Page 85 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

“I love you, too.”

They stand before me—and I realize, with a clarity that steals my breath, that they want me just as fiercely as I want them.

Family. The word blossoms in my mind, filling me with a warmth I've long denied myself. We are more than the sum of our parts; together, we're something indefinable, something whole. They are not just men in my life—they are my stronghold, my sanctuary.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice steady even as emotion swells within me. "For seeing me, for wanting me." My gaze flits between them, locking onto each set of eyes in turn. "And for giving me a place where I don't have to run anymore."

A quiet breath hangs in the space between us, each of our heartbeats in sync, the silence thick with promises. This is it—the moment where everything that came before us shifts. We’ve built something more than love. We’ve built a future. No longer paralyzed by fear or doubt, I step into it fully, embracing the strength we’ve found in each other.

In the warmth of their arms, the certainty settles inside me. We’re not just surviving anymore. We’rehome.

Chapter 27

Skylar

Epilogue 1

One Year Later

I lean against the cool marble counter, my eyes drifting out the window, where the children are lost in play. The afternoon light filters through the leaves of the old oak tree, casting dappled patterns on the lawn. Their laughter fills the air, pure and unburdened, a melody that wraps itself around my heart.

Birdie is with them, her silver hair catching the sunlight, a beacon of vitality. She leads the games with the energy of someone decades younger, her laughter blending with theirs—a harmony of joy. Not so long ago, I feared we might lose her. Now, here she is, a living testament to resilience. I should never have doubted her.

She did sell the house and she did move down to Florida to be with her sister, but we stayed in touch. She's here visiting for a few weeks and the kids just adore her. Everyone adores her.

A smile pulls at my lips, a quiet recognition of just how far we've come. The walls of this house, once dripping with hurt and abandonment, now hum with warmth.

I hear Cohen and Austin arguing about something. At first, I can’t make out the words, but the tone is unmistakable—frustration tinged with the kind of brotherly affection that only siblings can pull off. It’s a sound I’ve come to know well in the year since we’ve all settled into this new rhythm.

As their voices rise, the sharpness of their words cuts through the air, but there’s something oddly comforting about it. Despite the bickering, there’s an unspoken understanding between them. This—this—is what family sounds like.

"Can't you just admit you're wrong for once?" Cohen's voice carries more weight than usual, his patience worn thin.

"Me? Wrong?" Austin snorts, the sound sharp and incredulous. "That would imply you actually know what you're doing."

Their bickering should irk me, disrupt this tranquil moment of watching Birdie dance with the children outside, but it doesn't. Instead, there's an odd tranquility in the discord, a reminder of the vibrant life filling the corners of this once-empty house.

A floorboard creaks behind me, and without looking, I know it's Theo. The air shifts, charged with his scent—something woodsy and clean.

His arms encircle my waist, pulling me back against a chest that has become my haven. Lips press gently against the skin of my neck, and I tip my head to the side, granting him better access.

"Hey," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. My hand finds his where it cradles the swell of my belly.

"Hey yourself," he replies, his breath warm on my skin. There's laughter in his voice, a soothing melody that drowns out the distant squabble of the brothers upstairs.

"Think they'll ever figure it out?" I ask, the corner of my mouth lifting in amusement.

"Eventually," Theo chuckles, his fingers splaying across the fabric of my shirt, gentle over the curve of our growing miracle. "They're just too stubborn to see eye to eye right now."

"Want to come see how the nursery's shaping up?" he asks.

I nod, my heart skipping at the thought of what awaits us upstairs. The hardwood feels cool under my bare feet as I follow Theo, his hand gently guiding my lower back. Climbing the stairs, I can't help but feel every step is bringing us closer to a future I once thought was unreachable.

At the top of the staircase, Austin and Cohen’s banter grows louder, the usual back-and-forth escalating. Theo clears his throat with deliberate force, and just like that, the noise cuts off completely. With a glint of boyish pride in his eyes, he pushes open the door, and I step into a dream spun into reality.

Blue hues wash over the room like the calm tide of the ocean—soothing, serene. The afternoon sun spills across the wooden floorboards, casting a warm, golden glow. A rocker rests by the window, its cushions soft and inviting. Along the wall, a large dresser holds so many tiny clothes, folded neatly, waiting to cradle a new life.

And there, at the center of it all, stands the crib—a labor of love, not yet complete. With the way the two men building it have been bickering, I've wondered if it will ever be finished. But Austin’s laughter rings through the air as he hands Cohen a tool, their earlier tension dissolved by the easy camaraderie between them. The sight of them working side by side, their focus entirely on this symbol of new beginnings, fills me with such warmth.

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