Epilogue

11 years later

Quinn glanced up at the clock. Shit! She’d thought she had everything organized, but with all the beautiful chaos of the morning, she’d fallen behind on her preparations. While Rio had done most of the cooking the day before, Quinn had insisted on making a few things. After all, this would mark their first time hosting this major holiday.

In the past, their home had been the central location for all the summer holidays, given their backyard resembled a child’s paradise of everything one could imagine. Between the pool with two slides, tennis and volleyball courts, sandpit, mutli-level playset, two trampolines, and the most recent addition, a tree house. But it wasn’t just any old tree fort. It was a two story, mini house built around a tree in the yard, boasting a ladder and staircase, wrap around porch, and a mini fridge.

Who the heck would add electricity to a children’s tree house? My husband.

The boys had been so excited when they’d started construction on it a few months back. However, there’d been some slight disappointment when the final project was unveiled. It was a tree house that resembled a castle, fit for a princess.

Quinn was mixing the dough for the bread when she heard his heavy footsteps. Even in a busy household of three children, two being eight and six year old rambunctious boys, Rogue was always the loudest of them all. He walked through the doorway, freshly showered and clean shaven. This view never got old.

“Want some coffee?” Quinn asked.

Rogue glanced over, scowling. Quinn flattened her lips, fighting a smile. She’d learned long ago Rogue was not a morning person. That hadn’t changed.

“What I want is three more fucking hours of sleep.”

Merry Christmas, Rogue.

Rogue pressed his hands against the counter across from her and narrowed his gaze to a sharp glare. “Five thirty in the fucking morning?”

Quinn tried to control her amusement, she really did. But this was the same conversation they’d had every Christmas morning for the last several years. As soon as their oldest son was old enough to really understand Christmas, he was knocking on their bedroom door well before they were ready to get up. After two years of waking up at five, Rogue had put his foot down.

Seven o’clock and not a minute earlier. That rule was firmly enforced until about two years ago. Quinn couldn’t be sure which of their sons had come up with the idea of using their secret weapon, but it was a brilliant plan. And for the last two years, they’d been victorious in getting Quinn and Rogue out of bed by five thirty.

Their weapon of choice was a two foot tall, dark haired, green eyed three-year-old beauty, the new princess of the family, and Rogue’s kryptonite.

“Telling you now, we’re not fucking doing this next year.”

Quinn knew exactly what he meant, but she never gave up an opportunity to poke the bear.

“Christmas?”

Rogue narrowed his gaze as he made his way to the coffee maker. “You know what I fucking mean.”

Yes, I do.

Quinn’s lips twitched, and she shrugged, focusing on her dough. But she couldn’t resist just one more dig.

“I was fully prepared to tell Stacia she had to wait. As I recall, you were the one that gave in to her,” Quinn said then muttered, “Like always.”

Rogue sharpened his gaze, staring her down. Quinn arched her brow, challenging him. This was one argument he wouldn’t win. I have the undisputable truth on my side, Rogue.

Rogue pushed off the counter and stalked around, coming up behind her. He grabbed her hips, pulling her against him.

“That’s a smart fucking mouth you got.”

Quinn turned her head, glancing up at her husband. They’d just celebrated their anniversary. A five-day getaway to Maui. They’d barely left their room. It had been perfect.

“I learned from the best.”

Rogue slid his hand up her chest, skimmed her breast, grasped her throat, and kissed her. She melted into his chest and slipped her tongue past his lips. In a house with three kids, privacy was a precious commodity. One they rarely got outside of their bedroom. Quinn would take every advantage of this opportunity. She turned in his arms, never breaking from the kiss, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Rogue deepened the kiss, holding her tight against him.

Quinn was mentally calculating the time between now and when guests would arrive. It would be tight, but she was willing to chance it and sneak away upstairs with Rogue. She was about to break from the kiss and suggest the plan when Rogue stilled. She opened her eyes and saw him looking past her to the other side of the room. Quinn glanced over her shoulder and pressed her lips together.

Anastacia, the baby of their little family, was standing in the middle of the kitchen, still in her nightgown, hair disheveled, and clutching tightly to the leash of her stuffed dog. It wasn’t an extravagant gift, but it was definitely her favorite.

Rogue stepped back and walked to the coffee maker.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

Anastacia shook her head, her hair flying in her face as she started toward her dad. She was looking behind her as she dragged the stuffed dog. “Come, Poppy. Time for eat.”

Quinn had a million things to do, but none of them mattered more than watching her three-year-old daughter following her dad to the kitchen table, dragging her fake puppy behind her.

