Always There

Epilogue

Songs for this chapter:
• Santa, Can't You Hear Me - Kelly Clarkson & Ariana Grande

Epilogue:

A few years later...

Well, more than a few.

Many years later, years filled with love and laughter and all the happiness our Bryce and Lexi Bradshaw deserve.

Lexi's POV

I think I managed to marry the most infuriating man alive.

Because right now, it's the evening of what feels like our thousandth Christmas together, there's wrapping paper strewn all across the floor from when we all tore through the massive piles of presents under the tree this morning, and he's sitting next to me on the floor wearing a Santa hat, a pair of bright red boxer-briefs, and nothing else.

Did I mention that our whole family is sitting in this room right now? Because they are, and it's extremely embarrassing. Why can't my husband just put on a shirt for once in his forty-something years of living?

Well, I supposed not all of our family are here because, all of a sudden two six-foot giant balls of energy burst into the room and race over towards me and Bryce. They each peck me on the cheek before taking a seat to my left, but the younger of the two—only by a few minutes, but still younger nonetheless—snuggles up into my side and rests his head on my shoulder.

I reach up to ruffle his dark, fluffy hair. "You having a good Christmas, Coco?"

He grimaces at the nickname he hates so much now that he's sixteen and wants to be all grown up, but I know deep down inside he still likes it.

"Mhm." His eyes flutter shut, long eyelashes just like his dad fluttering against his sharp cheekbones. "I love you, Mum."

I smile. Cohen might be the spitting image of a sixteen-year-old Bryce Bradshaw, but inside, he's me through and through.

I open my mouth to tell him that I love him more, but then I catch a glimpse of his twin out of the corner of my eye and groan in exasperation because Noah seems to have taken Bryce's cue and has now stripped his own shirt off.

He's giggling at something Jordan's daughter Violet is saying—Noah looks exactly like Bryce and also is Bryce to an extent that still surprises me sometimes—and so his flirting even now isn't a shocker, but he must be able to feel me burning holes into the back of his head because he turns around to face me with a sheepish smile on his face.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"What?" He feigns innocence. "Dad is kinda ancient and he has his shirt off, so why can't—"

The words fly out of my mouth before I can filter them: "Put your fucking clothes on! Both of you!"

My hand flies to cover my mouth, but the damage has already been done and Nessa and Matt's little ones are giggling like mad from where all eight million of their kids are piled onto one sofa.

Just eight, I guess. But I firmly believe that having eight kids would feel like having eight million.

Matt gives me a look, because he's an overbearing dad who wants to keep his kids sheltered from the big bad world as long as he can, but I catch Nessa snickering from where she sits with their youngest bundled up in her lap, asleep a moment ago but now laughing with everyone else at my use if profanity.