Greedy little thing. Just like his father.

“A boy.” Archer settles his hand over our son’s head, his palm covering it entirely. His tone, his expression is full of awe and disbelief. He lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. I see tears glimmer there and that spurs my tears on, until the both of us are smiling and crying and cuddling our baby close.

“He’s beautiful,” I say.

“Like his mama,” Archer agrees, solemnly. “Thank you, Ivy.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a son.”

“You had a hand in it too.” I smile and stroke our son’s downy soft hair. The nurse will take him soon to clean him up, so I need to cherish this moment for as long as I can.

“What are we naming him?” Archer asks.

I tilt my head, contemplating him. “Didn’t we talk about this already?”

“Well, yeah.” Archer shrugs, his gaze dropping to our baby once more. “But a woman is allowed to change her mind.”

“You mean that? Okay, I want to name him Oscar then,” I suggest.

Archer grimaces. “Hell. No.”

“Pauly.”

“Gimme a break.”

“Jeffrey.”

“That name is just . . . no.” Archer shakes his head.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes, cradling my son close as I stare down at him with wonder. My fingers drift across his cheek, caressing his tiny little rosebud lips as I murmur, “Welcome to the world, Jackson.”

We’ve been discussing names for months, arguing back and forth. One of us would come up with a suggestion we loved just as the other would shoot it down with both barrels. It became a point of contention, made worse because we didn’t know what we were having, but I wouldn’t budge on finding out early.

It was kind of fun, keeping it a surprise, though deep down inside I knew Jackson was a he. We kept going round and round with girl names but looks like that didn’t matter. A few weeks ago, we agreed on Jackson as a name if he was a boy, and I loved the choice.

So did my husband.

Jackson Archer Bancroft has a nice ring to it.

Archer scoots closer to us, sitting on the edge of the bed as he reaches out and strokes the baby’s cheek just like I did only moments ago. “Welcome, little man. We’re glad to finally meet you.”

Turning, I lean in and kiss my husband’s cheek, overwhelmed with love for both of these men in my life. “I love you,” I whisper. “So much.”

“Love you too, babe. More than you’ll ever know,” he murmurs.

I feel exactly the same way.

Chapter Six

* * *

Gage

One week since the wedding

“I DON’T WANT to go home. Can’t we just live here forever?” My wife crosses her arms in front of her bare chest and pouts, looking sexy as hell wearing a skimpy little white bikini bottom and nothing else. Her skin is golden from the sun, her blonde hair piled up on top of her head in a messy knot. Giant sunglasses obscure her eyes and a thin gold chain hangs from her neck. The wedding band on her ring finger is the only other piece of jewelry she’s wearing.

She’s bare and simple and so freaking gorgeous it almost hurts to look at her.

Almost.

“I would love to live here forever,” I agree, looking around at the view of the crystal blue ocean spread before us. We’re staying at an exclusive resort in a three-room suite with a giant balcony that has the best view of the ocean I’ve ever seen. “Maybe I’ll move my business over here. I can sell luxurious vacation homes to the rich.”

“Ooh, are you serious?” The excitement in her voice makes me smile. She lifts her glasses and peers at me, as if to see if I’m for real or not. “And I can open a bakery here. But I won’t call it Autumn Harvest. How about Tropical Harvest instead?”

“Sure. Whatever. It all sounds good as long as I have you with me.” I lean back against my lounge chair and slip my glasses down so the intense sun doesn’t blind me. We haven’t done anything our entire honeymoon besides eat, swim, have sex, lounge around, lay on the beach, have sex, eat—

Yeah. It’s been great. Relaxing. My stressed-out bride-to-be has completely disappeared and in her place is my relaxed, happy wife. I don’t want to go home either.

But the reality is we’re flying back tomorrow. Another reality? I’ll be glad to see everyone. Happy to see baby Jackson and watch my sister and best friend lose their minds over one tiny human being.

“I wonder if Jackson’s changed at all,” Marina muses, reading my mind as usual.

“It’s been a week,” I say. “He’ll be what? Eight days old by the time we see him again? Nine? I’m sure he hasn’t changed much since we met him at the hospital.” We’d lucked out when we were finally able to stop by. Along with the baby, we got to see Archer and a very exhausted Ivy. Marina had held the baby and cried along with Ivy, which had moved me because I’d had a sudden image of Marina holding our baby someday.

Crazy.

“I’ve heard they can almost double their weight in the first week. He’ll be a completely different baby.” I glance over to see more pouting from my wife. “He won’t even recognize us I bet.”

I bark out a surprised laugh. “You gotta be kidding me. He didn’t recognize us before.”

“He heard my voice a lot when he was in the womb. I know he knows me. I’ll be his favorite aunt.” She drops her arms to her sides and relaxes against the overstuffed lounger cushion, her glasses once more in place over her eyes, her smooth skin glistening beneath the sun.