Chapter 134 Epilog 1

Chapter 134 Epilog 1
The morning sun slipped through the curtains, painting warm gold across the bedroom floor. Audrey stirred slightly, burrowing deeper into the blankets, not quite ready to wake up.

Then she heard it.

"Dada! Dada! Dada!"

The tiny voice was insistent, bouncing off the walls of the nursery next door. Audrey smiled without opening her eyes. Their son had discovered the joy of yelling at seven in the morning.

Beside her, Elliot groaned softly. "He's up."

"He's been up for ten minutes," Audrey murmured. "I've been counting."

Elliot cracked one eye open. "And you didn't wake me?"

"You looked peaceful." She finally opened her eyes, watching her husband's face shift from sleepy to alert. "Besides, he's calling for you. Not me."

"Traitor," Elliot muttered, but he was already moving.

Audrey watched him go, smiling at the familiar sight—his messy hair, his wrinkled shirt from the night before, the way he moved quietly so he wouldn't wake her more than necessary. Some things had changed in the past two years. Some things never would.

She heard the soft pad of his feet down the hall, the creak of the nursery door, and then—

"Dada!"

Nolan's voice was a squeal of pure joy. Audrey could picture him perfectly: two years old, dark hair sticking up in every direction, chubby hands gripping the crib rail, bouncing on his tiny feet.

"Good morning, champ." Elliot's voice was warm in a way it never was with anyone else. "Did you sleep well?"

"Dada. Up. Up up up!"

"You want up?"

"UP!"

Elliot's laugh was soft. "Okay, okay."

Audrey heard the familiar sound of their son being lifted, Nolan's delighted giggles filling the hallway. Then the footsteps came back toward the bedroom.

Elliot appeared in the doorway, Nolan perched on his hip. Their son was already dressed in his favorite pajamas—the ones with the tiny lions on them—his hair sticking up like he'd wrestled a tornado in his sleep.

"Mama!" Nolan spotted her and reached out, his whole face lighting up. "Mama wake!"

"I'm awake," Audrey said, sitting up. "Come here, my love."

Nolan practically launched himself out of Elliot's arms, landing on the bed with a bounce. He scrambled across the mattress and threw himself at Audrey, tiny arms wrapping around her neck.

"I love you, Mama," he said, the words slightly garbled but perfect.

Audrey's heart squeezed. "I love you too, baby."

Elliot climbed onto the bed beside them, and Nolan immediately transferred his attention. "Dada. Dada's here too."

"I'm here," Elliot said, reaching out to ruffle Nolan's hair. "I'm always here."

Nolan nodded seriously, then pointed at Audrey. "Mama pretty."

Audrey's eyes stung. "Thank you, sweetheart."

He pointed at Elliot. "Dada... itchy." He touched his father's jaw, where the morning stubble was already showing. "Itchy, Dada."

Elliot laughed. "I'll shave later."

"Shave later," Nolan repeated, clearly filing the phrase away for future use.



An hour later, they were all in the kitchen. Nolan sat in his high chair, working determinedly on a bowl of oatmeal that seemed to be ending up more on his face than in his mouth. Elliot was making coffee, and Audrey was packing the bag for their trip to the Harrington house.

"We need to leave by ten," she said, checking her phone. "Your mom said lunch is at noon, but she wants us there early so Nolan can play before he gets tired."

"Define 'play,'" Elliot said dryly. "Because the last time she said that, she'd bought him a miniature car. A real one. That moves."

Audrey laughed. "It was a power wheels, Elliot. And he loves it."

"He's two. He doesn't need a car."

"He doesn't need a car," Audrey agreed, smiling. "But he has one anyway. Because your mother spoils him."

Elliot sighed, but there was no real frustration in it. "She spoils everyone. Did you see what she got Laura's baby last week?"

"A diamond bracelet. For a six-month-old." Audrey shook her head. "Clara will be the most stylish infant in the city."

"The most spoiled, maybe."

They exchanged a look—exasperated, but warm. This was their life now. Weekend trips to his parents' house, a son who demanded attention from the moment he woke up, a family that had grown in ways neither of them had expected.

It was messy. It was loud. It was perfect.



The Harrington house was already buzzing when they arrived.

Rebecca swept out the front door before they'd even made it up the walkway, her arms open wide. "There's my baby!"

Nolan, who was holding Elliot's hand, looked up at his father. "Dada, baby?"

"You're the baby," Elliot said.

Nolan considered this, then nodded seriously. "I'm baby."

Rebecca scooped him up before Elliot could respond, pressing kisses to his cheeks. "My sweet boy! Did you miss Grandma? Of course you did. Grandma missed you so much."

"Gramma," Nolan said, patting her face with sticky fingers. "Gramma pretty."

Rebecca's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, you are your father's son. He knows exactly what to say."

"I taught him that," Elliot said dryly.

"You taught him nothing. He came by it naturally." Rebecca swept inside, Nolan still in her arms, already chattering about lunch and the new toys she'd bought and how Laura and Javas were already here with Clara.

Audrey followed, and Elliot fell into step beside her, his hand finding hers.

"Ready?" he asked.

She looked at him—at the man who had once been cold and distant, who had learned to love, who had become a father. At the son in her mother-in-law's arms, laughing at something she'd said.

"Ready," she said.