She leads us back to our baby’s plastic bassinette in a curtained- off area. She tells us she’ll be back soon to answer any questions we might have after seeing our baby, and finally, it’s just us and him again.
He’s awake and looking at us. I have never seen anyone who looked so perfect in my entire life.
“Hi buddy,” Ramsey says. “Did you miss us? Because we certainly missed you!”
His eyes move back and forth, from Ramsey’s face to mine. I reach into the hole in his bassinette, and touch his soft finger.
“You’re going to be okay,” I tell him. “Mommy and daddy love you.”
Then we meet the baby’s charge nurse, Samantha.
“Your baby boy is doing well,” she says. “His breathing has already improved and his temperature is holding up. The doctor will be talking to you again soon, but much of this may just be the trauma of premature birth, and often they bounce right back after a short adjustment period. He wasn’t born that early.”
She smiles at us reassuringly, and I feel so relieved.
“I anticipate that they’ll let you hold him after a few hours, after they’re certain that he’s stabilized,” she continues. “I don’t imagine we’ll need to keep him for more than a few days, although of course I can’t say for sure.”
“Great,” I say. “That’s so good to hear. And when I can hold him, I can feed him, right?”
“Right,” the nurse assures me. “He will very likely still be able to breastfeed. You just focus on pumping until we know for sure what’s happening with Little Man here.”
“Perfect,” says Ramsey, giving my shoulder a strong squeeze.
I like the nurse, and I know Ramsey does too. It’s nice to feel that our baby is in good hands while he’s here. With everything scary that’s been going on, and even with the future so uncertain, I try hard to focus on the positives. The baby was born safely— with Ramsey’s help, and any issues are going to be monitored and taken care of— with the hospital staff’s help.
“I’ll let you guys visit with him for a little while,” she says, “since he’s awake right now. Early bonding is still important, and it’s good that both Mom and Dad are here to see him through this little rough patch. Just push the buzzer if you need me or have any questions.”
“Thank you,” we both say.
“I’m so happy he can hopefully come home soon!” I say. “And that they’re taking such very good care of him!”
“I told you he would be all right,” Ramsey says, as he puts his arm around my shoulder. But I sense relief in him as well.
“So what should we name this little guy?” I ask him, looking down at our son. “I’d considered a bunch of different names, but I really thought I had more time to decide, so I never settled on anything.”
I don’t tell him what name I was considering the most, but had rejected once I thought he was out of the picture for good. It’s too sentimental, and not even common. It’s silly, really.
“How about James?” Ramsey suggests, immediately.
“James?” I raise my head to look up at him.
“Yeah. James Bradford,” he says. “After my dad. I think he’d love the honor of having his first grandchild named after him.”
“That’s perfect,” I tell him.
And it really is.
“So, you should pick his middle name,” he says. “I can’t hog all three names.”
I laugh.
“Do you want to do the modern mother’s- last- name- as- baby’s- middle- name thing, and go with James Carrington Bradford?” he asks.
I snort.
“That sounds a little too… official. He’ll think we wanted him to be a military general from birth.”
“Don’t we?” Ramsey asks, and we both laugh again.
“Well what about something kind of crazy, but meaningful?” I ask him, deciding to put it out there.
Why not? We’ve already gone and had a baby together. Might as well take a leap into crazy name territory.
“Such as…?” he prods.
“Bowie,” I say. “As in…”
“David Bowie,” he says. “As in, our song.”
“The guy who— although he may not have brought us together, since we have Uncle Sam to thank for that— certainly extended our stay together, and very likely brought little James here into existence.”
“I like it,” Ramsey says, decisively. “James Bowie Bradford. It suits him.”
We look down at Baby James, who stares back at us, sleepily.
“He’s nodding off,” I say. “I wanted him to just keep looking at us and listening to us.”
“It means he’s comfortable,” Ramsey says. “He knows it’s safe to go to sleep. Just like I always did when I was with you.”
“Awwww.”
I put my head on his shoulder.
“I guess we should give Susan a turn now,” I tell him. “I can bring her back here if you’re okay watching Becky.”
“If she’ll even let me,” he says. “She seems to be holding a grudge against me.”
“She’ll understand, once I talk to her,” I tell him. “Should we go to the lobby now?”
I blow a kiss to James, and Ramsey squeezes my hand.
“Sure,” he says. “But there’s something I think we need to do first.”
