Miles Ever After (Miles High Series)

Claire

Monday morning.

Tristan and Fletcher’s first day at Anderson Media and while I’m getting to the office with everybody else at 9 a.m. They left home at their usual 6:30

a.m.

What are they doing here so early?

I get into the elevator on the ground floor and ride it up, my mind is in overdrive.

While I’m more grateful than words could ever express to Tristan for taking Anderson Media on, it isn’t going to make the transition any easier.

He runs a tight ship, a super yacht with all the bells and whistles and a high-powered engine room.

I’ve been floating along on a raft made of twigs and string.

Two very different business models with two very different outcomes. I know we have to adapt; I know things have to change.

He’s assured me that he is going to ensure a smooth transition and that there will be no casualties, which is one thing, I guess.

The staff don’t know he’s starting today, he thought it was best that he be the person to break it to them. But reading between the lines I think he doesn’t want me to have to deal with anything stressful now that I’m pregnant.

His only goal now is to protect me and the boys, this company is for them and god help anyone who stands in his way.

The elevator doors open and I look around.

“Good morning, Ms. Anderson,” Tristan’s sexy voice purrs.

I look over to see him standing to the side looking like god’s gift to women. Perfectly fitted navy suit, crisp white shirt, and gray tie. His dark hair is messed up to just-fucked perfection. He has his hands in his pockets and is leaning his behind on a desk.

“Good morning, Tristan.”

He smirks and looks at his watch. “Eight fifty-two,” he says to Fletcher who is standing beside him.

Fletcher scribbles something onto the pad he is holding.

Huh.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Tristan smiles. “Go to your office, darling, and please remember that I love you.”

I frown, and the elevator doors open again, a girl steps out and Tristan stands and shakes her hand. “Good morning, Tristan Miles.”

The girl looks up in awe at the god. “Hello, Mr. Miles.”

“What is your name?” he asks.

“Melanie Right.”

“Good morning, Melanie, this is Fletcher Anderson,” he introduces him.

Fletcher shakes her hand. “How do you do?”

Melanie smiles and then scurries to her desk; Tristan looks over to Fletcher and glances at his watch. “Melanie Right, eight fifty-six.”

My eyes widen, he’s making a note of what time everyone gets here.

What the fuck?

“I need coffee.” I march to my office and close the door behind me.

“Fuck. ”

It’s fine, it’s fine….

My door busts open and Marley charges in. “Oh my fuck, what is going on out there?”

“What?” I screw up my face. “Do I even want to know?”

“Evan just got sprayed for being seven minutes late.”

“Oh crap.”

“And Marlene just got sent home because she was dressed inappropriately for the office.”

My eyes widen. “What was she wearing?”

“A black bra underneath a see-through blouse.”

I put my hands over my face.

“To be fair, she does dress like a total ho every day,” Marley replies. “She makes me want to vomit in my own mouth most of the time.”

The door opens, and Fletcher comes into view. “Marley, Tristan is looking for you.”

“Oh crap.” Marley screws up her face. “Help.” She marches out the door and into the firing line. I peer out the corner of the blinds and spy on the office goings-on.

Over the next five hours I watch on as Tristan and Fletcher make their way

around to everyone’s desk, they chat and talk and have a way that can only be described as unapologetic.

They know what they want and they know how to get it.

Their people skills are so mastered and so perfected that they have everyone eating out of the palm of their hand.

I watch Fletcher, dressed in a three-thousand-dollar suit, exuding confidence as he chats and takes notes on everyone. He’s laughing and asking questions and oozing a certain X factor that can only be described as Miles-like.

It’s become abundantly clear to me that every day he spends working with Tristan, he becomes a little less Anderson and a little more Miles.

He’s turning into the man he was always meant to be.

A confident, knowledgeable, and hardworking man, and I have never been prouder.

We have a meeting scheduled at 3 p.m. this afternoon for all staff, and I have no idea what to expect.

But I’m trying to trust the process.

Three p.m., and I sit in the front row of the auditorium with Marley.

Tristan has hired a hall for the staff meeting this afternoon, he wanted everyone in the same room.

This is new territory; we have never done anything like this before.

Tristan and Fletcher are sitting on the stage where a microphone and podium are set up as they wait for all of the staff to pile in.

Eventually Tristan stands and goes to the podium. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he says in his sexy deep voice. “Thank you for coming.” He gives a smile to the audience as everyone hangs on his every word.

I’m taken back to that conference he spoke at in Épernay and how much I despised him from my seat in the audience. Never in a million years did I imagine this life I live now would ever come to fruition.

“It’s been great to meet all of you today.” He turns back and gestures to Fletcher. “Fletcher and I wanted to have this meeting to explain the new adventure that Anderson Media is about to undertake.”

The crowd falls silent.

“Firstly, you may all be asking what the fuck is Tristan Miles doing here?” He gives a playful wink and everyone chuckles. “With Claire Anderson’s permission I’m going to be as straight with you as I possibly can.”

He clicks a remote and a photograph of Wade and me comes up onto the large screen. We are young, early twenties, and sitting at a desk with a typewriter in front of us. I frown as I stare at it, where did he get this photo?

“Anderson Media is the brainchild of Wade Anderson.” He gestures to Fletch. “Fletcher’s father, who along with his wife, our beloved Claire Anderson, started this company from a one-room office. They worked hard with blood, sweat and tears to create the wonderful company that is here and still standing today.” He paces back and forth across the stage as he talks, he clicks the remote and photos from the early Anderson Media days come up on the screen.

“As you all know, tragedy struck six years ago when Wade Anderson was killed in a bike accident.” He walks around as he talks. “Since that time, Anderson Media has suffered a chain of serious losses. Though none as great as the personal loss of Wade.”

My eyes well with tears as I watch Fletcher sitting on the stage, his back is straight as he crosses his legs, he’s detached from the situation. It’s obvious to me that Tristan has read him this speech before, it’s not the first time he’s heard it.

“So why am I here?” He continues to pace. “The company is floundering.”

The room is silent, hanging off his every word.

“I have an invested interest in protecting it for Wade’s sons.” He gestures to Fletcher on the stage. “Who, one day, will inherit this company.”

He clicks the remote and a photograph of my three boys comes up onto the screen.

“Anderson Media is returning to the forefront of where it should be. I have resigned from Miles Media and will be taking over as the new CEO.”

The room gasps.

“Why, you ask?

“I am engaged to Claire Anderson, and her boys…will soon be my stepsons.”

Louder gasps.

Marley elbows me and I smirk, they don’t know how the hell I managed to snag this guy…neither do I, actually. It’s a shock to me too, people.

“Anyone who knows me, knows one thing. Family is everything.” He continues to pace. “Anderson Media belongs to my sons, therefore I am going to do everything in my power to protect and grow it.” He looks out over the crowd. “It’s not going to be easy, many of you will not make it. You will not be able to cope with the transition and I understand that. Change is uncomfortable.” He continues to pace, “Tomorrow you are all going to apply for a new role within the company. Nobody is staying in their current position. You are all too comfortable and set in your ways.”

The room is silent, hanging on his every word.

“You will have new KPIs, budgets and targets, and yes there will be pressure to perform.”

Hushed whispers of horror sound throughout the audience.

“But along with that, there will be a pay increase, an incentive bonus structure and many opportunities to shine.”

The audience is getting noisy now.

He holds up his hands to quieten everyone down, and once they finally quieten, he continues.

“I ask one thing of you all. Do not waste my time. Go home tonight and make a decision. Do you want to work harder than you ever have before, or do you want to resign immediately? We don’t have time to train those who don’t want to be here, and we completely understand if you don’t.” He continues to pace. “Some of you may already know your decision and I will be accepting email resignations. You don’t even have to come back tomorrow; all severance pay will be honored in full.”

“If you stay, know one thing.” He stops and looks out into the audience,

“I do not accept laziness, I have high expectations and demand the best.

Because that’s what I give.”

My heart swells with pride. I love this man.

“I will now call on our new GM, Fletcher Anderson, to address you.”

It’s me who gasps this time, he’s named Fletcher as the General Manager.

What the fuck?

“Thank you, Tristan.” Fletcher takes the microphone from him. “Hello.”

He smiles out to the audience. “Thank you all for coming.”

I sit back in my chair as I listen to Fletcher talk with such an easy confidence with tears in my eyes, knowing that Wade is looking down on this day with so much pride for his son.

I’m blown away.

It’s 5 p.m. and I make my way into the CEO’s office.

“Knock, knock.”

“Come in,” Tristan calls without looking up.

“Hi.”

He glances up and then smiles warmly. “Hey.”

I slide an envelope over the desk to him. “I came to bring you this.”

He raises his eyebrow.

“It’s my resignation.”

“Why?” He frowns.

“Because you and Fletch have everything handled here.” I put my hand over my stomach. “Because I want to concentrate on our baby and being a mom.”

His eyes search mine.

“It’s better this way, Tris. You handle work.” I put his hand over my stomach. “And let me handle this.”

He pulls me down onto his lap and I kiss him softly. “I love you.”

“I don’t want to push you out.” He sighs.

“You haven’t, sweetheart. You’ve set me free.”

“Claire,” Marley calls in her singsong voice, “someone’s at the door for you.”

I come around the corner to the hugest bunch of red roses I’ve ever seen, my mouth falls open in surprise. “My god.”

“Sign here.” The delivery man smiles as he leans up onto his toes.

“Somebody sure loves you.”

I sign his delivery pad as I beam with happiness.

