Page 125 of Play Dirty

“Extrais why I fell in love with you.” He kisses me again and I sigh against his mouth.

I can’t believe I’m even thinking it, but everything is right in my world.

Especially the man I’m going to marry.

Epilogue

Marty

Three years later…

I’ve gonethrough childbirth as an expectant father three times before, so this should be a breeze, but it’s not. Stevie is a mess and we’re both pacing as we wait for news from the doctor about our surrogate. One minute we were knee-deep in the adoption process and then Jeri made us an incredible offer—she would donate eggs if we wanted to have a biological child.

A child that would be mine and would technically include some of Stevie too, since they’re sisters. At first, we were both reluctant, but Jeri was so sincere in her offer, and finding a surrogate was easier than anticipated.

And now we’re about to be parents.

The fourth time for me but the first for Stevie.

“You okay?” I ask her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I will be once we know everything is okay.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Nadeau?” The doctor comes out. “Congratulations. You have a beautiful little girl.”

“Oh my God.” Stevie’s hands fly to her mouth, and her eyes meet mine.

“Let’s go meet our daughter,” I whisper, taking her hand.

We follow her into the room where Daphne, our surrogate, is smiling. She’s a twenty-one-year-old college student who needed money for her studies. She lived with us the last eight months, while going to school and even helping with our current children. She’s become part of the family and we’re so appreciative of her.

“I haven’t held her,” she tells us. “I wanted you guys to hold her first.”

“Oh.” Stevie’s eyes fill with tears as she looks at the tiny swaddled bundle the nurse is holding out.

“Go on,” I tell Stevie. “You first.”

She holds out her arms and tears spill as she takes our daughter in her arms.

“Look at her, Marty,” she whispers. “She’s…perfect.”

“Of course she is.” I run my finger along the baby’s cheek.

“I can’t believe she’s…ours.” Stevie looks up at me.

“But she is.”

“We still haven’t decided on a name.”

We’d decided not to find out the sex ahead of time, wanting to choose a name after we saw her.

“Hope,” Stevie says suddenly.

“What?”

“Let’s name her Hope. I didn’t have any until I found you. No hope of ever finding a man who would love me for me. No hope of having a child of my own. No hope of ever being happy.”

“But now you do.”

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