Epilogue

ASHER

^FOUR YEARS LATER^

If someone had predicted that I’d be standing here as Callum’s partner in Sense, I would have laughed it off. I would have insisted that I wasn’t deserving of such a title. My life had been a series of missteps. Despite having the potential for greatness, I had chosen the path of addiction.

I could have been Atty’s partner in the hotels and club, working side by side with my twin, just as our father had envisioned. Alternatively, I could have carved out a life for myself away from all this, given my wealth and intellect. But again, I chose drugs.

If someone had told me that I would be clean of all drugs and alcohol for four years today, I would have vehemently denied it. I would have insisted that I lacked the strength to be anything more than a selfish addict. Yet, here I am, ticking off milestones as I build a life for Maddy and myself.

Damn, I almost lost her, and it was a bumpy ride for a while as we tried to move forward. I was so engrossed in my addiction that I missed the signs that she needed more from me.

I was under the impression that I was giving her my all, treating her right, and making her feel loved and complete. But that was all a figment of my imagination.

I wasn’t taking care of her; I wasn’t loving her the way she deserved. I never once asked if she needed more, never once checked if she was happy. I was seeing what I wanted to see, pretending to give her my all while secretly spiraling back into addiction.

That’s why I chose rehab, spending nearly a year away from my family, away from her, to work on myself and discover who I truly was.

It’s strange; I was convinced that my memories of taking care of her sexual needs were real, but reality slapped me in the face. She felt the need to seek someone else to make her feel complete.

Yes, she was wrong for that, and perhaps we should have communicated more, but we were just kids in our first relationship. We’ve grown so much since then, improved ourselves individually and as a couple, and we’re finally happy.

She indulges my need to take care of her, and I cater to her desire to be dominated. We’re happy and content, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

And honestly, I’ve even visited my parents’ club a few times, purely for educational purposes, of course. She wasn’t introduced to sex the way I was.

It wasn’t all romance and candlelight for her, and I never bothered to acknowledge or confront that. Her needs were more complex; she craved things that seemed almost morally wrong—things that I resented my fathers for because my mother had similar desires.

But I understand now that her being my submissive is not what I once thought. A submissive holds a lot of power in the grand scheme of things, and I like Maddy to have power.

I enjoy elevating her above me where she controls everything to her heart’s content, and she willingly steps down as my submissive in our private time to find her unique high. Seeing her thrive in a life of natural ecstasy, I’ve learned to find my own natural high in her.

Maddy is my world, and I’ve relished living this sober and privileged life beside her. Sure, we both still have our issues, and we both work on ourselves with our therapists, but at the end of the day, we’re there for each other—with open arms and listening ears.

And that’s one of the main reasons why I’ve decided to propose parenthood. I know she’s been yearning for a child—subtly so—but I’ve seen the way she lights up around babies.

She transforms into a different person as she coos down at these miniature versions of us adults. But she has respected me enough not to ask me for the one thing I swore I would never have.

She deserves this—and so do I. I firmly believe this. I’m waiting for her as she finishes her shift as the assistant manager of my parents’ hotel. She stepped down from helping Atty run Mile High, stating she couldn’t handle the job’s demands.

I was proud of her for making that choice, and I’m glad she did step down. I believe that the club put her in a mindset that perhaps contributed to our significant failures back then. She’s been around a lot of triggering behavior lately, and I can’t help but think it’s planting seeds in her mind—seeds that might not have sprouted otherwise.

“Hey, Ash,” she greets me, standing at the front desk with a new trainee she’s been mentoring.

She’s wearing one of the hotel’s crisp white button-downs, her name stitched neatly over her heart. The shirt is tucked into a form-fitting pencil skirt—a soft shade of gray—and she’s paired it with black stilettos that make her legs look miles long.

I can’t help but love when she dresses like this—it brings my secretary fantasy to life, and we often have a little fun when she gets home from work.

She says goodbye to the young girl she’s been training, then comes over to me, planting a kiss on my lips without a hint of embarrassment.

Who knew touch could be a love language?

“Do we have plans? Am I late?” she asks, stepping back to hold my hand.

“No, you’re not late. But I do have plans. Dinner, actually. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” she replies, her lips curling into a secretive smile—my secretive smile.

I know she’s already anticipating what’s to come. Tonight’s her night, which means we play. But first, dinner.

We’re quickly seated at the semi-private table my family always uses, and our appetizers arrive almost immediately. I let her enjoy the sautéed mushrooms before I speak again, taking a sip of water as I watch her swallow in a way that’s undeniably sexy.

I’m a lucky man, indeed.