“She’s getting married today,” Marley announces proudly. “To a god.”

“Well.” The delivery man laughs. “Lucky you.”

“I am.” I take the flowers from him. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Good luck today.” He smiles.

“Thanks.” Suddenly I’m all emotional and I kiss him on the cheek. “And thanks for my flowers.”

“You’re welcome, but I have to tell you. They aren’t from me.”

I laugh, embarrassed, why did I just kiss him on the cheek?

“Bye.” Marley closes the door and I breeze through my house. “I don’t think I’ve got a vase big enough for these.” I lay them onto the kitchen counter and unpin the card.

I can’t wait to marry you today

Forever mine.

Tristan.

XO

I swoon as I hold the card to my chest.

This man.

“Give me that.” Marley snatches the card from me and reads it out loud.

“I can’t wait to marry you today. Forever mine. Tristan.” She rolls her eyes in a dramatic fashion. “Oh my god, could he be any more fucking perfect?” She sighs dreamily.

I smile as I continue to look for a vase.

“Seriously?” Marley continues. “Forever his. Fuck my life.” She looks up at the sky and shakes her fist. “Where is my Tristan, God? How come Claire gets one and I don’t?”

I inhale their deep perfume. I know exactly how I have a Tristan and nobody else does. Wade sent him, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that the stars had already been aligned in heaven.

It’s been a weird week, weird month, actually.

We’ve hit the ground running, a lot has happened, I fell pregnant, got engaged. Tristan was hell-bent on being married before the baby is born and I didn’t want to be a huge bride.

So we had precisely four weeks to pull together a wedding, plus I’ve had morning sickness from hell. No idea where it’s come from, I wasn’t sick at all with the boys.

This older pregnancy thing is not for the fainthearted, let me tell you.

Thankfully, Tristan has taken care of almost every detail. Who knew wedding planning would be his thing?

Marley takes the flowers from me. “I’ll find a vase for these, you need to start getting ready.”

“Is this really happening, Mol?”

“Uh-uh,” She nods. “You have bagged the biggest, sweetest hunk in the world.”

“I have, haven’t I?” I hunch my shoulders up in excitement. “I wonder what’s going on with the boys?”

We are marrying in the church that Tristan’s parents married in in New York. The boys are at his penthouse getting ready together. I wanted them to stay here but he wanted to stick with the no seeing the bride the night before tradition.

“Knowing Tristan, he will be all drill sergeant over there making sure everything is running to schedule, the boys will all be in their suits and being warned with death if they get dirty.” Marley smirks as she fills the vase.

“He would, wouldn’t he. That’s exactly how it would be going.” I smile.

“I still can’t believe he asked the three boys to be his groomsmen.”

“Why not?”

“He has three brothers who are his best friends, and yet he asked the boys to stand beside him.”

“Because he’s Tristan.” Marley widens her eyes. “Need I say more.”

“This is true.” I turn and float up the hallway to my bedroom, I rub my hand over my small baby bump.

Forever his.

Tristan

Jameson holds up his glass of champagne. “A toast.”

I smile and raise my glass to his, Christopher and Elliot do the same.

Dressed in black dinner suits, we are primped and primed for my wedding day.

“To happiness.”

The silhouettes of my beloved brothers blur as emotion overwhelms me.

“Fuck me dead, if you cry like a baby at this wedding…” Jameson mutters dryly.

“As if he won’t,” Elliot replies. “Please, save me the drama.”

We all laugh and I shake my head in disbelief. “Who the hell am I these days?”

“Maybe you’re pregnant too?” Christopher winks.

“Fuck off.”

We’re out on the terrace of my penthouse, as hungover as all fuck.

What was supposed to be a quiet night with my boys ended up in a rowdy card game with my brothers as well. They ended up all staying here and I don’t know what happened, one minute we were playing cards and then Jameson brought out a case of Dalmore Scotch, next minute, all seven of us were dancing on the furniture.

Even Patrick.

I look in at the boys as they play PlayStation. “You reckon it’s late enough for them to get dressed yet?”

“They can’t get dirty now, surely?” Jameson shrugs.

“You’d be surprised.” I glance at my watch. “Yeah it’s getting close, we leave in just over an hour.” I stick my head in through the glass doors. “Start getting ready, boys.”

“Yes, finally.” Patrick drops the remote like a hot potato and runs upstairs at full speed.

“I think he’s excited.” Elliot smiles.

“I fucking love that kid,” Christopher says as he watches him disappear out of view. “I’m excited too.”

I drain my glass of champagne. “I’m going to go and help them.” I pat my suit pockets. “Jay, you’ve got the rings, right?”

He pats his jacket inside pocket to check. “Yep.”

“Elliot?” I ask.

Elliot pulls out folded pieces of paper from his pocket. “Got the speeches.”

“Christopher?” I ask him.

“I know, I know. No photos.” He ticks his finger. “Check, check, double fucking check, if I see a phone I’m going ham.”

I don’t want any details of the wedding to leak to the press, it’s just not happening.

“Okay.” My brothers may not be acting as my official groomsmen in the church, but they are unofficially still my groomsmen.

I couldn’t do this without them.

“Okay, I’m getting the boys ready.” I slap Jameson on the back as I walk past him into the house. “Back soon.”

I take the stairs and walk down the hall; Patrick is in one bathroom showering and Fletcher is in another I find Harry lying on his bed in his room. “How come you aren’t in the shower?” I ask him.

“I was thinking.” He scrunches his pillow up and rolls it under his head as he lies on his back as if he has all the time in the world.

Fuck me, not now.

“About what?” I take his suit bag from his wardrobe and hang it from the door.

“I think I need to shave today…you know, for the wedding.”

My eyes flick over to him, he doesn’t have one fucking whisker. “Do you now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” I throw my hands out and gesture to the bathroom. “So go shave.”

“Yeah but…” he continues, “…it’s going to take time.”

“So don’t get any ideas about shaving your two pubes, we are in a hurry today.”

“Why would I shave my pubes?” He frowns.

“I don’t know. Why do you do any of the weird shit you do?” I throw a towel at him. “Get up.”

He exhales heavily and drags himself into the bathroom and closes the door.

Seriously….

I hear Patrick’s shower turn off and I walk into his bedroom, his suit is already laid out on his bed and I smile as I look over it. His bathroom door opens and he appears with a towel around his waist. I go to his wardrobe and grab a bottle of deodorant and pass it over to him. “Wear deodorant today.”

He looks at it in his hand and then back up at me. “Why, I’m just a kid. I don’t sweat.”

“I’m not taking any chances. You will smell nice today if it kills you.”

“Okay then.” He rolls his eyes in an overdramatic way. “Fine.”

“Call me when you’re dressed and I’ll do your tie.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t forget your vest,” I remind him as I walk out of the room, I head down to Fletcher. His bedroom is at the end of the hall, I find him already dressed in his suit and doing his tie in the mirror, I feel myself relax a little bit. “That’s my boy.” I slap him on the back as he looks in the mirror at himself. “Do I look okay?” he asks.

“You look great, man.” I take over doing his tie for him.

He gives me a proud smile. “I do, don’t I?”

“Argh,” We hear a cry come from Harry’s room. “Tristan.”

“Fuck’s sake, what now?” I whisper as I march down the hall.

Harry has a towel around his waist, the hot water is running and the bathroom is full of steam. He is holding a flannel to his face and there is blood everywhere.

“What the fuck is happening in here?” I gasp.

“I nicked myself shaving.”

I lift the flannel back to see a huge laceration to his lip and my eyes bulge. “You shaved your lip? In what universe do you shave your fucking lip? You don’t shave a lip, nobody shaves a lip. Everybody knows you don’t shave a fucking lip.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Stop saying lip.”

My god.

“We do not have time for this shit today, Harrison.” I tear a tiny bit of toilet paper and put it on the cut.

“Argh,” He winces.

“Do not talk.” I press on the toilet paper hard. “You do not have whiskers on your face, let alone your fucking lip. Hold that on there and it will stop bleeding in a moment, it’s just a nick.”

Is it though?

I can feel my temperature rising by the second.

Why?

“Do not put your white shirt on until it stops bleeding, do you understand me?” I warn him.

“Yes.”

“So what are you going to do now?” I ask him to make sure.

“Get in the shower and wash my hair.”

“You haven’t showered yet?”

“No.”

I inhale deeply, this kid kills me.

“Okay, shower, I’m going downstairs. Call me when you are ready to dress so I can check the cut.”

I march back downstairs to find my three brothers relaxing happily on the terrace. “Give me a drink,” I whisper as I pick up my glass of champagne.

“What’s going on up there?” Jameson asks.

“Harrison shaved and nearly cut his lip off, that’s what’s going on.

Looks like a fucking chainsaw massacre up there.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jameson mutters.

Elliot’s face falls. “Is he alright?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to check on him.” Elliot bounds inside and disappears up the stairs.

I exhale heavily as I try to calm myself down. “It’s fine.”

“There’s heaps of blood?” Jameson frowns.

“Yep.”

“I cut my balls shaving them once, thought I was going to need a transfusion,” Christopher replies casually into his drink.

“You shave your balls?” Jameson frowns over at him.

“Yeah. Don’t you?” Christopher fires back.

“Stop talking about balls,” I snap, cutting them off. “I just want today to go smoothly.”

“It will, relax,” Christopher replies.

“Ahh…Tristan,” Elliot’s voice calls from inside. “We have a new problem.”

I glance inside.

“An even bigger one,” he calls again. “You might need to come in here.”

