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“Welcome to the family, son,” I heard Dad tell my groom.
“Th-thank you, sir,” Barrick choked out.
As they pulled apart, Dad picked up my hand again and placed it in Barrick’s. “I’m not giving this girl away,” he announced in a voice that only slightly quavered, reminding me a little of when Uncle Jesse has done the same with Lucy. “She will always be mine and her mother’s. But now, we take Barrick into our family—with open arms. We welcome him as one of our own. Now and always.”
Somehow, we made it through the vows while still crying. If it weren’t for the smiles on our faces, a stranger might have thought we were being tortured from how hard we sobbed at times. But then the officiant pronounced us husband and wife, and Barrick tilted my chin up just enough so he could place a kiss in the center of my forehead.
The breath became trapped in my throat, and I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips on my flesh, his fingertips on my face, the goose bumps that began to pop up and spread along my entire body, making the entire moment almost euphoric. My tears stopped, and all I could do was be thankful that Dad had gone overboard and brought this man into my life.
Epilogue
Nik
I took the pan of lasagna out of the oven, the scents of garlic and herbs filling the entire house. It was one of Emmie’s favorite meals, but she’d called me earlier to say that she had to fly to New York at the last minute for something she couldn’t talk about yet. Whatever it was, she’d taken Rodger with her, as well as Barrick.
She’d promised it wouldn’t take more than a day, two tops, and then she would be home. Whatever was going on, I pitied whoever was on the receiving end of my wife’s ire. With Mia’s due date only a few weeks away, having both Emmie and Barrick traveling was only going to make my baby doll agitated as fuck.
But this was Mia’s first baby, and they tended to come later than expected. She had a full birthing plan, just as Lana had done with every one of her five pregnancies. Mia was having the baby at the best birthing center, with the most competent staff. I knew because Barrick had done a background check on every person who would potentially come into contact with his wife and child.
Unlike Emmie, Mia wasn’t expected to have a C-section. Her hips were a little wider than her mother’s, and the baby wasn’t measuring as big as I would expect, making us all think that Mia was having a girl, not that we could be one hundred percent sure of that. They hadn’t done a gender reveal, wanting to be surprised, and we’d respected that. For her baby shower, everyone had bought gender-neutral items, and the expectant parents had decorated the nursery in the same way.
My phone pinged with a text. Picking it up, I expected it to be Jagger telling me he was spending the weekend with Cannon in Santa Monica, like every other weekend. Instead, I saw Mia’s name on the screen.
Mia: Daddy!
I didn’t immediately tense when I saw the exclamation mark. Mia got a little overexcited with her punctuation all the time.
Me: What’s wrong, baby girl?
Mia: Barrick had to go with Momma to New York.
Me: I know. She called me about an hour ago.
Mia: They’re already in the air. Barrick’s phone is off.
My muscles slowly began to tense, just a little. She wasn’t jumping straight to the point, but instead was rambling. In text. That told me she was nervous.
Me: Is everything okay?
There wasn’t an immediate reply, so I sent another.
Me: You seem upset.
Mia: My water just broke.
Me: Fu…ck.
I didn’t realize my finger hit the voice-to-text option until the message was already sent. Sighing, I started typing, hoping not to freak her out—even though I was already beginning to panic.
A lot.
Me: Okay. Don’t worry. Daddy is here. Where are you?
Mia: Home.
Anxiety and nausea lifted into the back of my throat. This wasn’t good. She wasn’t supposed to have the baby for another three weeks, at the least. If anything, we’d expected her to go longer since the baby wasn’t so big that she was too terribly miserable yet. Emmie and Barrick were supposed to be home when this happened.
My wife was supposed to be here, damn it.