“What’s that?”
“Jensen and Riley want to meet their very first nephew,” he says. “And we’re long overdue for a Skype chat with them.”
I nearly squeal with glee as he wraps his arms around me and kisses me.
“You told them about me?” I ask, incredulous.
“Yes, and Whitney too,” he says. “I’m sure she’s filled Harlow in.”
I laugh.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make things serious a lot earlier,” Ramsey says. “I just didn’t know if you wanted to…”
“And I didn’t know if you wanted to…”
“And here we were wanting the same thing,” he says.
“And things we didn’t even know we wanted,” I add, looking down at a sleeping Baby James.
“Exactly.”
He hugs me tight for a few seconds more and then says, “Well, let’s get on that Skype call. This proud papa has some news he can’t wait to share with the world.”
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
Today is the day I used to swear would never come to be. My wedding day. And it’s Harlow’s wedding day, too.
Harlow and I have always been close, but I never imagined we’d be “double wedding” close. After we made it through James’ first few months as a newborn, I’d proposed to Monica, telling her there was nothing I would like more than to marry the love of my life, and the mother of my child.
The nurse in James’ NICU ward was mostly right. He only had to spend a couple weeks there, and got stronger day by day. Now he’s just over a year old, and we timed his first birthday party with our wedding so that out of town friends and family of Monica’s could attend both.
I’ve been seeing the psychologist that Whitney referred me to, and he really helps me. Riley helped me navigate the military system so that I didn’t get discharged and put on long- term disability.
During the military’s investigation, they’d found no witnesses against me; everyone was on my side and testified that all I did was defend myself and Pipsqueak, who was being attacked by aggressors. Several witnesses even said that they were glad I stuck up for Pipsqueak, and that I had done the right thing.
I’m planning to exit the military anyway, but on my own timeline. I don’t want to have to worry about being deployed far away from Monica and James, or being killed in the line of duty. I’m ready to sign myself up for a more stable life, befitting the family man I’ve become. But I’ll still work at doing what I love, with Jensen in the private contractor job, training new recruits.
My “self- therapy” continues to help me just as much as the real therapy does. I’ve entered some amateur fight co
mpetitions and may work my way up to professional ones once I’m out of the military. My music is getting better and I’ve been offered a gig with a band I met at Louie’s, Jensen’s favorite dive bar, that I’m considering joining once I have more time.
When Whitney suggested to Monica that we combine weddings, I thought she was joking, or that Monica would be offended. But it ended up making a lot of sense. We’re on a budget, since Monica is in school and I’m planning to exit the military.
Whitney’s reasoning was so that both couples could save money, since we had quite the crossover in guest lists and since we could split expenses fifty- fifty. She’s always so practical and helpful.
And Monica’s the kind of girl you would expect to have been a well- renowned fighter pilot who grew up with older brothers, and that’s part of what I love about her. She’s more of a tomboy type than a girly- girl type, and she preferred a simple, down- to- earth wedding over a glitzy, glamorous one.
At first, we were just planning a courthouse wedding with a simple reception dinner afterwards. We knew that traditional weddings cost quite a bit of money and we would rather save that same amount of money for James’ college fund instead. But joining Whitney and Harlow began to seem like a good compromise— a way to have a nice wedding without spending a ton of money.
And as my brother and I stand waiting for our brides before our shared and separate guests— with a spot for Jensen at our side as joint best man, and Monica’s two living brothers lined up next to him— I realize that there’s a deeper meaning to our joint wedding. Harlow, and Jensen and I grew up together, survived everything that happened with our parents’ tumultuous marriage together, fought alongside each other, and survived Harlow’s helicopter crash together.
It’s only fitting that Harlow and I should get married together, with Jensen having led the way not too long ago.
I move off to the side so that I can play the guitar. Monica and I have added quite a few more songs to our soundtrack in the year since I’ve been back. Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child of Mine, Frank Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” and Joan Osbourne’s “Righteous Love” top the list.
Jensen ushers our mother down the aisle, which is fitting, since she’s still living with him and Riley. I don’t know how they managed to handle her, but she’s doing quite well. She’s on medication for mild dementia and she has stopped drinking completely.
I think about what would have happened had I not listened to Monica, way back when I first met her, and started putting myself first. I would have insisted my mom move into a facility— which she claims she would have run away from, and I wouldn’t put it past her— and then taken her back to live with me when I got home.