It hadn’t been on her Christmas list. In fact, there had been only one gift her daughter wanted, and she’d told anyone and everyone. A puppy that fits in the palm of my hand. Quinn had discussed it with Rogue but ultimately made the decision to wait on getting a dog until she was a bit older and could handle the responsibility. Rogue agreed. When Quinn had seen the stuffed dog in the store, she’d figured it was an adequate compromise.

Quinn continued making the bread and eyeing the clock while stealing glances at Rogue and Anastacia at the table. Rio had prepared some fruit, muffins, and bagels for Christmas morning, and she’d set it up for the kids to eat at their leisure. There was too much excitement to try and wrangle them all for a formal breakfast.

Rogue made his daughter a plate and set it down in front of the seat next to him. But Anastacia climbed on his lap and dragged the plate over. Daddy’s girl. Very few got to see this side of Rogue. While she was sure many had their doubts, he was an amazing father.

Rogue sipped his coffee and gestured to the dog. “You like that?”

Anastacia was chewing a piece of muffin, and her words were jumbled, “Yes. But he’s not real.”

Rogue raised his brows. “That’s the best kind of dog. He won’t shed his hair, doesn’t bark all night, and you don’t have to clean up his sh—”

Quinn gasped and blurted. “Rogue!”

Rogue hadn’t curbed his cursing, but he usually refrained from using it in front of the kids, especially Anastacia.

His lips twitched, and he ignored Quinn, angling his head and staring down at their daughter.

“Hold out your hands.”

Anastacia dropped her muffin on the plate and wiped her hands on her nightgown. Then she held up her hands, palms facing up. Rogue leaned across the table, grabbed the dog, and placed it in her hands. It was bigger than her hands put together, but it was the smallest Quinn could find.

“What did you tell me you wanted?” Rogue asked.

“A puppy that fits in the palm of my hands.”

“Yeah, and you got that.”

Anastacia pouted, staring at her hands, but didn’t disagree. She slowly nodded, hugged the dog to her chest, and curled against Rogue. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, giving her a kiss.

Anastacia may not have appreciated it now, but this was a life lesson. She wouldn’t always get what she wanted. It was important she be thankful for what she had.

Rogue grabbed his coffee, took a sip, and glanced over at Quinn.

“I love you,” she whispered, but he read her lips.

“And I fucking love you,” he mouthed.

Quinn suppressed her chuckle and continued making the bread. This was going to be a memorable Christmas with all her family.

****

Rogue walked into his office, heading straight to the bar set up in the corner of the room. It was a little after two in the afternoon, and guests would be arriving soon. Fucking guests.

Quinn hadn’t shared the exact number, but he’d seen the dining table set up with at least twenty-five place settings. I don’t even fucking like twenty-five people. It was probably a smart move on his wife’s part not mentioning the guest list. It’s gonna fucking piss me off. Just the thought had Rogue smirking as he sipped his drink. No one knew him better than Quinn.

The sharp knock on the door was a mere formality. When Rogue turned, Oz was halfway across the room heading straight to the bar, and a mini-replica of his brother was walking toward him.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Rogue.”

Uncle Rogue. Who would’ve fucking thought? The oldest of all their kids and the only one for Oz. The women had tried their best to have all the kids use Rogue and Oz’s formal names. It never stuck. They would always be Uncle Rogue and Uncle Oz. And of course, Uncle Trey.

Rogue grasped Luka on the shoulder. “You good?”

Luka straightened with a sharp nod.

“Get everything you wanted?”

Luka flattened his lips and shrugged. “Almost.”

Rogue raised his brows. “Yeah?”

“There were two games on my list I didn’t get, but I’ve been saving up. I should have enough in a few months.”

Rogue resisted the urge to scoff. Keep your money, kid . Those games were currently wrapped under his tree. Oz was adamant about not spoiling Luka. He’d give his son a lot but not everything. Luka would have to work for it. But not those fucking games.

“The boys are upstairs,” Rogue said, and before he could blink, Luka was out of his office.

Rogue stifled his yawn and rolled his shoulders, desperate for those three hours of sleep he’d missed. It wouldn’t happen. Welcome to fucking fatherhood.

For all his grumblings, Rogue found peace in being a dad. And with Quinn. He couldn’t rewrite his own history, but he could shape their future. He looked across the room to find Oz at the window, staring out into the yard. Rogue knew what he was looking at. It was impossible to miss. The tree house castle was over the top. Rogue walked over, standing beside his brother.

“You get it?”

Oz glanced over. “Yes, I got it. And if Quinn asks, I had no part in it.”

Rogue snorted, shaking his head. His wife wouldn’t be happy, but he’d deal with that later.

