Page 51 of Axel Martin

Epilogue

Six Months Later

LARK

“You lost your phoneagain?”

I didn’t answer right away because I was too busy digging through the produce bin, muttering about cosmic injustice and the black hole that was my purse.

Axel appeared in the doorway, arms folded, expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “That’s the third time this week. And it’s Wednesday.”

“It’s not lost,” I said, victoriously holding up a banana. “It’s… temporarily unaccounted for. Also, this isn’t my phone. Why was this banana in my purse?”

He didn’t even blink. “Because you’re you, babe. That’s why.”

I glared at him, which made him laugh. That low, deep laugh that still made me weak in the knees—especially now that I was eight months pregnant and the size of a weather balloon.

“I swear, I used to be competent,” I muttered. “Once. Long ago.”

“You’re still competent. You just operate on a… creative wavelength.”

I threw the banana at him. He caught it one-handed. Show-off.

As I shuffled to the couch, Axel followed, dropping to his knees and pressing a kiss to my belly. “Hi, little one. Mama lost her phone again. Daddy’s not surprised.”

“She’s going to come out rolling her eyes,” I said.

“She’s going to come out perfect.” He kissed my belly again, then rested his forehead there. “Also, can we talk about how you’ve packed her astorm-chasing baby bag?”

“She’ll need one.”

“She’ll be, like… ten minutes old.”

“You can’t start prepping too early.”

He gave me a look. “You packed her a GoPro.”

I shrugged. “Content is king.”

We both burst into laughter. God, I loved him. I loved this life. Even if my hormones made me cry at dog food commercials and Axel had a spreadsheet foreverything—we were ridiculously, messily, happily in love. Bravo slept next to the sofa, like he wasn’t listening to us. But as soon as we said town he beat us to the truck.

“You still want to go storm chasing this spring?” he asked.

“Yep. As long as you’re carrying the diaper bag.”

“Deal. But only if you agree to stop leaving your sunglasses in the freezer.”

“I do try,” I said sweetly. “But I do love you.”

He pulled me gently into his arms, careful of the bump between us. “I love you too, Lark Martin.”

I rested my head on his shoulder and smiled.

From lost shoes and surprise tornadoes to wedding nights and babies on the way—we were just getting started.

Bonus Scene

Frasier Mountain’s Smallest Storm Chaser

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