Before long, the ceremony is over and I’m hugging Reese before heading off to find my family. I find Drew first in the crowd. He shoulders his big ass through the swarm of people, nearly knocking me off my feet with a bear hug.
“So fucking proud of you.” He pulls away to plant a kiss on my lips. “And you look hot, Doc.”
My dick twitches. “We can play doctor later. These people don’t want to watch me give you a rectal exam.”
“Poppa!”
I see Peyton over everyone’s head as she sits on her dadda’s shoulders. Her blue eyes twinkle and her grin is just like her mother’s. As soon as Brayden is close enough, she launches herself at me. I catch our little girl, snuggling her to me. Drew takes my diploma from me so I can take our kid.
“Hey, squirt. Miss me?” I ask, tickling her.
“Ganny and Peepaw said we can get ice cream!” she shrieks. “Let’s go!”
My dad shrugs as he walks up, a guilty look on his face. “How was I supposed to say no?”
“He didn’t even try,” Mom tattles.
They’re both wearing matching grins, proud of this day and me. It’s amazing how far we’ve come as a family. There was a time I thought they hated me and I was pretty sure I hated them. But with Drew’s, Mia’s, and Brayden’s guidance, I worked on my relationship with my parents. Mom’s been sober for a few years now and it’s amazing what a difference it’s made in my parents’ marriage.
“Congrats, babe,” Brayden says, leaning in for a kiss.
“That’s Dr. Hottie to you,” I tell him, smirking.
He laughs. Peyton pets my face. She’s a super affectionate kid like that.
“Where’s Momma?” I ask her.
“Mom and Dad went with her and Harold outside for some fresh air,” Brayden says.
Worry niggles at me. “She okay?”
“Nine months pregnant and wearing heels?” Drew asks. “What do you think?”
“We better bail,” I say. “Where are we going for dinner?”
“Your mother had reservations at La Bastille on the river, but…” Dad trails off. “They don’t have ice cream.”
Weak.
That motherfucker is so weak for his grandkid.
“Looks like we’re headed to Holiday Pizza. They have self-serve ice cream and skee-ball machines,” I say with a triumphant grin, holding my fist up for Peyton.
She giggles, bumping it, and then squeezes my neck. We all make our way through the crowd. I smile seeing Brayden and Drew holding hands. Because of Brayden’s popularity with the NHL, our relationship—that people tried exploiting early on in his career—is no longer a surprise to most people. In fact, we have quite a bit of support. Brayden’s been a huge supporter for the LGBTQ community, encouraging his teams to put focus on those non-profit organizations that sometimes get overlooked. Turns out, we’re also not the only polyamorous relationship out there, either. We’ve made friends, here in Chicago, who are like us.
I find Mia sitting on a bench between Harold and Molly. Tim paces, a worried expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I demand, passing Peyton to Drew so I can squat down in front of my woman. “Go to Daddy, angel.” At least now I can get away with calling him Daddy.
“Look at my ankles,” Mia whines, kicking off her heel.
I take her foot in my hand and massage the swollen flesh. “Cutest foot I’ve ever seen.”
“Suck-up,” she teases, rubbing her large belly that’s about to burst with our son. “You did it, Dr. Carter. Seeing you up on that stage was worth putting heels on for.”
I pluck her other shoe off, tossing them both in the grass behind her. “I prefer you barefoot and pregnant. Come on. Fried mushrooms are calling your name, Momma. I’ll carry you to the car.”
“My hero,” she croons, her brown eyes twinkling.
I scoop her up and carry her along the sidewalk toward the parking lot. She buries her face against my neck, sighing happily.
“Did you ever think, when I forced you to be my pretend boyfriend at that party and rescued you from that boy you were going to go home with, that we’d get here?”
“You being carted off by a hot doctor?” I ask, laughing.
“No,” she groans. “That you’d have two husbands and a wife.”
Not legally of course, but we still did the ceremony and in our hearts, we’re one.
“I tried to snag us a couple more husbands,” I tease. “Eric and Byron said no, though. Dream killers.”
We didn’t really invite them into our relationship, but we still like to joke about it. Every now and again, the Millers come to Chicago to spend a weekend catching up with us. They’ve been good friends to us.
“Ha. Ha,” she deadpans. “Hey, Ashy C?”
“Yeah, MiMi?”
“I’m glad I kissed you that night on the couch. When you only liked boys and I hoped like hell you’d like me too.”
I squeeze her, pressing a kiss to her head. “Me too, beautiful, me too.” I set her to her feet beside Brayden’s Denali. “Even though girls have cooties, I made an exception for you.”
“I don’t have cooties,” she sasses.
“How do you explain this?” I ask, poking at her giant stomach.
“Super sperm.”
With Peyton, we were trying. Maxton, though, was an oops baby. Mia was on birth control and we still knocked her ass up.
“Whose sperm is the super-est?” I waggle my brows at her.
“And to think they gave this guy his PhD,” Drew grumbles, pinching my ass as he passes.
Drew buckles Peyton into her seat. I wink at Mia and help her into the vehicle to sit beside Peyton. Drew sits beside her, his hand settling on her belly. Fucking adorable. I climb up front with Brayden. Once the car starts, he reaches across the console, his fingers threading with mine.
As we sit in traffic, all of our parents trailing in cars behind us, I can’t help but pause to enjoy the moment.
My family.
Mine.
Turns out, if you can dream it, you can have it.
And my dreams have always been big.
What can I say?
I’m spoiled. I get what I want.
Now I have everything.
The End
If you enjoyed this duet, make sure you check out the other books by K Webster and Nikki Ash!
Co-written books by Nikki Ash and K Webster
Other books by K Webster and Nikki Ash
Nikki Ash
K Webster
A super thank you to Nikki Ash. Thank you for being such a great, caring friend. I’ve enjoyed writing with you! Love you bunches!
Thank you to my husband. You’re my hero. Love you, boo.
A huge thank you to my Krazy for K Webster’s Books reader group. You all are insanely supportive, and I can’t thank you enough.
A gigantic thank you to those who always help me out behind the scenes. Elizabeth Clinton, Ella Stewart, Misty Walker, Holly Sparks, Jillian Ruize, Gina Behrends, Wendy Rinebold, Ker Dukey, J.D. Hollyfield, Nicole Blanchard, and Nikki Ash—you ladies are my rock!
Misty, thank you for always being there for me no matter what! Love you!