Epilogue

“Here, let me help you.”

Lana is bursting at the seams. Four days overdue with her second child, and she’s become a miserable beast. I shouldn’t use the word beast, after all, she is my best friend. An overly hormonal loose cannon would be more precise.

Sebastian has raced to be by her side, latching onto her arm to help her off the sofa.

“Princess, how about I get that drink for you?”

“I think you’ve done enough,” she snarls.

Olly is in the kitchen, eyes wide and hiding from Lana. He isn’t a fan of cooking but smartly offered to prepare the salad and garlic bread to avoid her.

Poor Sebastian, I will give credit where credit is due. He has been taking care of Ace, doing everything he can for Lana to make her comfortable, yet this baby is refusing to come out.

Escaping to the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of iced tea. Lana is a ticking timebomb.

I lean in to whisper to Oliver. “Was I this bad when Maverick was born?”

“You had your moments…”

I playfully punch him in the arm. Though, truthfully, Olly had the patience of a saint when I was pregnant.

“She looks miserable.”

“Any day now,” he says, chopping up the cucumber. “Seb and I have a bet running.”

“What... that’s awful,” I scold him. “Lana’s about to give birth. This is an important moment. No bets should be placed on?—”

“I want in,” Lana shouts from the sofa. “How much?”

Sebastian sighs. “Princess, I hardly think?—”

“One hundred bucks buy-in,” Olly states, wiping his hands on the dishtowel. “I’ve locked in Friday.”

“And you?” Lana stares at Sebastian with a less-than-enthused expression. “The instigator of all this madness.”

Sebastian scratches the back of his neck, torn between participating or keeping his mouth shut. “I’ve locked in Thursday.”

“Fine, I’ll take tomorrow,” Lana agrees, rubbing her stomach.

“Well, fine.” I throw my hands up in the air. “If you’re all playing, I’m in. I’m locking in tonight.”

There’s a hush over the room. Sebastian closes his eyes as if he’s saying a silent prayer. Lana shakes her head, shrugging off the notion.

“That’s a mighty big bet, Gabs.”

“Look at her,” I tell hem. Everyone turns around to look at Lana. “Her stomach has dropped, it’s almost touching her goddamn knees. She cleaned our pantry and even labeled all of the containers with color-coded stickers and stocked them in alphabetical order.”

“So, I like things in order,” Lana exhales.

“And you keep asking Sebastian to rub your lower back because your back pain is intolerable.”

Olly raises his hand, quick to command the room.

“We’re all locked in,” he informs us. “Now, let’s have dinner, and for Christ’s sake, Lana, keep your legs shut till Friday.”

Olly lifts Maverick onto his lap as he attempts to eat his spaghetti bolognese. Ace sits beside him, infatuated with Maverick’s chubby little feet.

I serve myself a plate and welcome the glass of wine since I stopped breastfeeding months ago. Boy, did I miss the simple things.

Maverick Miles Madden is exactly five months and three days old. Our wicked week of making up resulted in me getting pregnant straightaway. To say we were shocked would have been an understatement.

At the time, I argued science and swore you could get pregnant doing anal. I blamed Olly’s radioactive sperm with supernatural powers fighting through my diaphragm. It took us days to wrap the pregnancy around our heads until our first ultrasound when it finally sunk in.

We couldn’t haven’t asked for a more precious baby. Maverick has everyone wrapped around his chubby little fingers. He’s the spitting image of Olly—nothing at all like me.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The pregnancy, and the birth, meant we had to put off the wedding. Between Olly playing soccer, sorting out our visas so we could live in both the States and Australia, plus working with Sebastian on setting up the youth soccer academy, there was time for little else. I enjoy telling people I’m technically still on the market just to rile up a reaction from him.

Olly’s phone on the counter begins to chime, and quickly, he passes Maverick over to me.

“Hello, Oliver speaking,” he says, walking out of the room to take the call.

Sebastian places his fork down at the same time Bubbles hops into the room and rubs his body against Sebastian’s chair.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help with the fundraiser next week?” he asks, rubbing behind Bubbles’ ear. “And I’m almost done with interviewing the summer coaches.”

I swallow the piece of bread I’m eating, balancing Maverick on one knee. “All under control. You just go have a baby.”

Lana huffs. “Yeah… Sebastian is going to be so busy.”

We chat for a little while longer until Olly walks back into the room. His expression is blanching, almost pale. Rubbing his arms absently, he sits at the table in utter silence.

Worried, I place my hand on his. “Olly, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been asked to attend a meeting here in LA…” he trails off in a neutral tone. “They’re offering me a deal to play for major league soccer.”

Sebastian scrapes his chair along the floor, jumping up. “Mate! This is fucking amazing!”

“Sebastian, language,” Lana scolds. “Olly, what does this mean?

