Page 71 of Pastel Kisses

Guilt burns in my gut. That’s time we’ll never get back.

But we’ll be here for every second from now on. Every diaper, every feeding, every midnight freakout. She won’t do any of it alone again.

We’re going to be dads.

The thought hits me with full force, crashing over me like a wave of raw, primal emotion. It makes my chest swell with something fierce and protective. A low hum rumbles in my throat and I barely resist the urge to beat my damn chest like a caveman. My baby. Our baby. With the love of our life.

“Here,” I say, opening the folder the doctor gave us and spreading the ultrasound pictures across the table like prized possessions. “He said everything looks perfect.”

Kam picks one up, turning it toward the light. “Eight months… damn. We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

Dan chuckles softly, his fingers tracing the image before passing it along. “That includes me. I’m not missing another heartbeat.”

“Think it’s a boy or a girl?” I ask, squinting at one of the blurry, black-and-white photos like it’ll reveal the answer if I just stare hard enough.

“Boy,” Lennox and Liam say at the exact same time. They blink at each other, then burst out laughing.

Kam grins, flipping one of the images over. “Normally I’d bet against you two, but this right here—” he points to a small protrusion on the print— “looks like a third leg to me.”

I snort. “That’s an arm, dumbass.”

More laughter erupts, followed by a second round of whiskey. We keep passing the photos around, everyone taking their time, smiling a little softer than usual, as if the world’s finally started stitching itself back together.

We talk about nursery ideas, future birthdays, and first steps. Kam’s already planning out how to reinforce the entire property, and Liam’s texting someone about baby-proofing the house. Lennox is making a list of prenatal massage therapists.

And me? I’m picturing Avery with our baby in her arms, the soft glow of motherhood lighting up her face.

It’s late by the time the last glass is empty and the laughter starts to fade. After one final toast to Avery and the baby, we call it a night. Dan gives us a tired smile before heading down the hall to his room—one of the many perks of booking out the entire top floor. Privacy. Security. Peace of mind.

Kam locks up behind him, double-checking everything like the overprotective dad he’s about to be, while the rest of us linger in the living room, the weight of everything that’s happened still heavy on our minds. But there’s lightness too. Hope. Something we haven’t had in a long time.

Lennox throws an arm around Liam’s shoulders, grinning. “I still can’t believe she’s actually here. I thought we lost her.”

“I know,” Liam says, his voice quieter now, more reverent. “And we’re not missing another second.”

“Damn right,” Kam adds, his eyes dark with conviction. “She’s never going through anything alone again. Whatever she needs—we’re it. We’re her whole damn army.”

“And this baby,” I say, holding up the ultrasound picture I couldn’t stop staring at earlier. “We may have missed the start, but we’ll be there for the finish. And every day after.”

Lennox nods, serious for once. “From first cries to first steps. Diapers. Midnight feedings. The works.”

“And she’s not lifting a damn finger when she gets home,” Liam mutters. “We’ll spoil her so much she won’t know what to do with herself.”

I grin at them, heart fuller than it’s been in months. “We’ll make up for lost time. Every damn second.”

We make our way down the hall, the quiet buzz of the hotel fading behind us as we move together toward our room. Every step feels like it carries the weight of months lost—months without her. But now, she’s here. Back where she belongs. And we’re not wasting a single second.

Excitement builds with each step, not just anticipation for sleep, but for what it means. Crawling into bed with Avery for the first time in what feels like forever—it’s not just comforting, it’s everything. The only thing that would make this more perfect is being at home. Still, we’ve made it work here. Two queen beds pushed together, a thick foam pad laid across the top to even it out, and every blanket we could find piled on to make it feel like ours.

There’s no question. We’re all sleeping with her tonight.

I slide between the sheets first, the warmth of the bed already radiating comfort, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of pulling Avery into my arms. Her body melts into mine, and when I tuck my face into her hair, I breathe her in like it’s the first clean breath I’ve had in months. My throat tightens with emotion. She’s real. She’s alive. She’s here.

Kam slides in on the other side and doesn’t hesitate. He gently shifts her onto his chest, careful of her pregnant belly, but moving her like she belongs there—because she does. She settles against him with a sleepy sigh, and the room stills.

Lennox and Liam climb in next, curling in around her like they’re afraid she’ll disappear if they don’t stay close. Each of them reaches for her without thinking, their hands finding her legs, her arms, her belly. Small touches, simple reassurance. This isn’t a dream.

The silence that follows is thick with emotion. I stare at the ceiling for a few seconds, my heart pounding in quiet disbelief. She’s here. After all the fear, all the sleepless nights and hopeless days, she’s finally back. And not just back—she’s carrying a piece of us inside her.

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