“What?” she asks, her cheeks flushing a deep pink as my gaze lingers on her a bit longer than I intended.

“I have something I want to talk about, Maddy.”

“What?” she asks again, a hint of panic creeping into her voice.

I smile and reach for her hand, staying silent as the waiter clears our plates.

“What is it, Ash?” she asks.

God, she takes my breath away.

“I want us to try for a baby,” I say, watching her closely to gauge her reaction.

“Are you serious, Ash?”

“Mm-hmm…”

She lets out a squeal so loud that she quickly covers her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise.

I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing that look of pure joy in her eyes.

“I’d love that. Can you imagine a mini-you running around, Ash?”

“No, I can’t—but I can imagine a mini you,” I tell her, and we both burst into laughter.

I can’t help but wonder. What will we be blessed with?

^SEVENTEEN MONTHS LATER^

MADDISON

I never thought I’d be a mom, especially after everything that’s happened. I figured my niece, nephew, and cousins would be the closest I’d get to loving a baby. Initially, I didn’t want kids, which was fine because Asher didn’t want any either.

But as time went on and we grew together, overcoming our issues and becoming a solid team, I found myself yearning for a child of our own. Just one would be enough, one little person to shower with love.

But I knew Asher had no desire to be a dad. So, when he was the one to suggest we try for a baby, I was more than just a little surprised. My heart swelled with an indescribable emotion that day.

He wanted to start a family with me, wanted a child who would call him Dad. The idea filled me with joy.

Of course, getting pregnant doesn’t happen instantly, and I needed some scar revision surgery due to a previous ectopic pregnancy. But eventually, we did get pregnant, and to our astonishment, our one baby turned out to be two.

Identical twins nestled in my womb, growing steadily over the past nine months. I’m scared, thrilled, and apprehensive.

I thought we’d have one baby to care for, to feed, change, and take turns soothing when they couldn’t sleep. But it seems God had other plans.

God always seems to have His own plans for us. And I thank Him every day. He helped me find my voice, helped Asher get sober, and now He’s blessed us with not one, but two miracle babies.

My pregnancy hasn’t been easy; carrying two babies is obviously more taxing than one. That’s why we decided to have an elective cesarean section this morning—baby A is transverse, and it wasn’t worth risking the remaining three weeks of my pregnancy hoping they’d change position.

Regardless, I’m ready, excited, and a bit nervous. We’re all prepped, a nurse has just gone to fetch Asher, and I’m lying here, staring at the bright white ceiling and lights above me, trying to keep my breath steady.

Soon, we’ll know if we have two daughters or two sons.

“You okay, baby?” Asher asks, making me turn to my left where they’ve placed a stool for him.

I nod, not sure if I can speak as I shiver from the effects of the spinal block. I focus on him, noticing the camera around his neck, ready to capture the birth.

I can only stare at him, hoping this will be over soon.

The doctors are pulling and pushing against my stomach. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels strange and uncomfortable.

“How are we doing, Maddy?” the nurse asks.

“It feels weird,” I manage to say, my voice shaky.

“Baby A’s nearly out.” She reassures me with a smile and a comforting squeeze on my shoulder.

She’s right. They pull hard, and then there’s a moment of silence before our firstborn announces their arrival with a loud cry.

Asher’s standing, snapping pictures over the makeshift fabric wall as the doctor holds up our child for us to see.

“Oh fuck, it’s a girl, Maddy,” he says, turning back to me, his eyes wide and filled with tears.

“A girl?” I echo as our second child makes their entrance.

Everything goes quiet as I process this. The girls are quickly taken to the trolleys where two teams attend to them.

Asher moves between the tables, taking photos and talking to our daughters. I can only lie there and watch him cry, which makes me cry.

Then the nurses hand him our babies, taking his camera so he can hold both girls.

He comes to sit beside me, looking incredibly proud. With the nurse’s help, he places the girls on either shoulder, allowing me to take turns looking at our daughters up close for the first time.

They look just like their daddy, with dark hair covering their heads, his nose, his mouth. They’re like two perfect little copies of their father.

“Congratulations, guys,” the nurse says.

Asher grins at me, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“So…” he begins, reminding me of the wager we made on the day he first suggested this possibility.

The bet was simple: if we had girls, he’d get to pick their names, and if they were boys, the honor would be mine.

“I’d like you to meet Aurora and Avery,” he announces, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on my forehead.

He’s standing over me, capturing our first family photo with our newborn twin daughters.

Aurora and Avery Henderson… I have to admit, he’s chosen beautifully for our girls.

End of Book 4