Epilogue: Emma

A year and a half later.

Leon's tiny fingers wrap around my thumb as I rock him in the nursery chair. At six months old, he's already the spitting image of his daddy - same green eyes, same determined chin, same way of completely owning my heart.

The clock strikes nine, and I hear the familiar rumble of Max's truck in the driveway. He's late tonight, which usually means it was a rough call. I stay in the nursery, knowing he'll find us here. He always does.

His heavy footsteps on the stairs sound weary. When he appears in the doorway, still in his uniform and smelling faintly of smoke, I can see the exhaustion on his face.

"There's my favorite people," he says softly, a tired smile breaking through the fatigue.

"Rough day?" I whisper, careful not to disturb our finally-sleeping son.

"Lost a house today." He crosses the room, dropping to his knees beside the chair. "Everyone got out safe, but..." He trails off, pressing a gentle kiss to Leon's dark curls.

"But it's still hard," I finish for him. "Want to hold him? He always makes everything better."

Max's eyes light up the way they always do when he looks at Leon.

"Let me shower first. I smell like a chimney."

"Too late." I gesture to our son, who's stirring at the sound of his daddy's voice. "Someone's demanding their father's attention."

"Just like his mama," Max winks, carefully lifting Leon from my arms.

Our baby immediately snuggles into his broad chest, tiny fists grabbing his sooty uniform.

"Great," I laugh. "Now he'll need another bath."

"Worth it." Max bounces gently, and Leon makes that adorable cooing sound that melts us both every time. "How was your day? Did he behave for you?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Refused his morning nap, charm-smiled his way out of trouble, then spent twenty minutes fascinated by his own toes." I stand, stretching. "He's definitely your son."

"Hey! I haven't been fascinated by my toes in at least a week."

I roll my eyes but can't help smiling. Even after an exhausting shift, he still manages to make me laugh.

"Oh!" I remember suddenly. "Watch this."

I make a silly face - the one that always gets him giggling. Sure enough, Leon lets out a belly laugh that fills the whole room.

Max's entire face lights up.

"That's the best sound in the world."

"Better than the station's sirens?"

"Much better." He kisses Leon's chubby cheek. "Though he's about as loud."

As if to prove his point, Leon lets out another shrieking laugh.

"Okay, little man," Max says, "time for bed. Daddy needs a shower and some quality time with Mommy."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Really." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Unless you're too tired..."

"Never too tired for you, Sir Thompson."

"I love it when you call me that."

"I know." I take Leon back, settling him in his crib. "Now go shower while I get him down."

Twenty minutes later, Leon's finally asleep and Max emerges from our bathroom looking more human. His hair's still damp, and he's wearing only sweatpants, giving me a perfect view of the muscles that firefighting keeps well-maintained.

"Better?" I ask from our bed.

"Much." He crawls in beside me, pulling me close. "Though I still can't believe we actually got him to sleep before midnight."

"Don't jinx it," I warn. "Remember last week?"

"When he decided 3 AM was party time? How could I forget?"

I snuggle into his chest, breathing in his clean scent.

"At least he's cute."

"Gets that from you." Max's fingers trail lazy patterns on my back.

"Pretty sure the stubbornness comes from you, though."

"Nope. That's all you, sweetheart."

The baby monitor crackles with Leon's soft breathing, our favorite background noise these days.

"I love you," I murmur against Max's skin. "Even when you come home smelling like a barbecue gone wrong."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"I love you too. Even when you use our son as an excuse to avoid cooking dinner."

"That was one time!"

"Three times this week alone."

"Fine." I prop myself up to look at him. "I'll cook tomorrow. But only because you're such a hero."

His expression softens.

"You're the real hero here. Growing our boy, taking care of him all day, somehow managing to love me through all the crazy hours and emergency calls..."

"Easy to love you," I say simply. "You're kind of perfect."

"Kind of?"

"Well, you do snore..."

He silences me with a kiss, and I melt into it just like I did that first night at the Christmas Festival. Just then, a familiar cry comes through the monitor.

We both groan.

"Your turn," I say.

"My turn? I just got home!"

"Exactly. He missed you."

Max sighs dramatically but gets up, grinning. "The things I do for love."

I watch him pad down the hall to the nursery, already cooing nonsense to Leon. My firefighter and our little spark - everything I never knew I needed until that pregnancy test changed our lives.

"Come on, buddy," I hear Max through the monitor. "Let's let Mama rest. Daddy's got you."

I smile, settling back against the pillows. Yeah, he's definitely got us both.

Thank you for reading it!