“Holy shit,” my father says and comes over to me and hugs me, slapping my back. “My boy is going to be a father,” he says, wiping his own tear away. “I knew this day would come.” He slaps my chest. “My boy, a father.” He puts his hand in front of his mouth. “God, I hope you have a girl. She’s going to be so beautiful, and you are going to hate it. You know, with boys, you have to worry about one penis; with girls, it’s all the other penises you have to worry about. Especially with Emily’s looks, you’re fucked.”
“Nah,” I tell him. “It’s a boy. I feel it in my bones.”
“I felt you were a boy, too,” he says. “We used to fight over finding out, and your mother never wanted to know. She wanted it to be a surprise, but I felt it.”
“I want your name,” I tell him. My heart speeds up, my palms get all fucking sweaty, and I feel sick in the pit of my stomach. “I want my kids to have your name. I want them to be McIntyres. I know that changing it was a slap in the face, and there is nothing I can say that will justify that. I know I need to earn that name,” I tell him. “I know this, and I promise you that I’ll earn your name back,” I say, wiping my tears. “But I can’t have my kids have any other name than McIntyre. I want them to be McIntyres.”
“Son,” he says softly. “I don’t give a shit what is written on any fucking paper.” He walks to me. “In here.” He points at my heart. “It’s McIntyre.” I nod, and he takes me in his arms.
“Thank you,” I say, “for not making this harder than it should be.”
“You’ll be a dad before you know it, and then you’ll get it,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “You want them safe, you want them healthy, and you want them happy. The rest is just icing on the cake.”
“I have to get back to Emily. I just left her there,” I say, and he rolls his lips. “I needed to make sure this was okay before anything. She’s going to have my name, too.”
“I can’t wait,” he tells me. “I’d be honored.”
“I told her she isn’t allowed to move, and she looked like she was going to stab me,” I tell my father, and this time, he laughs. “I also mentioned that she shouldn’t go back to work and that Grandma can move in.”
“What?” he asks, shocked. “Why?”
“She shouldn’t move for the baby,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“Son,” he whispers, “marry her before she changes her mind.”
Epilogue One
Emily
“Is she sitting down?” I hear Ethan through the door and look over at Savannah.
“You’re lucky that I love your son with everything I have,” I say to her “or I would leave until after the baby is born.”
“Would you relax?” I hear Jenna tell him in the hallway. “How do you want her to walk down the aisle? Do you think she is going to float down there?”
“I can carry her,” he says, and I groan.
“I will take care of this.” Savannah gets up and comes over to me. “Just remember it’s going to be so much worse when he sees you in labor.” She hugs me and walks out in her mother of the groom dress.
“I would never expect him to be like this,” Kallie says from beside me.
“He followed me into the bathroom the other day,” I say, “because I said I had cramps.”
She rolls her lips. “I had gas.”
“Oh, honey,” she says, trying not to laugh, and I glare at her at the same time our child kicks. My hand goes down to my belly, and I look in the mirror.
The lace dress fits me like a glove, hugging my every curve and showing off my little baby bump. The little lace cap sleeves and then the light pink belt right on top of my bump, going tight to the knee and then kicking off into a mermaid style with a little train. “This is so not how I thought I would look when I got married,” I tell everyone in the room. “I look …”
“You look beautiful,” Kallie says, and the door opens, and Savannah comes back in.
“Okay, so if we don’t get you down the aisle, I think he’s just breaking down the door,” she says, and I shake my head. When we found out five months ago that we were pregnant, he went from laid-back to over the top. He refused to have sex with me, thinking he was shaking the water in the sac and making our child do the wave. Only when the doctor told him it was okay did he give in, not counting the times I would sneak up on him when he was sleeping.