“Fuck me, what now?” I glance inside to see Harry standing awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, the blood drains from my face.

His suit is four sizes too small. The sleeves are midway up his forearms and the trouser pants are halfway up his shins. He can hardly move in it at all.

“What the fuck is that shit?” I cry.

Jameson and Christopher start to laugh from behind me.

“I asked you to try your suit on last Wednesday when it arrived and you told me it fits…” I cry in an outrage. “You lied about trying it on?”

“I didn’t get around to it yet,” he fires back.

“Didn’t get around to it, I tell you what I’m about to get around to, Harrison…ending you,” I yell as I glance at my watch. “This is a disaster.”

Christopher and Jameson are laughing hard now.

“Shut the fuck up, you two,” I yell.

“It’s fine.” Elliot calmly takes out his phone, “I’m calling the seamstress now, they can deliver another suit. We have time. They have heaps of the same suits there. It’s going to be fine.” He smiles to Harry.

“It’s all fine.”

This is as far from fine as physically possible.

I begin to pace as Jameson and Christopher continue to snicker between themselves. I turn toward them, infuriated. “Unless you two want to be murdered, I would strongly advise you to shut your mouths.”

“We will if we get around to it,” Christopher replies like the smart-ass he is, Jameson bursts out laughing again.

I hold my temples; I do not need this shit from these assholes today.

“Okay, well when will that be?” Elliot’s eyes flick to me as he listens.

“Well that’s not good enough, the wedding is in an hour.” He fakes a smile as he listens again and I know that look, the psychotic part of his brain is just about to be activated. “I understand that you said to try it on when we got it. However, that didn’t happen.” His eyes flick up to Harry and he puts his finger up and pretends to slice his throat.

Harry smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Don’t smile, fucker.

“What size is the suit?” Elliot asks.

Jameson takes the jacket off Harry and looks at the label. “It’s a thirty-two.”

“Thirty-two,” Elliot replies to the person on the phone. “That’s the right size?” He frowns. “Impossible. He hasn’t grown that much in three weeks; he isn’t the fucking Hulk, Janet.”

Christopher and Jameson burst out laughing and I tip my head back and drain my glass. “This is unbelievable.”

“We are on our way down now,” Elliot snaps. “You have every suit size ready and waiting.” He hangs up. “Get in the car.”

“What?” My eyes widen.

“We’ve got to go to the suit place.”

“What? Now?” I gasp. “We don’t have time.”

“We don’t have time to call for the car, but if we drive ourselves we’ll make it. We’ll go straight to the church from the suit shop. I’ll drive. It’s fine, I’ve totally got this,” Elliot replies.

“Elliot is right, it is fine. Stop wasting time and let’s go,” Christopher replies.

“I wanted a relaxing wedding day,” I scream. “Can anything ever run smoothly around here?”

Jameson and Christopher begin to round everyone up in a whirlwind and five minutes later we are all in the elevator. I glance over to Fletcher; he looks like he just crawled out of a dumpster. “Did you even do your hair?”

“I didn’t have time,” he gasps.

“You look like a hobo,” I whisper angrily.

“I forgot to put on deodorant,” Patrick chimes in.

I close my eyes to stop myself from speaking…or yelling…or swearing.

Fainting for that matter.

All the swear words are on the tip of my tongue…and then some new ones that haven’t even been discovered yet.

Jameson’s shoulders bounce as he tries to hold in his giggles.

The elevator doors open and everyone runs for the car. “Put the back seats up,” I yell.”

“Okay.”

“Patrick and Fletch, climb into the back.”

I pop the trunk and they climb into the back seat and fold the extra

seats up, two minutes later we are flying out of the parking lot. Elliot is driving, Jameson is the navigator, Christopher, Harry and I are in the back seat and Tricky and Fletch are squeezed into the back row.

“Left,” Jameson says, Elliot turns to the left. “I mean right.” Elliot swerves the car to the right.

“Ahhh,” We all hang on for dear life as Elliot speeds down the street.

“Slow down,” Christopher yells. “I want to make it there alive; you know.”

“If we don’t make it there on time, I’ll be driving us over a cliff,” I announce as I run my hands through my hair. “I hope you are all prepared for that.”

“There are no cliffs in New York,” Harry replies sarcastically.

“Bridge,” I sneer through gritted teeth. “A big, huge, giant fucking bridge.” I crack my knuckles.

So help me god, this kid might actually die today.

“It says here turn left,” Jameson says as he reads the maps on his phone. “But I know a shortcut.”

“Oh my god,” the car collectively screams. “No, don’t do it.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Christopher snaps. “Follow the maps.”

“Trust me on this.”

“You do not know a fucking shortcut. You have a driver everywhere you go,” I call.

“My driver knows shortcuts,” he barks.

“Your driver isn’t here,” we all cry in unison again.

Christopher leans over and snatches the phone from Jameson. “Turn left,” he yells.

Elliot screeches the tires as he makes a sharp left. “Ahhh.” We all hang on for dear life.

“Do you have your seat belts on in the back?” I call.

“Yes,” replies Fletcher. “Patrick doesn’t.”

“What?” I turn my head to see Patrick fussing around with his seat belt. “What are you doing back there?”

“It won’t.” He struggles some more. “It won’t click in.”

“Help him,” I yell to Fletcher. “Why are you just sitting there?”

“Left,” Christopher yells, the car screams around the corner at speed and we all hang on again. “Right up here.”

We slow down behind a queue of traffic and I drag my hand down

my face. “This is not what I had in mind, Harrison.”

He smiles goofily up at me and puts his hand on my thigh. “But it’s fun, right?”

“No,” the whole car cries.

Unable to help it, I smirk. “Maybe a little bit.”

We maneuver through the city and I glance at my watch. “The wedding starts in forty minutes. We’ll never make it!”

“It’s just up here around the corner,” Christopher cries.

“Where will I park?” Elliot calls as he grips the steering wheel. “Oh no, it’s a one-way street.”

“This is the most fucking stressful day of my life,” Jameson yells, he opens the glove box in search of something. “Bingo.” He pulls out a can of deodorant and undoes his shirt and sprays it on. “I’m sweating like a pig.”

“Pass it back here,” I yell.

“Don’t use it all, I don’t have any on in the first place,” Patrick calls from the back seat.

“Because you’re a kid,” Jameson growls.

The deodorant gets passed around the car as we all put it on in a mad fluster.

“I don’t know where to park,” Elliot yells. “There’s nowhere to park.”

“Just pull over, we will get out. Circle the block a few times.” I undo my seat belt. “Boys, you are all coming with me.”

“What?” Fletcher replies. “Shouldn’t we stay in the car?”

“We stay together,” I yell. “Out of the fucking car right now.”

The car pulls up and I jump out, Harrison next, and the two boys in the back seat dive over the seat in a chaotic mess of arms and legs. The car behind us beeps its horn. “Shut up,” Jameson bellows out the window as he slaps his hand on the side of the car. “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Where is it?” I yell to Christopher through the window.

“Around the corner to the left.”

I grab Patrick’s hand. “Run.” We take off up the street like maniacs.

“My shoes are hurting me,” Harrison yells.

“Not as badly as I want to,” I yell back, I glance at my watch. “Half an hour.” I speed up. “Faster.”

We finally arrive at the suit shop, push the door open panting messes, and the lady smiles calmly. “Hello.”

“Hi.” I pant and point to Harry. “Suit.”

She looks him up and down. “Hmm, it doesn’t fit whatsoever, does it?”

“No.” I fume, I glance at my watch. “We have to be at the church in twenty-six minutes. Hurry up. ”

Her face pales. “Oh dear. This way, I have them all laid out for you.”

Harry and she disappear into a changing room and the boys and I all fix our hair in the reflection in the window. I try to smooth Patrick’s hair and fix his tie, I neaten Fletcher and then myself, I glance at my watch.

“Hurry up,” I yell. “We have twenty-one minutes to get to the church.”

“Ta-da.” Harry appears and holds his hands out like he’s a magician in a perfectly fitted suit.

“I’ll ta-da you alright,” I fume. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll just…” the woman from the shop says as she goes to her computer.

“Not now,” I yell as we run out of the shop, I look up and down the street. “Where are they?”

“I can’t see them.” Fletcher cranes his neck.

I go to dial Jameson’s number and a cab pulls up in front of us. “Get in.”

“What?”

“Get in the cab, we will meet them at the church.” We all dive in the cab.

“Where to?” the bored cab driver asks.

“St Patrick’s Cathedral. We have eighteen minutes to get there and I’m the fucking groom. Drive it like you stole it.”

The cab driver’s eyes widen and he pulls out at speed into the traffic.

I text Jameson,

MEET US AT THE CHURCH,

WE ARE IN A CAB.

I glance at my watch, fourteen minutes.

Fuck.

Claire

Dad holds my hand as we drive in the car, we are on our way to the church.

I’m not sure if it’s being pregnant or what but I’m feeling overemotional.

Like the whole entirety of my being is about to be played out.

It’s my wedding day.

My second wedding day.

A day that I never imagined doing twice.

I stare out the car window with my mind in a whirlwind, flicking between time zones. Reminiscing from my last wedding…. my last groom, to this life and this man.

Loving my new husband-to-be so deeply that I don’t have the words to describe it.

Two men, two very different loves.

One, my childhood sweetheart, the only man I knew, and we had all our firsts together. The father of my children, our love was easy and uncomplicated. Everything to achieve and nothing to prove.

