforting. "That smells amazing. You actually did it right."
Killian chuckled, flipping the stuffed chicken into the pan with practiced ease. "Of course I did. I follow instructions better than most people follow their hearts."
"Smooth," I said, teasing, "and also slightly threatening."
He leaned down, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. "The only threats that matter are the ones I give in the bedroom."
I snorted, laughing so hard I almost toppled over, but he caught me with a hand on my lower back. "I think your belly is officially too heavy to knock over," he said, grinning. "But adorable attempts are welcome."
Once the chicken was in the oven, he scooped the buttered rice onto two plates, garnishing it with fresh parsley. He handed me a fork first. "Try this. Tell me it's worth all my alpha effort."
I took a bite, eyes widening. "Oh...wow. This is actually perfect. Killian, you've outdone yourself."
He grinned, leaning close so I could feel the heat of his body against mine. "All for you. And the twins. And Rue. My little family. You all deserve the world."
I rested my head against his shoulder, savoring the moment and the food. "I love you," I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head, his voice soft but full of that familiar fire. "I love you too, Angel. Always."
….
We sat at the table, and Killian slid the first bite toward me, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Careful," I said, holding my fork. "I might bite your finger instead."
He chuckled, leaning close. "I dare you."
I pretended to nibble the air near his hand, earning a laugh that made the whole room glow. And when I finally tasted the food, I moaned in appreciation.
The conversation flowed easily—teasing about Rue's stubbornness, joking about how neither of us could fold fitted sheets, and murmuring sweet nonsense about the twins.
At some point, he leaned across the table and whispered, "You're radiant, Angel."
I laughed, hiding my face in my hands. "Stop it, you're making me blush like a fool. Pregnant ladies are supposed to be hormonal, not flustered by their husbands."
"Good thing you're heavily pregnant, then," he murmured, "because I'm enjoying this excuse."
After dinner, I waddled onto the balcony, leaning against the railing as a soft breeze touched my skin. Killian joined me, hands on my waist, pulling me close.
The moonlight painted our shadows together on the balcony floor, and in that moment, it felt like we were the only people in the world.
He kissed me softly, lingering, and I melted against him. "I love you," I whispered, hand on his chest.
"I love you too," he murmured back in a low voice. "Forever. All of you. All of us."
We swayed there for what felt like hours, just enjoying the quiet intimacy until my husband’s phone buzzed.
He took out his phone from his pocket, his gaze meeting mine.
Then he read the message.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“It says Ethan has discovered Vincent’s hideout,” he replied, and I smiled.
Fucking finally.