Page 68 of Stuffed

"Wouldn't have it any other way." I pull her closer, breathing in this moment. "Though you'll always be my Mrs. Mercer."

Around us, our unlikely family celebrates—corporate executives dancing with shelter residents, apprentice bakers serving carefully crafted desserts, our mothers trading embarrassing childhood stories. Even Asher and Ivy are lost in their own world, plotting their own future happiness.

Espresso weaves between our legs, still wearing his bow tie, clearly pleased with his performance today.

"He's going to expect to dress up for board meetings now." Tessa laughs.

"Maybe he should. Might help with difficult negotiations."

I spin her under the twinkling lights, marveling at how perfectly she fits in my arms. How perfectly she fits into every aspect of my life.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks, her eyes bright with happiness.

"How right this feels," I murmur against her hair. "You, here. Us. Everything."

Because some unions aren't just about joining lives, they're about joining purposes, joining visions. Creating something bigger than ourselves.

As the city glows bright, as our family celebrates around us, as Tessa smiles up at me with all the love I never thought I deserved, I know that this is just the beginning.

And I can't wait for every single moment of it.

Chapter 21

Tessa

THE BIRTH OF OUR SON…

I've faced a lot of challenges in my life, but twenty hours of labor definitely tops the list. The contractions started during a late-night bakery inventory—three weeks earlier than expected, just like his father, always keeping me on my toes.

"Tell me about the shelter's new education program," I demand between contractions, squeezing Zane's hand. "Distract me."

He looks adorably rumpled, his usually perfect suit wrinkled from hours of pacing. But he starts talking—about funding and curricula and future plans. His voice anchors me, keeps me focused, until suddenly…

Our son is here, screaming his arrival to the world.

"He's perfect," Zane whispers, holding him for the first time, and I've never seen him look so vulnerable. So completely, utterly in love.

"James Phillip Mercer," I say softly, watching my husband cradle our son. "Welcome to the family, little man."

Parenthood, we quickly discover, is nothing like running a business empire. There's no spreadsheet for midnight feedings, no strategic plan for colic. But somehow, we find our rhythm.

I watch Zane conduct board meetings with James strapped to his chest, his tiny hand curled around his father's tie. I handle client calls while bouncing our son in his carrier during early morning bakery prep.

"We're really doing this." I laugh one morning, finding Zane asleep in the nursery rocking chair, James perfectly content on his chest, Espresso curled protectively at their feet.

"Doing what?" Zane asks sleepily.

"Everything. Running multiple businesses, raising a tiny human…" I settle onto the arm of the chair, running my fingers through our son's dark hair—so like his father's.

"Remember when your biggest worry was hiding Espresso from me?" I ask, watching our cat gently nose at James’ tiny feet.

Zane chuckles, the sound rumbling under my ear. "Now look at us."

"Yeah." I smile, taking in our little family. "Look at us."

James yawns, his tiny face scrunching up exactly like Zane's does when he's reviewing complicated contracts. My heart feels too full, too blessed. And every sleepless night, every challenging day, every moment of chaos is worth it.

We're building something more precious than any business empire; we're building a family. One tiny heartbeat at a time.

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