And then there’s Tristan, my beautiful, gorgeous Tristan.

Our love is deep, so deep that I don’t know how I could have ever lived a life without his love. And looking back, I don’t think I was meant to.

We were always going to meet, always going to be together.

Tristan’s love brought me back to life, brought my children back to life.

He will never ever know the depths of my love and appreciation for him.

He had the world at his feet and yet, he fell in love with me. Never once did he falter, never once did he miss a step. Rock sturdy, the love of our lives.

I put my hand over my stomach and smile wistfully out the window. Our baby.

A celebration of the two of us.

“Are you okay, love?” Dad asks.

Am I okay?

“I’m than okay, Dad.” I smile broadly. “I’m great.” The car slowly pulls to a stop out the front of the church and I glance down at myself. “Do I look okay?”

“You look so beautiful. He’s a very lucky man.”

I’m wearing a cream lace fitted wedding gown, complete with full veil. I would have been happy to get married in a registry office but Tristan wanted the whole shebang.

So here I am, pregnant and dressed in a traditional wedding dress.

A cab pulls up across the road and the four doors all swing open at the same time. “What’s….”

Fletcher jumps out and then Harrison.

“What in the world?” I frown.

Tristan appears and drags Patrick out by the hand; he nearly pulls his arm out the socket.

Like maniacs they run across the road dressed in their suits and disappear into the church.

Dad and I look at each other and then back at them. “What in the world?”

“I have no idea.” Dad shrugs.

Suddenly Tristan’s car pulls up and Jameson, Elliot and Christopher dive out, also dressed in black tie, and sprint into the church.

I burst out laughing, only us. I don’t know what’s happened but I’m pretty sure Tristan would be stressed out to the max.

The driver goes to open my door.

I wind down the window. “I just want to wait a few moments if that’s okay?”

“Of course.” He stands back.

We sit in the car for a bit and Dad twists his lips. “What do you reckon made them so late?”

We both burst out laughing. “God only knows.”

Marley and the bridesmaids catch sight of us and come bounding over to the car. “Come on. Come on.”

“Okay.” I beam. “Let’s do this.”

The traditional bridal waltz echoes through the church and I watch on as Marley, then Melanie and Samantha, my cousins, walk down the aisle in front of me.

The church is decorated with beautiful white flowers in the most over-the-top grandeur. Tristan has thought of every little detail and planned this wedding to perfection.

With a lump in my throat Dad and I make our way down the aisle, and then I see him.

Them.

My four boys all lined up in a row.

My entire heart and everything in between.

Black dinner suits, disheveled hair, their smiles so big that they could light up space.

Patrick is bouncing on the end in excitement.

But it’s Tristan that I’m fixed on.

His eyes sparkle with that certain something and the look he gives me is pure mischief, he’s biting his lip and goes up onto his toes in excitement.

I get the giggles as I get closer, and so does he. Everyone in the church does too.

This is unbelievable.

Never in a million years when we had that first meeting could we have ever imagined this.

And yet here we are.

We get to the altar and Dad kisses me on both cheeks and shakes Tristan’s hand.

“Anderson.” Tristan smiles mischievously.

It makes me giggle, I thought he would be all emotional today, but it actually makes more sense that he would be his playful sexy self.

He takes me into his arms and with his hands on my behind he kisses me, a little bit too much actually.

“Ease up,” Christopher calls and the church all laugh again.

He smiles against my lips and whispers, “Let’s fucking do this.”

Three months later.

The removalist truck pulls into the street as we follow in the car, Tristan, Patrick and Harry are in Tristan’s car in front of us. Fletcher and I are loaded to the brim, Woofy and Muff in the back seat, and today’s the day that we move into our new home. The truck pulls into the driveway and we all pull our cars over.

Tristan bounds out of the car and holds his hands up like he’s some crazy game-show host. “And here she is,” he yells in an over-the-top animated voice. “Home sweet home.”

“Oh my god, he’s so embarrassing,” Fletcher mutters under his breath as he looks around at the neighbors’ houses.

I giggle as I climb out of the car. “You got that right.”

I stare up at the house in awe, it’s so beautiful. Huge and grand, with a lived-in family feel. Seven bedrooms, a study. A pool, you name it, this house has it.

Tristan and I came to an agreement, we kept our old house and one day it will be the boys’. For the next few years we are going to rent it out. It’s the perfect scenario, the house stays with us, but we get to move into a bigger place. I’m not going to lie, having more room is going to be amazing, especially with the baby coming.

The removalists begin to open the back of the truck as they get sorted and Fletcher grabs Woofy’s lead and Harry grabs Muff’s cat carrier cage. Patrick carries the beloved rocket model, they didn’t trust that with the removal van.

Tristan goes through the keys as he walks up onto the veranda. “Mrs.

Miles.” He holds his arm out for me. “Come here, please.”

Harry and Patrick roll their eyes at each other and I smile and walk up onto the veranda beside him.

“It is customary for the man of the house to carry the woman of the house over the threshold for the first time.”

“Better let me do it then,” Harry announces.

The boys snicker.

Tristan gives him the side eye. “Move aside,” he says, he goes to pick me up and struggles with a grunt. “Argh.” He steps backward and struggles some more.

“What’s the problem, man of the house?” I roll my lips to hide my smile,

a six-month-pregnant woman is no lightweight.

“Don’t worry, Anderson.” He grunts as he swings me up. “I’ve got this.

My sheer brute strength makes you light as a feather.”

“Liar.” I giggle as I hang on for dear life, I really thought after we got married, he would never call me Anderson ever again. Glad to report that I was wrong, some things never change.

His step falters once more as he carries me like a bride.

“You’re weak as water.” Harrison rolls his eyes. “Wimp.”

“Apparently,” Tristan winces with a strained voice. “Move out of the way.”

“Don’t you dare drop her,” Fletcher warns. “There’s a baby inside.”

“Out of the way then,” Tristan fires back with a sense of urgency.

We walk through the front door and he slides me down his body, with his arms around me he kisses me softly. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” His lips linger over mine as he puts his hand protectively over my pregnant stomach.

“I love you.”

I smile up at my beautiful husband. “I love you more.”

“Oh god, here they go again,” Harrison moans.

“Tris….” I look around at the grand foyer. “I can’t believe this house is really ours.”

“Only the best for my family.” Tristan smiles proudly with his hands on his hips. “Anyone leave any shoes at the front door and it’s go time,” he adds.

The removalists carry the first piece of furniture up the front lawn.

“Where do you want this?”

“Upstairs.” He takes the stairs two at a time like an excited little kid.

“This way.”

“The baby is now the size of a large cantaloupe,” Tristan calls, he’s deep in concentration, lying on the couch with his feet up over the back of it.

Fletcher rolls his eyes at me as I toss the salad.

“Really?” I call.

“Yeah, and did you know that it can now distinguish voices and sounds?”

“Really?” I call again as I smile, I did know that but I’ll let him tell me.

“So we better start talking more to her, boys,” he calls again.

“Why do you keep calling it a her?” I ask.

“I have a feeling,” he calls back. “So everyone start talking to Mom’s stomach more.”

Harry walks through the kitchen, he bends down to my stomach in an overexaggerated way. “Your father is annoying,” he tells it.

I giggle and cup Harry’s face. “Little bit.”

“I heard that,” Tristan calls again.

Tristan Miles has a new hobby, reading pregnancy books out loud to us all, telling us random facts that we really don’t need to know.

He is studying all things baby.

“We’re going, Mom,” Fletcher says.

“What time will you be back?”

“A few hours.”

“Okay.” I smile, Harrison has basketball practice and Fletcher wants to take him, it seems Fletch is a bit sweet on the assistant coach. Trinity College has been a godsend for Harry. He’s in the debating and basketball team, he has a heap of new friends and apparently a hot assistant basketball coach.

“Bye Tris,” they call as they head out the door.

“Drive carefully,” he calls back.

We hear the car start and pull away and I smile, I give it five minutes.

I feel two hands slink around my waist from behind and I giggle. “Five seconds?”

“What is?” He kisses me softly, the need behind his lips is as clear as day.

“I said to myself that I give it five minutes until you are out here with me and it was five seconds instead.”

He kisses me deeper, his tongue sliding against mine, my man is hungry…and not for the salad I’m making.

“What do you want, Daddy?” I smile against his lips.

He puts his two hands on the sides of my stomach. “Cover your ears,” he tells the baby before kissing me again. “Daddy needs to fuck,” he breathes.

I giggle, good lord, we cannot get enough of each other. Every chance we get we are at it like rabbits.

He is obsessed with my body as it changes.

He moves his hand up my thigh and slips his fingers into my panties, he slides his fingers through my wet flesh and inhales sharply. “You need to be punished.” He pushes a finger deep inside me and I clench around him. “I do.” He pumps me with it and I spread my legs a little to give him greater access.

“Get to bed,” he growls.

“Patrick is going to be home any minute.”

“Then fucking hurry up,” he snaps, he grabs my hand and pulls me up the stairs and marches me down the hallway to our bedroom, once inside he flicks the lock and turns toward me.

We stare at each other, so much magic between us and yet when we are like this, only one thing matters.

Touch.

He goes to take my dress off over my head.

“We don’t have time for that,” I snap. “Just fuck me.”

He bends and takes my panties off and then points to the bed. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Excitement runs through me and I kneel on the side of the bed.

His fingers run through my flesh and he lets out a low whistle. “You have no fucking idea how hot you are like this.”

I giggle and then he grabs my hip bones and slams in hard, knocking the air from my lungs, holding himself deep.