“It means they want me to play in the midfield. They’re offering me a three-year contract.” A smile finally plays on his lips, reality starting to kick in. “I’ve dreamed of playing major league soccer for such a long time, but?—”

“But nothing.” I place my hand on his, squeezing it tight. “I’m so proud of you. Where do you need us and when?”

Sebastian laughs as if he’s in on the private joke.

Damn these boys and their soccer knowledge.

“Here.” Olly grins. “The home ground is thirty minutes away.”

With Maverick on my lap, I lean as close as possible to squeeze into Olly’s embrace. This is such amazing news. At times, the traveling back and forth from Australia has proved exhausting. Knowing we can spend more time in the States has lifted my mood.

Sebastian brings a bottle of scotch to the table. “This calls for a celebration.”

Lana’s face widens in shock, her hands instantly clutching her stomach.

“Holy shit… it’s time.”

“Time for what?” Sebastian asks, oblivious to his wife and still pouring the scotch.

Upon glancing down, her leggings are soaked.

“My water just broke.”

We still our movements. Even Bubbles stops chomping his big rabbit teeth.

Sebastian races next door to grab Lana’s bag while Olly loads Lana into the van. I stay behind with Maverick and Ace, panicking as the memory of giving birth comes crashing like torrential waves.

I’m panicking, the thought of it all just too fresh. Unknowingly, I squeeze my legs shut, remembering the moment like it happened yesterday.

When everyone is in the car, I head outside. I reassure Lana that Ace will be fine with us for as long as we need to take care of him while she goes and has the baby. I go as far as to let her know Bubbles is even welcomed to stay over.

After the rush of getting her to the hospital, Olly collapses on the sofa, and I fall beside him. The two of us watch Ace sit beside Maverick who’s propped up in his little baby chair. He runs his monster trucks in front of him, goading a spurt of giggles as he makes loud noises.

“I wish I had a brother. My sisters were too feminine and made me dress up in ballerina clothes.” Olly sighs.

I cover my mouth, hiding my laughter. “I know, Matilda showed me the picture. Pink really goes well with your skin tone.”

“Seriously, emancipation looks really good right now.”

We continue to watch them until I try to remember the date, so I can note it as baby number two’s birthday. Lana and Sebastian chose not to find out the sex of their baby. The harder I try to remember and count, a sinking feeling begins to creep in.

“Oh my God.” I jump off the sofa, racing toward the kitchen. The calendar is stuck to the refrigerator. My hands glide across it, counting the days.

“What’s wrong?” Olly yells from the sofa.

I shake my head, fighting off the distraction. “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five?—”

“Okay, I think I know how to count,” Olly complains.

My eyes widen in shock, my head shaking as I struggle to say the words.

“I’m seven days late.”

Olly jumps from the sofa. “No…”

The adrenaline floods my system like it’s on an intravenous drip. My eyes stare widely at the calendar counting once again to prove my counting skills are wrong. Still thirty-five. My heart is ready to explode, yet I’m completely frozen to the spot.

“Come with me, quick.” Oliver pulls me into the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind us. He rips my blouse open and unlatches my bra.

“This is hardly the moment to have sex, the kids?—”

“You’re pregnant.”

“You’re trying to have sex with me?” I scold.

“I know your body with my eyes closed. The swell of your breasts.” He turns me around to face the mirror so I can see my reflection. Olly stands behind me, guiding his hand slowly beneath my breasts. They’re engorged. I hadn’t even noticed. “Baby, you’re expecting.”

“I’m pregnant…”

I hold onto the basin, desperately trying to control my breathing, but the panic attacks are coming hard and fast. The room is incredibly hot as Olly rubs the small of my back.

“Do you know what this means?” The surge of happiness consumes him as he turns me back around, his eyes shining with hope.

“No more sleep?”

I button my blouse on the verge of tears. I think I have it together until a lonesome one escapes, and the floodgates officially open.

His smile fades but still lingers only slightly. “Why are you crying?”

I shake my head. “Because two under two? I can’t do this.”

“There’s no I in team, baby. You don’t have to do anything alone. That’s why I’m here. Our best friends are next door. That’s why Ma and Pa come stay with us, and why Miles and the twins bought that beach house at Laguna Beach. We have the best support network anyone could ask for.”

Olly is right. We have everything we could possibly ask for. And now, we’re expecting another blessing. I smile through my tears, allowing Olly to open the bathroom door so we can go back to the kids.

“So, what does this mean?”

“Soccer team, Gabs!”

I shake my head, not welcoming the thought. “That’s like what, eleven kids? I don’t think so. You’re getting the snip after this.”

In his arrogant triumph, he narrows his beautiful green eyes with his lip tugged upward into a sinister smirk.

“Never, say never, baby.”

The End