I blinked, confused. “Huh?”
Her eyes met mine and she swallowed. “I think my water just broke.”
Thud. My heart leaped in my throat.
“Ready to be a daddy?” my wife asked, smiling.
Fuck no.
But I nodded, nonetheless. Because it didn’t matter if I was ready or not, my son was coming.
Six hours later, Cameron Theodore Spencer made his grand entrance, wailing at the top of his little lungs. Almost like he rejected the idea of being pulled out of his safe and warm cocoon.
Julianna sagged against my chest and I curled my arm around her. “He’s here,” I said to her. “You’re so fucking amazing, Princess.”
I had watched her go through an intense labor in the last six hours and she left me in awe with her strength and perseverance. Fuck, I was madly in love with this woman.
Cameron was still screaming, thrusting his tiny fists into the air. Rani wrapped up my crying son in a yellow blanket, like a burrito, before she placed him in Julianna’s arms.
The moment he was in her arms, his cries quieted down. Cameron blinked up at his mother, mesmerized. He let out a hiccup, his lips pursing as if he was debating if he should cry or just enjoy his mother’s embrace.
Our son.
He had my black hair and nose and…his eyes were grey, like his mother’s.
My wife let out a choked sob, laughing through her tears. “Look at you, my sweet little angel,” she whispered. “So strong and stubborn like your daddy. What am I going to do with the two of you?”
My shoulders shook with silent laughter. “You promised me four more babies.”
Julianna leveled me with a glare. “Two.”
“Four,” I shot back.
Her lips pursed. “Three.”
“Deal.”
Julianna rolled her eyes before passing me our son. I cradled him in my arms, bringing him closer against my chest. We stared at each other, quiet and serious.
My chest tightened with various emotions crashing through me like a wave. But the most prominent feeling was violent protectiveness for my son.
A part of me and a part of Julianna.
I would tear the world down if anything were to happen to him.
“Hello, son.” He hiccupped at my voice, his tiny fists flailing.
My wife leaned into me, letting her head fall on my shoulder.
“Julianna,” I started.
“Hmm.”
My heart thudded in my chest. “We are not Arabella and Elias or Sierra and Jonathan, or Camille and Lucas, or Mackenzie and Elliot.”
The four tragic couple of this cursed castle.
Julianna laced her fingers through mine, squeezing. “Fate had been cruel to us. I made choices that I’ve lived to regret. We both made mistakes. We had to fight for our happily ever after. In the end, I chose you. You chose me.”
“We’re Julianna and Killian, and we deserve our happy ending,” I said to my wife.
This wasn’t a pretty fairy tale.
Our love story was messy and flawed – a twisted tale.
But it was perfect in the most imperfect way.
THE END