Epilogue One

Epilogue One

MATILDA

“Ssshhh.” I glare at my husband of three and a half months as he clanks around in the kitchen.

“Leave them alone, baby girl.” He growls out the warning when he passes me, where I’m currently spying on my father and a friend I made on the set of my one and only photo shoot that led me right into Big Daddy’s arms all those months ago.

“I can’t.” I blow out the breath I’ve been holding. Gabriella Moore is so shy it hurts, but when she met Dad, she blossomed into this girl I didn’t recognize. I thought it was my imagination or the baby hormones making me delusional, but they hit it off when I introduced them a month ago.

Okay, so hit it off might not be the right phrase. Especially given that I purposefully introduced him as my daddy, and she’s been calling him that ever since. Of course, Big Daddy was pissed when we got home that night, and I let him take it out on my body, which wasn’t a punishment so much as a reward. Don’t tell him I said that; he’d take it as a challenge.

Dad claims to hate when she calls him that, but Big Daddy informed me he’s just really having trouble with the age. Gabriella only just turned eighteen last week. They’ve been fighting the attraction since meeting, but I can tell my dad’s resolve is waning big time because right now, he’s touching her.

Spinning around, I hide a giggle behind my hand. “I think I’m done now.” Big Daddy rolls his eyes at me while pulling me in for a smoldering kiss. Searing me right down to my toes.

“He’s taking her home tonight,” he informs me, like they have some telepathic link. Given how they sometimes communicate without saying a word, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. “Now, how’s my little bun in this sexy oven?” His large hand envelops my still-flat stomach, and I love it.

“Hungry.” And on cue, my stomach growls.

He frowns. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? I’d have given you a snack.” I love that he takes care of me so well. Picking me up, he puts me on the counter and rummages through the fridge for the strawberry and chicken salad I’ve been addicted to since my first craving.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I flutter my lashes up at him as he hands me the container and a fork. Ever since I announced how much I loved this salad, he’s been sure to have at least a dozen premade containers in the fridge at all times.

“Anything for you, baby girl.”

Munching on a piece of crunchy lettuce and succulent chicken, I swallow before teasing, “With the way this nugget has me eating, it must be a boy.” He grins with pride like I knew he would. “Only boys can possibly eat this much.” He shrugs.

“You’re packing it away pretty good, and you’re a girl,” he points out, earning a glare, which only makes him laugh, and I melt at the rich sound.

Big Daddy laughs more now than when we first met. He stays around Jacksonville more now, too. Instead of hauling trailers across state lines, he barely leaves the city limits. Always wanting to be close in case I need him.

In the beginning, he took a couple of out-of-state jobs. I went with him, of course, because he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving me behind, and I had no desire to be separated from him.

The trips were fun and exciting; I got to see some of Texas and Louisiana. We went to Alabama once, too. But after we found out I was expecting, he put a stop to it. Life on the road was too dangerous while I was carrying a baby. Or so he said. I’m just happy to have him home and in bed every night.

“Drink this.” He hands me a glass of milk, and I do as requested.

Spreading my legs, he steps in closer. I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my chin for a kiss. Of course, he obliges; he’d never deny me. It’s short and sweet, and everything perfect about him.

“Thank you for always taking care of me, Daddy.” I’m emotional as I say the words because on the night I met him, I had been so frustrated with every point of my life, and I never believed I would have this kind of relationship with a man. Let alone one who loved me so obsessively.

“It’s my pleasure.” He strokes his thumb across my cheek, and I recognize just how serious he is when he says that because I know how much pleasure he gets from caring for me.

The timer dings, and I watch him as he turns to take the lasagna out of the oven and slip the garlic bread in. My stomach rumbles again, the aromas making me feel like I haven’t eaten in a month. There is nothing my husband can’t do, and he tends to my every whim.

His take-charge attitude is what led to our wedding happening only two weeks after I proposed to him. It led to him deciding on the invite list as well. Which did not include my mother because I started having panic attacks at the thought of seeing the woman. We did send her an announcement card afterwards but never heard from her. I didn’t expect to, and I’m unsure if it stings or not, but I refuse to let it bring me down.

I have my husband, our soon-to-be baby, my dad, and what I hope will be his other half because Gabriella is incredible, and I find that’s all I truly need. It’s all I want.