Page 133 of The Ruthless and the Strong

But they never found any evidence to use against me.

The day I asked Lizzie to marry me, I had Nicolas send out a cease and desist letter to their superiors, on the grounds of harassment to get them to stop following me. They had moved back to Wyoming shortly after that and never came back to Chicago.

I turned my attention to Logan, who was holding his six-month-old daughter in his arms. She was adorable. Definitely the easiest baby I had ever met. She was looking at her dad like he hung the moon and stars in the sky.

“How is little Cayden doing?” I asked Logan, holding my finger out to her. She grabbed onto it right away, showing off the one and only tooth in her mouth.

She was a spitting image of Logan.

Out of the four of us, Logan surprisingly ended up with the most kids, with his three-year-old boy, Xavier; Cayden; and they were expecting a third child, another girl. Hayden was about two months along, having gotten pregnant just four months after she had given birth to Cayden.

Gage, on the other hand, was a girls’ dad, with two little girls in his house, Kingsley, and little Georgie, who had just turned one last month.

My eyes moved to the women sitting on the patio chairs, laughing loudly and sipping ice teas with four little ones their arms.

Olivia was holding onto Kingsley, and by the look in her eyes, she might be experiencing a bit of baby fever, while Hayden had Xavier on her lap. He put his hand on her belly. It was too soon to tell that she was pregnant, but he had become absolutely fascinated with the fact that his mom had a baby growing inside of her since they told him. He didn’t stray too far away from her—a total mama’s boy.

Kiera was cooing and playing with her youngest daughter, and if Kingsley was loud and stubborn and impulsive, then little Georgie was a dream.

Finally my eyes moved to my wife. Her red hair was pulled up in a high bun today, strands of it falling delicately around her small face. She didn’t have on any makeup, but then again, she didn’t need to wear makeup. I quite loved the way she looked. Her sundress was tight around her waist, and I knew that was a big deal for her. Lizzie had always been on the slender side, but her second pregnancy had changed her body.

She was still slender, but not like she had been in her early twenties. It something she was self-conscious about, no matter how many times I told how beautiful she looked. And this sundress really accentuated her curves.

It had taken everything in me not to carry her back in the house and have my way with her this morning when she first came downstairs in that.

I would have, too, if our kids weren’t in the room, and we didn’t have guests coming over.

She was holding onto our nine-month-old son.

I never really thought I would have kids. I loved kids, and it was something I had wanted for myself, considering I had been an adopted parent to other kids, first Olivia, then Hunter. I didn’t regret it. I wouldn’t have minded if Lizzie told me she didn’t want any more kids.

Having Hunter was enough.

He was my pride and joy. He was my son.

But then Lizzie told me eighteen months ago she was pregnant with Maddox, and I had felt completely and overwhelmingly happy.

And no, my youngest didn’t complete my family, since I always thought it was already completed to begin with—but added to it instead.

Maddox was a blessing I hadn’t wished for, but felt fortunate to have.

And watching Lizzie’s body change as she kept our son inside her body safely for nine months was a blessing. I didn’t get to see her for her first pregnancy, so I hadn’t wanted to miss a second of this one.

“You’re drooling a bit,” Mason teased. I shoved him away, not that it did anything. He laughed.

I handed him the tongs. “You’re on grill duty.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t eat all the food.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed me away. “Yeah, yeah. Go to your wife. I got this.”

I chuckled at that and walked away. Hunter saw me walking away from the grill and ran over to me. He didn’t say anything as he grabbed my hand.

Give it a few years and he wouldn’t want to hold my hand anymore.

I knew that, so I wasn’t taking any of this for granted. Lizzie looked up at us when we were close enough. “Want to help us make the salad?” I asked her.

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