My body ripples around him as it adjusts to his size.

In the beginning of my pregnancy Tristan was scared he was going to hurt the baby, but now…now he’s back to his bad boy self and I fucking love it.

He fucks me, deep and hard, and I can feel every vein on his thick engorged length as it hits just the right spot.

A car pulls up out the front. “Patrick is home.”

“Fuck it.” He pumps me harder, fast and furious. Chasing the release that we both need.

“So good,” I breathe.

He pushes my shoulders down to the bed with his hands and the change in position sends me spiraling headfirst into a killer of an orgasm, I moan into the mattress and he slams once…

Twice.

Three times, and holds himself deep as he comes into my body.

The front door slams shut. “Tristan, Mom?” Patrick calls from downstairs.

“Fuck it.” He pulls out and quickly kisses my behind and then slaps it.

“Got to go.” He puts his shorts on and runs to the door and disappears.

“Coming, buddy,” he calls as I hear him run down the stairs. “How was it?”

He knows that if he doesn’t go find Patrick, Patrick will come looking for us.

He’s giving me time to get myself together.

I smile into my pillow, my heart is still racing, my body quivering all over.

I need all the time.

Orgasmic relaxation is beginning to float in.

I’m taking a nap.

Tristan sits on the floor as he reads the instructions again. “No. that doesn’t make sense.”

“Give me that.” Harry snatches the instructions from him.

“I’m telling you that the wheels go on first,” Fletcher replies.

“Who wrote these instructions anyway?” Tristan huffs. “I’m sick of these idiots who can’t write instructions.”

“Maybe the people who can’t read them are the idiots.” I widen my eyes.

He fakes a smile and then drops his face deadpan.

Patrick holds up the bag of screws as he inspects them.

“Don’t lose those, Tricky.”

I watch from the rocking chair in the corner, the boys are in the nursery attempting to build the pram.

Attempting being the key word.

They built the cradle yesterday and the cot this morning, but this stroller has got them stumped.

“Are there any more instructions?” Tristan asks, distracted. “Surely that can’t be it.”

“When I get a hold of this guy,” Harry fumes, he punches his fist for added effect.

“Maybe we got some in that other envelope, I’ll go look.” I walk down to my bedroom and grab the paperwork and walk back to the nursery. “Here try this.” I pass it to Tristan.

He begins reading and frowns. “What’s this?”

“It’s the court papers.”

“For what?”

“For the adoption hearing.”

His eyes rise to meet mine.

“It’s time,” I whisper.

The boys gasp.

He blinks back tears. “What?”

“I want you to be the boy’s father.” I smile hopefully. “Legally. Before the baby comes.”

I secretly lodged the papers months ago and they have only just been approved.

He reads the papers as if unable to believe it and his face screws up in emotion.

“Look what you did, Harry,” Patrick snaps outraged. “He’s crying now because he has to be your father and you’re so naughty. Harry is going to be good from now on, aren’t you, Harry.”

Tristan pulls Patrick onto his lap. “They’re happy tears, Tricky.” He holds his arms out for the other boys. “Come here.”

“Stacks on,” Harry yells.

The boys all dive on Tristan and they all laugh and hug as they roll around on the floor. “I love you brats.”

“We love you too.”

Tears fill my eyes as I watch them, they are so close.

Wade would want this for his sons, to have a father who loves them with all of his heart. To give them what he no longer can.

The lump in my throat is so big that it hurts.

This is the right thing.

“All rise.” The judge walks into the family law court and the room stands.

We sit in the front row, all five of us.

Tristan is beaming with happiness, the children too. Dressed in their best suits, I think they are all more excited than when we got married.

This is a big deal to them.

And to me.

In my pregnant state I’m feeling overemotional. There have been lots of tears, happy tears. But when I saw Wade’s parents walk in quietly and sit at the back of the courtroom my heart broke a little.

It means a lot that they are here to support me and the kids with this. They adore Tristan and know this is what Wade would have wanted. It’s what’s best for the boys, I know it too, but it’s just all a little real today.

Jameson and Emily, Elliot and Christopher are all here, as are Tristan’s parents, my parents and brother.

It’s a big day for our family.

The judge has gray hair and is wearing a robe, he looks over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses and smiles at us with a kind nod, he then looks down at the paperwork in front of him. “I’m here today to call on the matter of adoption of Fletcher Anderson, Harrison Anderson, and Patrick Anderson.”

The room sits quietly and Tristan squeezes my hand in his.

“Mr. Miles, you have filled out the appropriate paperwork?” he asks as he looks over a pile of papers in front of him.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Tristan squeezes my hand again.

“I have reviewed the file and believe that it is in the best interest of Fletcher, Harrison and Patrick Anderson to be adopted by Tristan Miles.”

The boys all beam with excitement and I smile as I watch them, they are nearly jumping out of their seats and can hardly sit still.

“Firstly we will sign the adoption agreement. Parents are to sign and any child over the age of fourteen will sign for themselves.” He passes the paperwork to the secretary. “You may sign now.” Tristan and I and Fletcher stand and sign where we are told to.

Christopher is snapping away taking photos with his phone.

We sign where we are told and the secretary checks our signatures and hands the papers back to the judge, he reads them over the top of his glasses.

“By signing this document I hereby declare that you, Tristan Miles, are now a parent under the eyes of law. You will have all rights and duties of the parent-child relationship but most importantly all of the joys.”

Tristan smiles broadly down at the boys.

“Congratulations, Mr. Miles.” He bangs his hammer. “May you all be a very happy family.”

He gets up and walks out of the room and Tristan and the boys hug.

Everyone shakes his hand and hugs the boys and I glance over to Wade’s parents who are still sitting in the back row.

I’m glad they came, I really am.

They eventually make their way down to us and Tristan turns and shakes

Wade’s father’s hand and kisses his mother on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming. It means a lot.”

“Wade would have wanted us here.”

And the tears come, filling my eyes with love and sadness and memories and hope.

Wade’s mom pulls me in for a hug as I try to pull myself together, she gets it.

I’m sad for Wade, but happy for the boys.

“We’re having afternoon tea back at our house,” Tristan says to them.

“We would love it if you could join us.”

“That would be lovely.” Frank nods. “We will meet you there.” With one more hug for the boys from everyone, we make our way back out to the parking lot and all climb in the car. “So what do we call you now?” Harrison asks from the back seat.

Tristan’s eyes flick up to him in the rearview mirror. “Whatever you want to call me.”

“Donkey,” Harrison asks.

I giggle, if only they knew how much that suits him.

“Not Donkey.” Tristan rolls his eyes.

“Well if I can’t call you Donkey, I’m calling you Dad,” Harry says.

“Okay….” Tristan’s nostrils flare as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Dad it is.”

“Can I call you Daddy?” I tease.

Tristan’s eyes flick over to me and then drop down to my breasts.

Dirty bastard.

“He’s not your daddy, Mom,” Patrick announces. “He’s ours, you already have a dad.”

Tristan chuckles and picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips.

“Oh for god’s sake, concentrate on the road,” Harry moans.

Two months later.

“You call me tonight and check in,” Tristan tells Fletcher.

“Yes.”

“And I don’t want you driving after ten at night.”

Fletcher rolls his eyes.

“Actually, don’t go out at all until we get back. It’s just a week, it won’t hurt you to stay at home with your brothers. You are in charge of the house, stay here and concentrate on that.”

“Dad.” Fletcher moans. “Stop.”

“I just don’t…..” Tristan turns back to me. “Maybe this isn’t a good time to go away, Claire.”

“We are going.” I widen my eyes at him. “I want some time alone with my husband.”

Tristan exhales heavily as if I’m the biggest inconvenience in the world and looks back to the boys who are lined up in a row to say goodbye. We are going away for a week before the baby is born, Mom and Dad are here to stay with the kids.

We booked it back when we first got married but now that it’s come around, Tristan is frantic about leaving the boys, this is the first time he’s had to do it.

Tristan moves to Harrison. “Harry, now….” He pauses as he thinks for a moment. “You know what is going to happen if you get into trouble while we are gone, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Harry nods.

“And is it going to be worth it?”

“No, Dad.”

“And you are in charge of what?”

“Cleaning the pool and mowing the lawn.”

Tristan nods and hugs him. “Right, look after your grandparents, please.

And no gaming after nine.”

I smirk as I watch on.

He moves to Patrick. “Okay, Tricky, you are in charge of the animals and watering the garden.”

“I know.” Patrick smiles proudly.

“And helping Gran.”

“I know.”

“And you can ring us anytime. You know that don’t you, because I’ll be waiting for you to call me and it doesn’t matter if it’s even in the middle of the night.”

“Tristan.” I cut him off, seriously we’ll be here all day.

“Okay, okay.” He hugs everyone a second time.

“Thanks so much.” I hug my mom and then my dad. “We really appreciate this.”

“You kids have fun.”

“We will.” Tristan smiles as he shakes my father’s hand, “Thank you.

Call me anytime because….”

“Tristan,” everyone yells, cutting him off.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Get in the car, woman.”

He tries to act tough as he opens my car door for me.

“Bye everyone,” I call. “I’m so excited.”

Tristan closes the door, gets behind the wheel and looks over at me. “Are you ready for your babymoon, Mrs. Miles?”

I smirk. “You bet your fucking life I am.”

The plane touches down on the runway and I smile over at my traveling partner.