“I don’t suggest you wait.” Oz cocked his brow.

It was good advice he was going to take. Rogue refilled his glass, topped off Oz’s, and they walked out into the hall, passing the dining room.

“How many people did she invite?”

“I don’t know, but I’m telling you now—any of those fuckers from East show up, they ain’t coming in.”

Rogue walked into the living room with Oz. The boys were huddled on the leather couch, Rogue’s sons on either side of Luka watching him play a game on his system. Admittedly, his boys had a bit of hero worship for their oldest cousin. Trey’s boys were the same. A second generation. Their legacy.

There were a few people noticeably absent. As if she’d read his mind, Quinn straightened in her seat. “Dahlia called. Her, Trey, and the kids are on their way. They should be here in thirty minutes.”

“And my wife?” Oz asked.

Quinn smiled, pointing across the room. “In the kitchen. She’s putting the final touches on her dish.”

“Ah, fuck,” Rogue snapped, which earned him a disapproving glare from Quinn and a warning from Oz.

“You will eat whatever she’s prepared. Non-fucking-negotiable, Rogue. We clear?”

Fucking crystal, Oz. It wasn’t anything personal against his sister-in-law. Outside of the kitchen, he actually enjoyed her. And Rogue couldn’t say that about many people, but Oz’s wife was different. But a lousy fucking cook.

Rogue was about to walk over to Quinn when the flickering of the candle caught his attention. On the mantle near the Christmas tree, one single candle was lit illuminating a framed picture. It was tradition. Rogue’s least favorite. Dahlia had started it after Sal’s passing. It was a way of keeping his presence with them on the holiday, she said. Rogue didn’t need a candle or a picture. Sal would always be a part of him.

He cupped his mouth staring at the photo. This was more for everyone else, especially the women and kids. For that reason alone, he never complained. Oz grasped his shoulder in a tight squeeze before walking past him and taking a seat in the chair across from the couch.

They may be unconventional, but they were very much a family.

Rogue was walking through the room when he noticed Anastacia petting her stuffed dog, then pointing with a commanding but sweet voice, “Stay, Poppy.”

He glanced over at Quinn, but her gaze was locked on their daughter with a soft sweet smile. It was the same look she had when looking at any of their children.

I’m about to fucking piss you off, Princess. Rogue drew in a breath and looked over at Oz, who obviously had been watching him. Oz lifted his chin to the box in the corner, near the Christmas tree.

He grabbed the box and walked over to the small sofa, setting it down beside him.

“Stacia,” he called, and she immediately spun around. He lifted his fingers, calling her over, and she scrambled to stand, abandoning her stuffed dog. It was as if she knew.

Rogue could feel Quinn staring, but ignored everyone in the room, smiling down at his daughter standing in front of him. The littlest princess. The boys had favored his side but Anastacia was all Quinn.

“Put out your hands and close your eyes.”

Anastacia immediately put out her hands, palms up, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Rogue reached in the box and lifted the small black and gray puppy, placing it in her hands. He kept hold of it, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold it all on her own. Her eyes shot open, and her jaw dropped, yet still forming the biggest smile.

“He fits in the palm of my hands!”

Barely . Anastacia wrapped her hands around him and hugged the puppy to her chest. By this time, the boys had abandoned the game and were crowding around his little girl. They moved to the middle of the room and all of them got down on the floor.

He glanced over at Quinn who knitted her brows. They had discussed it. They had agreed to wait. Yeah, I fucking know, Princess .

Quinn shook her head and rolled her eyes, but he caught a small smile when she looked down at their daughter.

“What are you going to name him?” Luka asked.

“Poppy.”

“No.” Rogue’s eldest shook his head. “You need a cooler name than that. What about Zeus?”

His younger son piped in, “Or Thor?”

Anastacia looked down at the puppy nipping at her dress. “No, his name is Poppy.”

That’s my girl.

Quinn sat next to him, and he immediately wrapped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer to his side.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Rogue glanced down and furrowed his brows. Gratitude was the last thing he’d expected to hear. They’d talked about getting another dog, and it was Quinn who was adamantly against it. She wanted to wait until Stacia was a little older. Her reasoning was well thought out and responsible. But in true Rogue fashion, he did what he wanted.

“Thanking me for a dog you didn’t want?”

Her lips twitched, and her gaze was locked on their little girl in the center of the room playing with her new puppy. Quinn shook her head, and he noticed her eyes well.

“Then what the fuck are you thanking me for?”

Quinn glanced up at him with a soft smile.

“For this life we have.” Quinn leaned closer, whispering in his ear. “It’s perfect.”

Yeah, fucking perfect.

The End