Page 209 of Surprisingly Us

She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down to her. “The best surprise of all.”

Epilogue

RHYS

10 YEARS LATER

Every time Hunter gets a bean bag in the hole, he does a celebration dance. His arms pump overhead in a ‘raise the roof’ motion while his hips seem to be moving to an entirely different rhythm. Neither of them matches the beat of the music playing from the boat house speakers.

“And I thought Emma was uncoordinated.” Griffin laughs.

“Hey! I’ve gotten better at dancing.” Emma pouts from her lounger, but it’s playful.

“Dad,” Poppy plants a hand on her hip and rolls her eyes at Hunter, “please stop doing that. You’re not cool.”

Hunter scoffs. “You have no idea how cool I am. Sweetheart,” he calls to Sophie who’s lounging on a deck chair next to Emma, reading a book, “tell the girls how cool their dad is.”

Sophie looks up from her book and gives him a thumbs up. “So cool, baby, so cool.”

The twins are ten now, tweens, which they despise being called, and one of my favorite past times is to watch them givetheir dad shit. I can’t wait until they’re driving and dating, man, it’s going to be fun to watch.

“Uncle Rhys is cool.” Finley motions to me with one of the bean bags.

“Thanks, Fin.” With my empty hand, I offer her a fist and she bumps me back with hers.

When I turn back to Hunter, I can’t hide my shit-eating grin.

“It’s the tattoos,” he mutters, tossing his bean bag in defeat. “Are we going to finish the game?”

Both girls run off toward the tree house. “Later,” they call in unison.

“Looks like they’re back.” Hunter motions to the group exiting the boat at the dock. Chloe, Barrett, Jerrod, and Corrine took some of the kids on a boat ride earlier. The group makes their way up the beach and onto the lawn.

Cooper and Beckett, Emma and Griffin’s eight- and six-year-old sons, run to tackle their dad.

Griffin scoops each one up and throws them over his shoulder to spin them around until they’re all laughing and he nearly falls over.

“Hey, Jas,” Sophie calls to her six-year-old son, Jasper, who is currently dressed like a pirate. “Will you go grab the snacks Aunt Hannah and I prepared earlier?”

Jasper puts down his sword. “Really? Do I have to?”

“Yes, you need some orange slices or you’ll get scurvy.”

“Ah, Mom. We were just heading over to the treehouse.”

“You mean the pirate ship,” Eliza, Hannah and James’s six-year-old daughter, corrects him.

“We’ve got the snacks.” Hannah calls, coming down the path from the Cartwright house carrying a tray of fruit, while James, Ramsey and Sebastian follow, their arms loaded down with a boatload of snacks.

Corinne’s eyes widen at all the food, but she takes the tray from a very pregnant Hannah to set it on the table nearby.

“Aren’t we having dinner in an hour?” Corinne asks.

Jerrod rubs her back. “You remember that feeding this group is a constant endeavor.”

Jerrod and Corinne are child-free by choice, but they get their fill, and then some, of the wild ride that is parenthood when they hang out with all our children.

“Snacks!” Jasper pulls Bodie, Chloe and Barrett’s seven-year-old son toward the table. “Come on, Bo. Grab what you can and let’s go!” He raises his wooden sword uphill toward the treehouse.

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