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"What could be better than what you just told me?" he murmured against my mouth.
"How about Baker dropping the case?"
"What? That's fantastic!" Twirling me around excitedly a couple of times, he whooped like an overexcited kid before I pounded on his shoulder.
"Oh, right, nausea, sorry," he said, laughing.
"I'll settle for a kiss instead," I told him, and he happily obliged.
We stayed in that moment in each other's arms, absorbed in one another, until we heard a, "Eww, you're kissing, gross," from Wolfie.
"That's right, Wolf-Man. That's what two people do when they're in love with each other," Adam told the boy with a smile.
Wolfie looked between the two of us. "I knew it. Can we eat pizza now?"
I laughed along with Adam as we followed Wolfie into the living room to have our "family dinner."
For the first time ever, I let the fear of rejection go. I let the fear of the future go as I watched these two guys who I loved more than anything in the world. Dr. Adam Rollins had always proven to be a huge pain in my ass, but as we locked eyes, I smiled. He was my pain in the ass, and I loved him for it.
Epilogue: Adam
One year later…
"That's it, buddy, keep your eye on the prize—you got this!" I called from the stands as Wolfie moved the puck with a stick, leading other little boys in the charge.
Reagan had expressed a little bit of concern about Wolfie joining the kids' hockey team, but as we watched our boy skating on the ice and running laps around all the other kids, she was visibly relaxed—something that I was not only grateful for, but I knew our son was also immensely grateful for.
George Julian Rollins had entered the world three months ago, and if I thought I had felt love before, it was nothing compared to holding that baby in my arms and having him look up at me with his mom's bright eyes.
He was a fairly chill baby, which kind of surprised everyone involved, considering who his parents were. Wolfie adored him and loved being a big brother to him, and this kid had everyone wrapped around his little finger. But at the moment, his mother had been rocking him maybe a little too enthusiastically as she watched from the sidelines as Wolfie navigated the ice in his hockey gear.
"It's okay, you can say it," I said to her with a smile.
She rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed breath. "Fine, you were right—he's killing it out there, but I worry it's not the safest of sports."
"It's not like he's in the big leagues. He will be fine." I told her for the umpteenth time.
She shook her head at me and smiled down at our little boy. "Your daddy's right one time, and now, he thinks he's the king of the world."
"Nu-huh, I seem to remember another time I was right about you and me, and that's paid off big time, if I do say so myself," I said, smiling down at my son, cooing at him.
George smiled at me and gurgled.
Reagan looked at me fondly. "All right, you got me there," she admitted.
We cheered on Wolfie for the rest of the game, and then, once the game was done, all of the parents in the stands clapped. We waited for Wolfie to come to find us. He grinned broadly as he climbed the stairs. "Did you see that? I made a goal!"
"We did see that, buddy. It was amazing, great job!" I said, high fiving him.
"Did you ask her yet?" he asked me with excitement.
I looked over furtively at Reagan, who looked at me strangely. "Not yet, buddy," I said behind my hands. "I was waiting for you to be here, remember?"
"Oh, right."
"Are you ready?" I asked him.
"Yup," he said, walking to Reagan and asking, "can I hold George, please?"
