Page 97 of Four More The Merrier

"Knock 'em dead, boys." I bounce Macy gently as they head for the stage. "We'll be right here."

The opening chords of their new song drift back to us as the crowd roars. I hold Macy close, listening to the love letter they wrote for us, performed for thousands but meant just for two.

I cradle her closer, her tiny fingers curled around my necklace as I watch my men perform from the wings.

"See that, sweet girl? That's your daddies up there." I whisper against her soft hair, swaying gently to the melody.

Nearly two years ago, I was heating up Hot Pockets in a crummy apartment by the train tracks, wondering if I should give up and go home. Now here I stand, platinum records on my wall, sharing my life with four incredible men who love me - and our daughter - more than I ever thought possible.

Austen catches my eye as he steps up to harmonize with Jarron, that familiar mischievous glint making me smile. Beau's steady bass line thrums through the floor while Lyle keeps perfect time, his drumming as reliable as his heart.

"Your momma used to think Christmas miracles were just fairy tales," I tell Macy softly. The emotion wells up in my throat as I watch them perform our love story for thousands. "But sometimes the craziest dreams really do come true."

The crowd erupts as they hit the bridge, their voices blending perfectly. My heart swells with pride and love, watching these men who chose to build something beautiful and unconventional with me. Who fought for us when I tried to run away.

Macy coos, reaching toward the stage lights, and I kiss her forehead. "That's right, baby girl. Dreams come true. Especially at Christmas."

45

QUINN

The key card beeps as we enter the suite, post-show adrenaline still coursing through our veins. I set down my purse while Jarron flops onto the plush king bed, his stage clothes still clinging with sweat.

"First night without the baby since..." Austen trails off, counting on his fingers.

"Forever," Lyle finishes, kicking off his boots.

I head to the mini bar, pulling out the bottle of wine I'd stashed earlier. "Anyone else need a drink?"

"You sure you can?" Beau's protective instincts kick in as he watches me pour five glasses. "What about feeding Mace?"

"Already thought of that, big guy." I hand him a glass with a wink. "Been pumping extra for days. Monica's got enough stored up, and these," I gesture to my chest, "are all yours tonight."

The reaction is immediate and ridiculous. All four grown men leap up like they've won the lottery, fist-bumping and high-fiving each other like teenagers.

"Hell yeah!" Jarron pumps his fist. "The girls are back!"

"Y'all are actually twelve years old," I laugh, but warmth spreads through my chest at their enthusiasm. These ridiculous, wonderful men.

"Damn straight we are," Austen grins, running a hand through his messy hair. "And proud of it."

Lyle raises his glass. "To successful shows and freed boobs!"

"Really?" I roll my eyes, but clink my glass with theirs anyway. "That's what we're toasting to?"

"And to Monica the manager slash baby whisperer," Beau adds more diplomatically. "The real MVP tonight."

"Alright, boys," I say, setting my wine glass on the table. "Here's the deal. I'm thinking of a number between one and a hundred. The one who gets closest goes first."

They exchange looks, excitement lighting up their faces. It's like watching a pack of wolves ready to pounce, and I can't help but smirk.

"Ready?" I start unbuttoning my sweater, slowly revealing the lacy bra underneath.

"Austen, you're up first."

He leans back, blue eyes glinting with mischief. "Twenty-seven."

"Good guess," I say, dropping my sweater to the floor. "Lyle, your turn."

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