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I cupped her face in my palms and gazed into her bright, beautiful eyes. “You’re marrying me on Saturday, sunshine. No matter what happens with the bet, I’ll win because you’ll be my wife.”
Jenna melted into me, and I wrapped her in my arms before lying back on the bed and pulling the covers over us. I was content to hold her and dream about our future.
“You cheated!” my wife exclaimed after I kissed her breathless when the ceremony was done.
I shrugged. “I never claimed I’d fight fair,” I drawled as we walked over to our small group of friends and family who’d come to the wedding.
“Good grief. You and Justice must be cut from the same cloth,” Blaire muttered before giving Jenna a hug. “Congratulations, sweetie.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Jenna beamed.
Then she gave me a hug before I shook hands with Justice. “Wish I’d thought of that,” he mumbled begrudgingly.
“It’s not like you didn’t end up with me as your wife,” Blaire said dryly.
Justice grinned and slipped his arm around her waist. “True.”
Jenna was passed around to her sister and brothers, then I introduced her to my parents and brother. I promised my family that I’d bring her over soon, then I whisked my wife away to The Plaza for our wedding night.
She snuggled up to me in the cab, and after a period of comfortable silence, she looked up at me warily and asked, “So…how many kids are you planning on making me pop out?”
I grinned and kissed her before answering. “I’ll let you know when I decide.”
EPILOGUE
JENNA
People always liked to tell me how similar I was to my mom. So I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when I fell for Chase as quickly as she did with my dad. Or that I was the same age as she’d been when she got married—practically down to the day. And after technically not being proposed to since we’d both been presented with a ring without my dad or Chase actually popping the question. So I would have a matching story to pass down to my children about our engagement.
But the similarities went too far when I realized that I had gotten pregnant with my first two babies almost as quickly as she had. Zade would barely be a year old when I had the one I was carrying now.
Something unique to me, though, was that I only knew I was knocked up again because my husband pointed it out to me. A-freaking-gain.
“There better not be twins in there,” I grumbled as I pointed at my stomach. With all the similarities to my mom, I couldn’t help but worry that I was carrying two babies this time around, just like she had during her second pregnancy with Dani and me.
“Sorry, but I can’t guarantee that you’re not.” Chase brushed his lips against the top of my head as he pulled me close. “It’s too soon to tell, sunshine.”
I let out a little huff. “But not too early for you to notice I’m pregnant.”
“Only because you came while I helped drain some milk so you weren’t sore with Zade sleeping through the night for the first time.” His thumb stroked over my nipple, making it pebble as a sensual shiver raced down my spine. “Your tits are an excellent barometer with how sensitive they get in the first trimester.”
Twining my arms around his neck, I smiled up at him. “I love it when you sound all doctory and dirty at the same time. Your brain is just as sexy as your body.”
“Would it make you feel any better to know that there is no established connection between genetics and monozygotic twinning?” he asked with a smirk.
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Now you’re just showing off.”
“Gotta keep my sunshine happy,” he murmured, his hand dropping to my stomach. “Especially since you’re pregnant again.”
Another way that I was similar to my mom was that I married a man who had no problem showing exactly how much he loved me. In the year that we’d been together—and the weeks after we met but before he claimed me—Chase had made so many changes to his life because he wanted to be a good husband.
We had the perfect home for our growing family, which he had practically plucked from my dreams. He had cut back on his hospital hours to ensure he was here for me whenever I needed him. And he also gave me as many orgasms as I asked for—and then some.
“You always take such good care of me.” Staring up at him, I caught an odd gleam in his chocolate brown orbs. My eyes narrowed as I muttered, “But why do I have the feeling you’re holding something back in an attempt to keep me happy?”
Grimacing, he admitted, “Because dizygotic twins are hereditary.”
“Ugh,” I groaned, dropping my head against his broad chest. “How hereditary?”
