Later, after everyone has been assessed and cleaned up, Violet sits up in the bed, her arms propped on pillows, cradling both babies. I lie beside her, my arms around her, staring down at two identical sets of perfect little lips and noses, and ten tiny fingers each.
Violet raises her eyes to mine. 揕ook at what we did, Connor.?
揧eah,?I say reverently. 揕ook at what we did.?
It always takes you off-guard梩he way your heart expands, the instantaneous, overwhelming love that swallows you whole.
揝o what do you think??I ask Violet.
Because we already have two names picked out, but we wanted to wait until they were born to see which name was a better fit for which baby.
Violet lifts her right arm slightly.
揑 think this is Peyton.?
揃ecause she was born first??
揧eah.?Vi nods, smiling wide and gorgeously. 揝he was like, look out梒oming through.?
She turns her attention to our daughter in her left arm.
揥hereas Hailey over here . . . ?
揥as happy to hang back, enjoy the womb a little while longer,?I finish for her.
揈xactly.?
We gave them floral middle names in honor of Violet抯 mom.
She kisses each baby抯 nose and whispers, 揥elcome to the world, Peyton Rose and Hailey Iris.?
My heart pounds and my chest squeezes, because I抦 so blown away by her . . . I always have been. By her strength and her beauty and the exquisite joy she brings into my life, just by being all that she is.
My voice is raw, humbled. 揑 love you, Violet.?
I抣l never not love her桰抣l never stop being grateful for her.
She turns to me, smiling.
揑 love you too, Connor. Just when I think I love you as much as I possibly can . . . you go and make me love you more.?
I kiss her lips, long and slow. And then I run my fingertip across the powdery softness of our daughters?cheeks.
揕ook at our sweet girls,?I whisper.
They own me already . . . just like their mom.
And I wouldn抰 want it any other way.
EPILOGUE TWO
Connor
Six months later
On a warm, fall, Saturday night, Garrett and Callie have us over to their house for dinner.
My brother抯 still flying high about the Lakeside Lions?blow-out victory the night before and Dean抯 happy to kick back and relax after taking Lainey and their daughter on tour with his band down the Jersey shore all summer.
Violet and I are pretty psyched too. With the boys?extracurriculars going full speed ahead and two new babies in the house梬e don抰 get out much.
揚eyyyyton,?Spencer groans with patient exhaustion.
Because we抮e out on the back patio, overlooking the lake, and my daughter has just dropped her plastic, multicolored toy keys over the side of her Exersaucer for the millionth time. Spencer takes his newfound big-brother responsibilities very seriously . . . but everybody has their breaking point.
Still, Spencer dutifully retrieves the keys and puts them on the tray in front of his baby sister.
And Peyton immediately tosses them over the side.
Again.
Then she lets out one of those, deep, loud, full-bellied baby giggles and everyone within earshot laughs out loud right along with her.
Because that sound is the Borg in audio form梤esistance is futile.
Violet hit the bullseye when she named our daughters and guessed at their dispositions. They抮e both preciously gorgeous with dark hair and their mother抯 big, brown, heart-owning eyes. And Vi says they both have my smile梑ut their personalities couldn抰 be more different.
Peyton is demanding and mischievous, precocious and full of endless energy.
Hailey reminds me of Brayden when he was a baby梒alm and thoughtful, low maintenance and content. Even now, she lies on a blanket on the grass a few feet away, gazing up at the sky and happily sucking on her big toe.
揌ow long can she do this??Spencer asks, after yet another round of pick-up-the-keys-servant-brother.
揊orever,?Violet tells him.
Then she laughs. 揑t抯 okay, Spence梱ou can go桰抣l take over.?
Violet is exactly the same kind of mother as she is a person梥elfless and warm, strong and sensible, kind and gentle and amazingly loving.
揟hank you, Violet,?Spence sighs, giving her a high five. 揑 owe you.?
And he runs over to the firepit where Brayden, Aaron, and Lainey抯 son, Jason梬ho are both home for the weekend梐re roasting hot dogs and talking about college and cars.
On the other end of the patio, Lainey watches Dean tossing a football with Garrett and Callie抯 son, Will. Beside her little Charlotte and Ava sing an adorably jumbled lullaby and push a baby stroller gently back and forth together.
A stroller that contains Lucy桪ean抯 grandmother抯 black cat.
To hear Dean tell it, Lucy attempts to maim him on a regular basis梑ut Dean抯 daughter, Ava, can do no wrong梬hich explains the eyelet baby bonnet the formerly feral feline is currently comfortably sporting.
Garrett and Callie are at the grill梙olding hands and occasionally kissing in between flipping steaks and sipping wine. And their never-not-happy golden retriever, Woody, lies at their feet.
I gaze out over the water and the surrounding trees that are just getting their autumn colors.
It抯 Violet抯 favorite time of day. The sun is going down, lighting up the whole lake with swirls of bright orange, pink and gold, and light shades of purple.
And it抯 a good night . . . a good life.
A beautiful life梖or all of us梚n a great little town, filled with the best kinds of people.
They say home is where the heart is, and that statement is totally true.
But sometimes, if you抮e lucky, it works both ways . . . and you find your heart right where your home抯 been all along.
If you want to stay in Lakeside longer,
don抰 miss the other books in the standalone Getting Some series:
Getting Schooled
Getting Played
And continue reading for a sneak peek of ROYALLY SCREWED,
the first book in the Royally series.
PREVIEW OF
ROYALLY SCREWED
PROLOGUE
MY VERY FIRST MEMORY isn抰 all that different from anyone else抯。 I was three years old and it was my first day of preschool. For some reason, my mother ignored the fact that I was actually a boy and dressed me in God-awful overalls, a frilly cuffed shirt and patent-leather brogues. I planned to smear finger paint on the outfit the first chance I got.
But that抯 not what stands out most in my mind.
By then, spotting a camera lens pointed my way was as common as seeing a bird in the sky. I should抳e been used to it梐nd I think I was. But that day was different.
Because there were hundreds of cameras.
Lining every inch of the sidewalk and the streets, and clustered together at the entrance of my school like a sea of one-eyed monsters, waiting to pounce. I remember my mother抯 voice, soothing and constant as I clung to her hand, but I couldn抰 make out her words. They were drowned out by the roar of snapping shutters and the shouts of photographers calling my name.
揘icholas! Nicholas, this way, smile now! Look up, lad! Nicholas, over here!?
It was the first inkling I抎 had that I was梩hat we were梔ifferent. In the years after, I抎 learn just how different my family is. Internationally renowned, instantly recognizable, our everyday activities headlines in the making.
Fame is a strange thing. A powerful thing. Usually it ebbs and flows like a tide. People get swept up in it, swamped by it, but eventually the notoriety recedes, and the former object of its affection is reduced to someone who used to be someone, but isn抰 anymore.