Page 269

Epilogue

One year later

Our baby boy, Theo Jack Ashford, is eight months old and currently trying to eat a wooden spoon.

He was born in August after a thirty-five-hour labor that I remind Dean of whenever he annoys me.

Which is often.

“Theo.” I reach across the kitchen island. “The spoon is not food.”

He stares directly at me and continues chewing.

I hold out my hand. “Give it to Mama.”

Theo grins around the spoon.

I sigh. “Your father’s genes are showing.”

From the other side of the kitchen, Dean looks up from where he’s making coffee.

“Don’t blame me.”

“I’m absolutely blaming you.”

Dean walks over, takes the spoon from Theo’s hands and replaces it with the teething toy sitting directly beside him.

Theo immediately throws it onto the floor.

Dean looks down at the toy, then at our son.

“You’re an asshole,” he mutters.

“Dean,” I warn, trying not to laugh.

“What?” He points at Theo. “He is.”

Theo squeals like he agrees.

Aspen comes running into the kitchen. “Dad! You can’t call babies assholes.”

“Thank you, Pen,” I tell her.

Dean looks at his daughter. “You called your brother annoying yesterday.”

“That’s different,” Aspen replies.

“How?”

She pauses to consider it before shrugging. “Because I’m his sister.”

A laugh bursts out of me.

Dean nods slowly. “Solid argument.”

Aspen walks over and kisses Theo on the head. “Morning, Theo.”

He immediately reaches for her hair.