We are heading to Jameson’s luxury beach house in Miami, it was as beachy as we could get without leaving the US. With me being this pregnant, Tristan was too nervous to leave the country.

I peer out the window of the private jet to see the car on the tarmac waiting for us, I just can’t wait to get there.

Three days later.

I lie on the deckchair and smile up at the sun, topless and pregnant and good lord I must look a treat. The sun on my skin is too perfect to cover up.

Tristan is sleeping on his deckchair beside me and this is the most relaxed I have ever seen him. He’s been so busy with work and the kids and the house and preparing for the baby, he literally hasn’t stopped for months.

We needed this.

Time away on our own to breathe. To take the time to enjoy each other, no thinking about dinner, no chores and no kids squabbling over the dinner table.

Just the two of us and all the loud sex we can have.

And trust me, we’ve had a lot. I think the paint is peeling off the walls from the things it has seen.

We had cheese and biscuits for dinner last night, and it was fucking perfect.

We lay by the pool and watched the sun go down, Tris drank cocktails, I drank mocktails and we ate our weight in cheese and biscuits. By the time it came around for us to go out to dinner we were both full and didn’t feel like going. So we had a two-hour soak in the hot tub instead.

I pick up Tristan’s notepad and pen and read through the names we have narrowed it down to. Is there anything harder than choosing a baby’s name?

TOP CHOICES.

GIRLS

Summer

Phoebe

Sage

Micha

Arna

Poppy

Violet

Keeley

BOYS

William—Billy

Evan

Arlo

Regan

Art

Nate

Braxton

Cooper

I smile as I go over the names, Tris has put so much thought into this.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice still sleepy.

I glance over. “I don’t know.” I twist my lips as I go over the list. “I want a name that goes with the other boys’ names but then it has to sound strong with Miles.”

“Anderson-Miles,” he replies.

I glance over to him. “What do you mean?”

“I want the baby’s surname to be Anderson-Miles, I want it to have the same surname as its mother and brothers.”

“You want the baby to have Wade’s surname?”

He shrugs. “He’s sharing his sons with me, it’s only fair I share my child with him. He’s a part of this family too.”

My eyes well with tears as I stare at him.

Just when you think you couldn’t love someone more than you already do.

“No, Tristan. You will not share this baby with anyone. You are its father and its surname will be Miles and only Miles.”

He gives me the best come-fuck-me look of all time.

I sit up and lean over and kiss him softly. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you offered that.” My lips linger over his. “My god, I love you so much,” I whisper. “How do I ever deserve you?”

He cups my face in his hands as our kiss deepens. “You should probably suck my dick to prove it.”

I giggle, typical Tristan Miles answer, nothing will ever change. “It always comes back to sucking dick with you, doesn’t it?”

He smiles and pulls me down on top of him, “You know it, wench. Get busy.”

Tristan sways me to the music on the dance floor. “I don’t want to go home tomorrow.” He smiles against my temple.

“Me neither.” I smile against his lips. “Thank you, this has been one of the best weeks of my life.”

And it has, swimming, sunning, laughing and love.

So much love.

“It has.” He smiles wistfully as he looks out over the crowd. “I’m nervous about the baby coming.”

“You are?” I frown. “Why, you are a natural with kids?”

“It means less time with you.”

My eyes search his. “You will never have less time with me.”

“We both know that’s not true. Our time together is already so….”

“Crowded?” I smile.

He smirks as if not wanting to elaborate.

“Tris.” I look up at him. “One day, these children will all be gone, moved out and living their own lives and it will be just me and you. All alone in our big old house.”

“Promise?”

My heart breaks a little, this is the first time in our relationship that he has ever admitted that he needs more alone time. I need to make more of an effort after the baby comes. “I promise.” We keep swaying to the music. “We should make a new family tradition.”

“What’s that?”

“You and I should come back here every year on our own for a week. Just the two of us.”

He smiles down at me. “We could do that.”

“Maybe next year we can make another baby or maybe even twins.”

He winces. “Calm down, Anderson. Fuck.”

I giggle and he takes my lips in his with a perfect kiss, tender and loving.

Hot and heavy, all the things that my beautiful husband is. His hand slides over my pregnant stomach as he holds me close, I feel his arousal roll in like a fog. We are so physically in sync, it’s like we share a body. “I need to get you home, Mrs. Miles.”

I smile up at him. “Well that depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you are going to do bad things to my body.”

“That can be arranged.” He smiles darkly as he runs his hand over my stomach once more. “Well, as bad as I can do with you in this condition.”

“You mean the beach ball condition?”

He pulls me by the hand off the dance floor. “I’m talking the orca whale condition.”

I burst out laughing and so does he. “Are you calling me a whale?” I fake gasp.

“Don’t worry, I love whales.” He picks up my coat and handbag.

“Especially fucking them.”

I laugh out loud. “You need to stop talking now, Mr. Miles.”

“I know.”

I lie on my side in the darkness, the room is lit only by a lamp and Tristan is lying behind me, his body butted up close to mine. He has my top leg hooked over his forearm as his hand rests protectively over my stomach.

His thick cock slides into my wet flesh and I whimper as my body ripples around his, this is our position of choice right now. We can kiss, and he can fuck me deep without fear of hurting me.

Not that he ever could.

His grip on my stomach gets tighter as he gets faster, the bed begins to hit the wall and I moan, deep and low.

So. Fucking. Good.

“Fuck me,” I whimper into his mouth. “Fuck me deep.”

His eyes flicker with arousal as he picks up the pace, his hips moving at piston pace. The sound of my wet body sucking him in echoes around the room. He reaches up and pinches my nipple and I convulse into an orgasm; I cry out as he does too.

He holds himself deep and I feel the jerk of his cock as it empties inside of me.

He grabs my face and kisses me so tenderly that I melt into him.

We are so in love.

Tristan

Tomorrow is the day.

“Okay, so we have nightgowns.” Patrick and I are doing a last check on Claire’s hospital bag. I was looking in Claire’s purse for something today and I found a list from the hospital about what she should bring with her, it’s the first time I’ve seen it. She is completely disregarding the list.

Patrick and I are not.

I fold the four nightgowns and put them on a pile on the bed, I’ve checked this bag ten times but I keep getting the feeling that we have forgotten something. Now that I have a list I can finally check it for real.

Claire is way too relaxed about all of this, she could care less about what we could forget. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

“What else is on the list, Tricky?” I ask.

“Toilet rees bag.” Patrick sounds it out.

I put the toiletries bag on the bed. “Check.”

“Sanitary….”

“Check.” I put the three packets of pads onto the bed.

Patrick picks up a packet and turns it around to look at the back.

“What even are these things?”

“Pillows for the baby.” I snatch the packet off him and put it onto the bed.

“Black underpants.” He continues reading, he looks up at me. “Why do they have to be black?”

“I don’t know, weird girls’ stuff.” I shrug. “Who knows what goes on down there. Next?”

“Socks.”

I throw six pairs of socks onto the bed. “Actually, she probably needs more.” I go to her drawer and get another two pairs out.

“Clothes for the baby.”

“What?” I frown.

“It says here…clothes for the baby.”

“Give me that.” I snatch the list from him. “She never told me that we needed to pack clothes for the baby.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

I catch sight of Claire outside in the hall. “Claire,” I call. “Come here please.”

She walks in. “Yeah?”

“Did you forget something?” I widen my eyes at her. “Something very important.”

“Like what?”

“Like clothes for the baby?” I gasp. “Do you think this child is going to be a nudist? Like what, is it going to just freeball in the hospital chucking leg-spreads everywhere?”

“You idiot?” She rolls her eyes. “So…. Go pack clothes for the baby, then.” She saunters back out of the room without a care in the world.

“Fucking unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath. “Now I’m going to need a whole new bag.”

“What for?”

“Clothes for the baby, Patrick. What bag will we use?”

Patrick thinks for a moment and shrugs.

I march out into the hallway and call down the stairs. “Claire, what bag will I pack clothes for the baby in?”

Silence….

“Claire?”

“The nappy bag, Tristan,” she replies deadpan.

“Ahh….” I nod. “But don’t we need that for the nappies?”

“You’re killing me,” she calls back.

I’ll fucking kill you in a minute.

I march back to the bedroom. “Your mother said use the nappy bag.”

“But isn’t that for nappies?” Patrick frowns.

“That’s exactly what I said.” I walk into the baby’s room and look around for Patrick. “Well, are you coming?”

“Yes.” Patrick sighs as he saunters in and sits on the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“Oh, am I inconveniencing you?” I huff.

He lies back and kicks his legs up over the arm of the chair.

“I’ll have you know, Patrick, that you have a baby brother or sister arriving tomorrow and it is our job to make sure it has clothes to wear.”

He looks at me deadpan.

“Because your mother obviously doesn’t care.”

“I heard that,” Claire calls from our bedroom.

“Stop eavesdropping on our conversations,” I call back.

“Okay.” I open the wardrobe doors; sweet little baby clothes are all hanging up on tiny, cute hangers, and a rush of excitement runs through me.

Tomorrow.

“Okay.” I open a drawer. “What should we pack?” I pull out a singlet, it’s teeny tiny and about thirty centimeters long, I glance back over my shoulder to Patrick. “Does your mother think we are having a snake?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know much, do you?”

He shrugs again.

I grab a pile of snake singlets and put them onto the change table.

“Nappies.”

I tap my temple. “Aha, for the nappy bag.” I grab a pile of nappies and put them on the change table.

“Going-out clothes,” Patrick says.

“Hmm.” I look around the wardrobe. “What does a baby class as going-out clothes?”

