It’s more than I could have dreamed of, probably because men like Cullen are a rare breed and I’m not going to let my man get away. I want the happily ever after that Cullen is so willing to give me.
My life has always consisted of recipes and Cullen is the ingredient that has always been missing.
Epilogue
Cullen
A year later
“Cullen! The baby Star pooped again and the cake is about ready to come out of the oven,” MJ wails. It was always Star that was pooping. Her twin bother was snoozing away. She was the pooper and he was the sleeper.
I toss the burping cloth into the laundry basket and hurry out to the kitchen. MJ passes baby Star into my arms and turns to stare at the oven door. She’s taken a leave of absence from the restaurant to finally master the art of being a pastry chef. She’s gotten too good at it though and I’ve had to start running an extra couple miles every morning to work off all the desserts I’ve been eating.
“How’s it look?” I ask as I take Star into the living room. We originally set up a nursery station in Luna’s old bedroom, but learned quickly that having diapers in every room was the only way to deal with two six-month-old’s at once who do nothing but eat, poop, and sleep.
“Good, actually. I might actually be able to decorate this one. How’s Star doing?”
“Well, she’s filled her diaper good.” I peel away the soiled cloth. The scent of baby poo drifts into the air. When I first did this, I almost threw up in my mouth at the smell. “This child is made of nothing but breast milk and poop.”
“The poop is breast milk.”
“Okay. Then the baby is made of 90% breast milk and the rest is just skin.”
“You love it,” MJ declares.
I finish wiping Star’s tiny butt and slap on a new diaper. “Yeah? What about it?” Star giggles as I lift her into the air. I nuzzle her bare belly and listen to the giggle turn into a full-on laugh. Fuck, I love this little niece of mine. Her brother was just as cute with his little snores.
“You want one.”
I freeze and then slowly lower Star to the changing mat. “Nah,” I say, striving for a casual tone. MJ told me when we got married she didn’t know if she wanted kids and I completely understood that. She’d spent years raising Luna without any help. I can’t begin to imagine what kind of stress and fear she went through as an eighteen-year-old trying to take care of her little sister in this world. I couldn’t have done it and I have an embarrassing amount of money. “It’s nice being the uncle.” I pull a new nightie over Star’s head and then engage in my regular struggle of capturing Star’s flying fists and pushing them, gently, into the arm holes of the baby gown. “Madd nearly broke down in tears when I said we’d take the twins for the weekend and not because he plans to spend the time fucking Luna. He said he was most excited about sleeping through the night.”
“You’re literally a pile of mush every time Star and Castor are around. You talk to them in that high-pitched baby voice. You can’t stop smiling, even as you’re changing her diaper. You joined a toy of the month club and then complained that you only get one toy for each of them every month because the twins are supposedly bored with them after a few days.”
I shift uncomfortably, tucking Star’s head under my chin. “What’s wrong with thinking that there should be a toy of the day club? That’s just me being a good uncle.” Never, in all the world, would I want MJ to think that I regret marrying her. I don’t. I love her with every atom that makes up my being. I wouldn’t trade a hundred Stars or Castors for one MJ.
MJ slides the cake onto the counter to cool and comes over to sit next to me on the floor. “You are a good uncle.” She reaches over and takes Star out of my arms. I try not to protest, but I suddenly feel empty. “You’d be a better father,” MJ murmurs quietly.
I start to crack another joke when her words hit me. “F-father?” I stutter like a boy.
A smug smile tilts the corners of her mouth up. “You heard me.”
My heart swells, but I push it down. This is MJ trying to make me happy and I am happy. She is the only person I need. “Nah. I don’t want to be up all night dealing with a crying baby. I don’t want to be tied down, not being able to go to a Yankees game because my kid is sick or not being able to jet down to St. Thomas for a weekend when the cold is shriveling my balls.”