Page 55 of A Season Of Sin

And again, when Gracie opens the silver Wolf necklace I bought her, and Jace opens his Wolf ring. If I can’t put a property of patch on their backs, it’s the least I can do—make them wear a piece of me. I also had our initials engraved into the back.

Gracie rests her temple against my shoulder. “Thank you. I love it.”

Pinching her chin, I tip her head back and force her lips to meet mine. “I’m yours. I’m glad you love it.”

Jace twirls the ring around his middle finger and stares at it, pressing against his wedding band. I nudge his leg. “You good?”

He bobs his head. “Yeah. This is… It’s great.”

“It looks good on ya.”

“Yeah. It does. Thank you,” he replies, still staring at the jewelry. I know rings aren’t for everyone, but a big wolf head suits Jace’s thick fingers.

Gracie lays a small blue box on my thigh. “This is the most important gift,” she says, bouncing excitedly as I open the lid to find a black house key. “See. It’s so you can come home anytime.”

Home.

I haven’t had one of those in decades.

Crushing the key in my fist, the teeth bite into my palm as I look at them, really look—Gracie in her adorable pajamas and expectant expression with dark hair spilling over her shoulders, brushing the tops of her tits… tits I’m quite fond of. Sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees, Jace rubs the wolf’s head. His broad back, covered in ink, ripples and flexes as he breathes.

They’re perfect.

So much for puttin’ all those emotions to bed. I clear my throat to keep my shit together, and Jace, bless the man, collects the gift for Gracie from the coffee table and sets it onto her lap. She rips the bright red paper to shreds and opens the white box. Inside is a onesie that says, “My mom handles the snuggles. My dads handle the mayhem.” We had it made by a local woman Jace knows, and I came up with the saying.

Hugging the gift to her chest, Gracie bursts into tears. For half a second, I worry we fucked up and took this plan too far, but when she climbs onto my lap and kisses me, I know all is right in the world—in our world.

This Christmas is the first of many with my new family, with my loves, and my new life, and fuck if I’m not ready for it. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.

Now get the hell outta here and celebrate the holiday with your family. We’ve got a baby to make before Gracie’s sister gets here.

Merry Fuckin’ Christmas.

Epilogue

Next Christmas

Wrapping his arms around me from behind, Wolf cups under my ginormous belly to ease the load. I groan and lean into the relief, using him for support.

“Sweet girl, you need to rest,” he says, kissing my shoulder.

No, I don’t. I can’t rest. I have so much to do. Our baby will be here by the new year. I’m thirty-eight weeks pregnant, and he or she could come any time. The doctor said that since this is my first baby, it’s common to go past my due date, but I’m not taking any chances. Plus, it’s Christmas—our last one before we become parents.

My sister, carrying a plate of fresh cookies, passes us in the kitchen and heads for the living room. “If you come sit down, I’ll feed you cookies,” she calls over her shoulder, knowing sweets—chocolate, especially—are my pregnancy kryptonite.

Jace chuckles from the stove, where he’s cooking our Christmas dinner, which I’m prohibited from helping with, since my ankles look like ham hocks.

Newsflash: Pregnancy is not for the weak. It makes you ache everywhere, pee nonstop, crave the wildest food combinations, and waddle like a penguin, but apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment because I love it. Even if feeling our baby move seems a bit like I’m the protagonist of an alien movie, pumped full of hormones that make me happy to carry my parasite.

Walking me forward, Wolf carries our child to my sister, where he deposits me next to her on the couch. Before I can complain, she shoves a cookie in my mouth. It has a giant purple dong. I sputter at the intrusion, but eat it anyway as Wolf laughs and sits on the coffee table in front of me. He lifts one of my feet into his lap and rubs the swollen balloons as I swallow the sugary dong.

“Was this your doing again?” I tease, showing Wolf what’s left of his masterpiece.

He grins so stupidly sexy with a naughty twinkle in his eye that I wanna jump his bones, but he still doesn’t confess to the phallic cookie. Thankfully, I know better. He’s my baking boyfriend. We’ve baked together all year long when he’s home. Our social media followers love watching us try new recipes. The more elaborate, the better. That usually means more fuckups, and for some reason, they love our flops almost as much as our wins. Plus, we make bank if he’s shirtless, showing off all those delicious tattoos. My guys are serious eye candy, and they own it. It doesn’t hurt that they’re gym bros, even more so now than before. Their physiques, while mine has gotten less flattering, theirs have gotten even more ripped. They’ve turned working out into their weekly boyfriend dates—visit the gym, sauna, shower, snag a coffee, and bring me home dessert. That is one of the many throuple kinks we’ve had to work out along the way, and by kinks, I don’t mean naughty, so get your dirty mind out of the gutter. It’s a balancing act between jobs, dates, and private time. Wolf and I have more dates at home, while Jace and I have ours out on the town. Finding what works has been a ton of trial and error.

Fitting our lives together started with finding a bed that fit us all. Given my and Jace's size, our king wasn’t cutting it unless we all slept on our sides and squeezed in like a can of sardines. We made it work for a month, but eventually upgraded when Wolf was out on a run. He was excited to christen our new edition when he got home. We’re pretty sure that’s the night I conceived our little one.

“I really like the new nursery,” Harmony comments, tearing me from my musings.