Patrick shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Fuck’s sake.

I march back into my bedroom to see Claire lying on the bed with her eyes closed, she looks so peaceful but we have shit to do, there is absolutely no time for sleeping. “Claire.” I tap her on the foot. “Claire.”

“What, Tristan?” She sighs as if I am the biggest inconvenience in the world.

This is inconvenient to me too, you know?

“How many outfits should I pack for the baby?”

She opens one eye to look at me. “What do you mean, outfits?”

“Outfits, clothes.” I widen my eyes; how does she not know what that means?

“The baby doesn’t wear outfits, Tris.”

“What do you mean?”

“It will wear onesies.”

“What?” I screw up my face. “All the time?”

“They are comfortable.” She closes her eyes again. “I was just going

to throw a bag together tonight, don’t stress about it. If I need anything while we are at the hospital you can just bring it up.”

“Oh.” I stare at her for a moment, I feel so dumb at all of this.

She taps the bed beside her. “Right now I need a hug from my husband.”

I lie down beside her and she takes me into her arms and kisses my forehead. “You’re very cute packing the bags. Thank you.”

I roll my eyes.

Cute.

“You’re going to be the best dad.” She smiles with her eyes closed.

“This baby is so lucky.” She runs her fingers through my hair as I mentally go through what else I need to do today.

“Are you having an affair with a snake?” I ask.

“What?” Her eyes open in surprise.

“The singlets you bought are not human, they’re for a baby snake.”

She bursts out laughing. “They are long so you can tuck them in, you idiot.”

“Oh.” I smirk. “That makes more sense.”

“What are you doing?” Patrick calls. “Muffy, no.”

“What’s happening in there?” I yell.

“Muff is sitting in the nappy bag.”

I fly out of bed like a maniac. “If that cat pisses in the nappy bag it is genuinely meeting its maker.”

I change into the robe and put the hairnet on. I put the medical booties on over my shoes and wash my hands.

I’m sick with nerves.

Claire is being prepped for surgery. Because she has had what they call three unsuccessful natural births in the past she is having a scheduled C-section.

“Are you ready, Mr. Miles?” the nurse asks me.

“Yes.”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump goes my heart.

“This way, please.”

I follow the nurse into the operating theater and see Claire all gowned up with a hairnet on. She smiles over at me. “Hey you.”

“Hi.” I feel faint.

A screen is up between her and her stomach, the sound of two heartbeats echoes through the room and my heart twists. A huge light hangs above the operating table.

This is full on.

“You can sit here.” The nurse pulls me up a chair beside the bed and I sit down and take Claire’s hand in mine. “Oh my god, are you okay?” I whisper as I kiss her forehead. “Are you okay?”

She smiles and nods. “It’s fine, babe, calm down. It’s going to be fine.”

Such a Claire thing to say, always worrying about everyone else but herself.

“Hello, Tristan. Let’s deliver your baby, shall we?” the doctor says casually as if he does this every day.

I mean, he probably does but whatever.

“Sounds good.” I keep my eyes focused on Claire and in my peripheral vision I can see the doctor and nurses moving. Claire’s body jiggles around a little and I screw up my face and kiss her temple. “I love you,” I whisper.

Her body moves around some more as if they are moving her and she has no control and I feel like I can’t breathe.

My god.

I cling to Claire’s hand so tightly, please be okay.

Please be okay.

If something were to happen to her….

Her body moves quite violently and she closes her eyes as if in pain.

“Did that hurt?” I stammer.

“No. Just a weird sensation.” She smiles up at me. “I’m okay.”

I nod nervously and my eyes flick over to the doctors, what’s taking so long?

Her body moves again and the curtain is dropped in time to see them lift the baby out of her stomach. It’s covered in white stuff and chubby and big. It cries out loud and Claire laughs. “It’s a little girl.” The doctor smiles.

A girl.

My eyes widen.

A girl.

They lift the baby to lie on Claire’s chest and Claire kisses her forehead. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she whispers.

Their silhouette blurs.

“Tristan,” Claire whispers though tears. “Look at her.”

I kiss the baby’s tiny head and then Claire’s as I hold them tight.

The tears won’t stop and I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands.

“I love you. So much.” I hold Claire close as we both stare at the perfect little girl. “I love you too, baby.”

The nurse comes over. “We need to check the baby’s vitals over now.”

She goes to take the baby and Claire’s eyes flick to me. “Go with her.”

“What?”

“You stay with the baby, do not take your eyes off her for a second.”

“What about you?” My eyes flick to the doctor.

“We will be stitching here for a while; Claire will meet the two of you back at the room,” the doctor says.

What?

I want us all to stay together, I don’t want to leave Claire here alone.

No.

The nurse wraps the baby and Claire’s eyes flick to me once more.

“Go with her, Tristan, don’t leave her alone.”

My eyes flick between Claire and the baby….

“She needs you,” Claire whispers.

Hearing those words wakes something up in me, something I’ve never experienced before.

“Okay.” On autopilot, I stand, and with my heart in my throat I follow the nurse out of the operating theater. I glance back to my love lying alone on the operating table and for the first time in my life I get it.

Being a parent is putting your baby before yourself…every time in every circumstance.

We walk through to another room and I watch on silently as the baby is weighed, her little wristband is put on. They do a heel-prick test and she screams loudly.

“She didn’t like that, listen to those strong lungs.” The nurse laughs.

I smile through tears, she’s feisty like her mom.

The nurse wipes her face and dresses her and then wraps her up tightly in a pink bunny blanket, she puts her into a crib on wheels. “Let’s take you to the room.”

I follow the nurse down the corridor as I have some kind of out-of-body moment.

Everything is so casual, as if this is just any normal day.

But it’s not just any day.

A perfect little soul has just entered the world, it’s monumental.

We get to Claire’s room and I look around, it’s not right that she isn’t here yet. That the boys aren’t here yet.

“You can hold her while you wait for Claire.”

I stare at her wide eyed, I don’t know if I’m in shock or what?

“Sit in the chair and I’ll pass her to you.”

“Okay.” I fall into the recliner in the corner and the nurse picks up the baby and passes her to me.

Oh….

I stare at her perfect little face as she stares up at me.

“Hi,” I whisper. “You’re so pretty.”

She has dark hair like me, long eyelashes, and rosy lips.

So perfect.

I run my finger down her face and try and memorize this moment in time. Take every single second on the record because I know that as long as I live that I never want to forget this feeling.

She reaches up and grabs my finger, my heart stops, and my eyes well with tears anew. This is a real living little person, with her own heart and mind.

A piece of me and Claire.

Oh my god.

I hear clattering coming down the corridor outside and I hear Claire’s laugh.

She’s here.

I stand and with our bundled-up tiny baby in my arms I wait for my wife. Claire comes into view and the tears start again.

My god, stop it.

Claire laughs when she sees me. “Here they are. My two babies.”

They wheel Claire in and check all of her vitals as we both stand in the corner and wait patiently. She’s hooked up to blood-pressure machines.

“Do you want to hold her?” I ask.

She nods and I carefully pass her over, she’s so small that I’m scared I’m going to break her.

“Hey, bubba.” She smiles as she looks down at her. “You are so cute.”

I get a lump in my throat as I watch on.

She rearranges her and the nurse lifts her onto her nipple and she begins to suck.

How the hell does she know how to do that already?

My kid is a genius.

The nurses finally leave us alone and I sit on the side of the bed and kiss Claire’s forehead.

There are no words for what I’m feeling.

Love drunk….

“Tris.” Claire smiles down at her. “She’s perfect.”

“Like you.” I hold her close. “Thank you, I have never loved you more.”

We both smile down at her.

“What do you want to name her?” Claire asks. “It’s your pick, I like all of the names on your list so it’s up to you.”

I stare down at her and smile, I know exactly what to call her.

“Summer Claire Miles.”

Claire’s eyes cloud over. “It’s the perfect name.”

“For the perfect child, did you see how smart she is knowing how to do that when she was born like five minutes ago?”

Claire giggles.

“The kid is a genius.”

“Patrick, walk faster.” We hear squabbling from the corridor. The boys come into view and they all stop at the door, wide eyed.

“Come and meet your sister, boys.” I smile proudly.

“A girl?” Patrick frowns.

Claire smiles. “A little girl.”

Harry winces. “A girl?”

“Yes, a girl,” I snap.

Thank fuck not another boy.

The boys all crowd around the bed and watch on in silence, half shocked. Who am I kidding, completely shocked.

As am I.

“Her name is Summer.” Claire smiles dreamily as she looks down at her. “Summer Miles.”

The boys all goo and ga over her.

She finishes feeding and Claire rewraps her.

Harry holds his arms out. “Can I hold her?”

I break into a cold sweat; I get an image of him accidently dropping her on her head or some shit. “Um….” I glance to Claire.

“Let her rest now, baby, she’s had a big day, you can hold her tonight.”

Phew….

I stand back and look around the room at my four children and wife.

So much to love.

Claire

I watch Summer sleep in her crib, so peaceful and serene. Her little arms are up by her face and every now and then she sucks her bottom lip. She has dark hair and olive skin, rosy lips.

An angel.

She looks so much like her dad; the perfect little bundle of joy and I had no idea the level of peace she would bring me. It’s as if my whole being has let out a deep sigh of relief.

She’s here.

A little girl to love forever. I was a young mother last time, caught in a whirlwind of business. Desperate to keep working and prove my worth to myself and the world.

This time will be different, nothing else matters. I know my worth now and I’m going to savor every single second of time with this beloved baby girl.

“Knock, knock,” sounds at the door.

“Come in.”

“Hello, is now a good time?”

A familiar face comes into view with a huge bunch of flowers and I laugh. “Gabriel, you came to visit me.”

“Ahhh, bella.” He kisses my cheeks and holds my arms as he looks me over. “Look at you, all glowing and momlike.” He glances over to the crib.

“This is her.”

“It is,” I gush. “Look how beautiful she is.”

This is a big deal for Gabriel to come here and see me, he and Tristan don’t get along and although I know that will never change, they do tolerate each other for me.

He smiles down at the crib and rubs his hand over her hair. “So precious.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

“What is her name?”

“Summer.”

He smiles.

“Summer Miles.” He raises an eyebrow and I giggle. “Don’t say it.”

“Her complexion is so dark compared to your other children,” he says as he looks her over.

“She looks just like her father.”

“Oh.” He softly strokes her hair with his fingertips. “You poor darling.”

I go to sit up and wince and he frowns. “What’s happening, are you in pain?”

“I had a C-section.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Long story, it was planned, I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“I bought you flowers.” He digs something out of his pocket and passes over a little pink gift box. “Open it later.”

“Don’t you want to see what Gracie bought us?” I smirk.

He chuckles. “You know me too well, Claire.” He takes a seat on the chair in the corner of the room.

“How is Gracie?” I ask.

“She’s leaving me.”

“What?” I frown. “What do you mean?”

“She’s bought a place in god knows where and has handed in her resignation. Her last day is on Friday.”

My face falls. “Well…did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re hopelessly in love with her.”

He rolls his eyes. “Where do you come up with this shit? I am not in love with Gracie.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why the fuck would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

He exhales heavily. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. I do, I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’ve loved her for years.”

“Enough.”

“Well…you need to stop her from leaving.”

“I already tried. She won’t stay.” He puffs air into his cheeks. “It’s probably for the best anyway.”

I watch him for a moment, I know him, he would be really down about this.

“Anyway.” He sits up. “I just popped in for a quick visit, I have to go before the firing squad arrives.”

I giggle.

“Can you take a photo of me holding Summer to put on the front page of Ferrara News tomorrow?” He winks.

“Can you imagine?”

“Maybe I could be her godfather.” He raises his eyebrow mischievously.

“Tristan would have a heart attack.”

“That’s the point of it.”

“You are so bad.” I giggle. “Behave.”

The way Gabriel purposely baits the Miles brothers is next level. If we hadn’t been such good friends before I met Tristan, I wouldn’t understand it.

But Gabriel’s different, he isn’t who they see.

I know the real him.

Mind you, I don’t blame them at all for disliking him. Tristan and I have had the biggest fights in our relationship over my friendship with Gabe, but he’s staying in my life. It’s nonnegotiable, he was a dear, dear friend to me after Wade died and at a time when I felt totally alone, he always had my back.

As much as Tristan dislikes him, I know he respects him because of how he’s protected me in the past. Not that he’ll ever admit it.

He stands and takes my hand in his. “Congratulations, bella, you deserve to be happy.”

I smile up at him as I hold his hand in mine. “So do you.”

He exhales heavily. “Maybe one day.”

“You hate that you like Gracie that way, don’t you?”

“I hate meddling friends more.” He kisses my cheek. “Call me when you can have lunch.”

“Thank you for coming, it means a lot.”

He disappears out the door and I turn back to my full-time position of Summer staring.

Sigh…. She’s so perfect.

“Here we are. Home sweet home.” Tristan smiles as he pulls into the driveway.

The boys are all lined up on the veranda waiting with a bunch of flowers each, I giggle. “How long have they been waiting there?”

Tristan throws me a sexy wink and comes around and helps me out of the car, the boys come rushing out and clamber around us.

“Thank god you’re finally home,” Patrick moans. “It’s been so long.”

Tristan goes to the back seat and unlatches Summer’s little carrier; he carefully carries her inside to hushed excitement of the boys.

Fletcher opens the door and Tristan carefully walks into the house with Summer, he stumbles and trips on a football boot, he goes careering toward a wall and just stops himself in time.

“Shoes in the foyer,” he hisses through gritted teeth as he looks around to the boys.

“Sorry,” Patrick whispers, he picks up the boots and opens the door and hurls them out the front door.

“Quite sure they don’t go there either.” Tristan widens his eyes.

“I’ll get them later,” Patrick replies. “Can I hold her now?”

“Let’s show Summer her bedroom first.” I smile.

To the excited whispers of the boys, Tristan carries the carrier upstairs and down to her bedroom. “So help me god,” he whispers angrily. “I’m going to kill that fucking cat.”

“Don’t swear in front of her,” Patrick cries.

We’ve been drilling into the boys about using appropriate language in front of the baby.

“What are you talking about?” I look around the room and then I see it and burst out laughing.

Muff the cat is curled up asleep in Summer’s cot.

Tristan passes me the carrier. “Hold this, darling,” he says a little too sweetly.

“Don’t….”

He picks Muff up and pretends to whisper in her ear. “You are going to meet a grisly end, my friend. Mark my words.” He puts her outside the room and closes the door. “Where were we?” He looks around the room at the boys all gathered around Summer on the floor.

“I believe we were in heaven,” I say as I watch the four of them together.

He smiles and kisses me softly. “I know we are.”

I look at the empty cradle and roll my eyes. “Where is my baby?” Not in her cradle as usual, I walk downstairs to find Tristan lying on the couch with Summer bundled up and sleeping in his arms. He cannot leave her alone, he wants to hold her all the time. Between him and the boys she is never left alone for even a second.

They are obsessed.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Watching television, what does it look like?”

“Why is Summer not in her crib?”

“She was lonely.”

“She was asleep, Tristan. You don’t get lonely when you are asleep.”

“She’s so little, she hates being up there by herself. She said she likes to be down here with me.”

“She said that?” I look at him deadpan.

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s ten days old, she can’t speak.”

“Telepathically, Claire, telepathically.” He taps his temple and then looks down at his daughter. “You like sleeping on me, don’t you, baby? I’m the ultimate mattress.”

I smirk because they really are so cute together. “This is all great for when you are home, Tris, but you are creating a monster here. When you go back to work, I can’t sit still all day while she sleeps in my arms, I have a household to run. You are only making it harder for her.”

He looks up at me unimpressed.

“She needs to go back to her crib.”

“Maybe you should go back to work, then, and I’ll stay home,” he mumbles as he kisses her tiny head. “You can sleep on me all day long,” he says in a baby voice.

I point to the stairs. “Crib.”

“Five more minutes.” He turns back to the television.

“I’m going to the shops quickly with Mom to pick up some things, are you okay to watch her for half an hour?”

“Uh-huh,” He smiles as if glad that I’m leaving.

I smile back. “You’re not going to put her back in her crib, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Five years later.

“I’m going, Mom,” Fletcher calls.

“Hang on, I’m coming.”

I swaddle Billy up in his blanket and make my way downstairs, Fletcher is going back to his place after staying here last night.

He lives in Tristan’s penthouse in Tribeca now, all grown up and not my little baby anymore. He’s got new friends that are more suited to him and the stage of life he is in. Some of them are stockbrokers, a doctor, a law student…. All playboys I bet, not that I want to know anything about that.

We have six children now, our three older boys and then we had two little girls, Summer and Poppy, and then another little boy, William, who we call Billy.

We walk Fletcher out the front, Tristan has a daughter on each hip and Patrick takes Billy from me and holds him.

Harry is staying with Elliot and Kate, he’s doing work experience in the London office, he’s been with them for six weeks now and seems to be having the time of his life. He’s doing an internship with Miles Media just like Fletcher did at his age and loving every second of it…I’m not quite sure Jameson knew what he was getting himself into there.

Fletcher throws his basket of washing into the passenger seat of his Porsche. “You know you have a washing machine at your place, right?”

Tristan mutters dryly.

“Yeah.”

I giggle. “He doesn’t know how to use it.”

Tristan walks around the car inspecting it. “You need to wash your car.”

“I know, Dad.” He rolls his eyes.

“I still can’t believe you bought a Porsche.” I sigh as I look it over, I hardly recognize my little boy anymore. Power suit, power car, penthouse, and player friends.

A Miles man through and through.

“He worked hard for it,” Tristan scoffs. “What’s the point of waiting until you are sixty to buy the car of your dreams? Life is short, Claire; you’ve got to play hard.”

Fletcher kisses us all and hugs me extra tight.

“I hate it when you leave.”

“He’ll be back tomorrow.” Tristan rolls his eyes.

Tristan doesn’t miss him as much as I do because he sees him every day at work.

Anderson Media is booming and they are busier than ever.

Fletcher gets into the car and we watch it disappear down the road as we wave.

Life is different now, quieter but louder. Busier but calmer. Grown up but then still just babies.

It’s like my life has had two parts. The life before Tristan and the life we live now.

“Can I go to a party tonight?” Patrick asks.

“No,” Tristan replies as we walk back inside. “You’re grounded, remember?”

I smirk, our sweet little Tricky has turned into quite the ratbag, got caught drinking last weekend. Him and his friends drank a cask of wine in the garage and they would have got away with it too if Patrick didn’t come staggering out blind drunk.

“Can my friends come over?”

“No.”

“What am I supposed to do all weekend, then?” Patrick moans as we walk up the front steps.

Tristan glares at him. “Try not to get murdered.”