We’d be stuck in a cycle of dysfunction and she’d likely never have made such a good recovery as she’s been able to have with Jensen— who has always been better at separating himself from her issues than I have been.
Monica’s brother ushers her mother, who has made the trip to Albuquerque and has flown without Monica’s father for the first time since he fell ill. I know she is so happy to be able to have her mom here, to see where we live and what our life is like.
When the groomsmen have returned to their spots next to Harlow, I switch songs so that that the bridesmaids can walk down the aisle. Riley, a joint bridesmaid for both brides, starts the procession. She winks at Harlow as she carries the blue and white flowers that Whitney and Monica decided on— in honor of both my father James, and our son James. Then she winks at Jensen, and me.
Trish is here from Monica’s hometown in Minnesota, as her bridesmaid. Whitney’s good friend and former boss, Lance, is serving as her man of honor. And then Susan, Monica’s maid of honor, walks down the aisle. Hanging from her bouquet is a framed photo of her husband, Monica’s brother Mark.
Next come the flower girl and ring bearer— Monica’s niece Becky and nephew Mason. I’m about to become their uncle. They’re each pulling a wagon that James is sitting in, in his handsome tuxedo, behind a sign that says, “Here come the brides!” Or at least they’re each supposed to have a hand on the wagon’s handle, while Becky is supposed to be carrying a basket of flower petals, but she lets go and throws them everywhere while dancing around and announcing, “This is for my Aunt Monica! And for Whitney!”
Little Mason does his best to tug James’ wagon on his own, while everyone in the audience laughs. “Daddy!” James cries out, with his arms up, when he sees me, but Becky holds his hand and says, “Your daddy’s busy getting married! You have to stay here with me.”
Everyone laughs again, and I have to admit it’s definitely one of the cutest sights I’ve ever seen.
It’s Whitney’s turn to walk down the aisle, so I wait respectfully after cuing Cannon in D over the speaker system. Harlow starts to cry when he sees her, and she definitely looks stunning.
She joins him in front, and he takes her hand and mouths, “I love you.”
Then I move front and center and begin playing and singing my song for Monica as she walks down the aisle.
I… I am your king
And you… you are my queen
And nothing will drive us away
We can beat fate, day after day
I’ll be your hero
Just for one lifetime….
She smiles at the way I changed the lyrics to our song to match the occasion, but then tears spring to her eyes. I can’t help but start to cry myself, although I do my best to hold it back, so as to not mess up the song.
Monica is wearing a knee- length off- white dress and red heels. The frame dangling from her bouquet shows a photo of her father. Although he is still alive, he’s bedbound from his stroke and he suffers from a lot of cognitive problems. He’s here in spirit though, just like her brother Mark.
Monica’s face is radiant— she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
When she joins me in front of the arch, I pick up James from the wagon and hand him to her. As the officiant begins the ceremony, I’ve never been more certain of my lines.
I do, I do, I do. A thousand times over, I do.
Mid- reception, my brothers and I step outside to smoke a cigar.
“Congratulations, my brothers,” Jensen says, as he hands them out. “And this one’s for Dad.” He holds up a fourth cigar. “We’ll pass it around among us so that he can share it.”
“I think old Dad would be pretty proud of us,” Harlow says.
“If he’d even believe it!” I agree. “Can you imagine how many times he would have heard us say we’re never getting married, never settling down.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if he really would have believed us,” Jensen says. “He knew that us Bradford boys put on a tough act, but once we met the right women, we turned into total softies.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself,” Harlow says. “I’m the only one of us still planning to stay in the military. That’s one area of my life that I’ve managed to keep for myself.”
“You might not find civilian life too bad,” says Jensen. “Maybe you should think about joining us.”
“I have to admit I’ve thought about it,” Harlow says, with an unabashed shrug. “That card is probably in my future, but I’m just putting up a good fight for a while first.”
We all laugh.
“Seriously, though,” Harlow adds. “Dad would be proud, and as I’ve gotten older I’ve become more and more proud of Dad, and what he taught us. I know he’d love to be here today, to see all three of his sons married and happy, and his first grandson growing up right before his eyes.”
“On that note, there’s something I should tell you guys,” Jensen says, and Harlow and I look at each other in shock, and then at him. “Riley doesn’t want to take the limelight off of you guys and your wedding, so we were supposed to wait to announce this, but I want you two to be the first to know, and right now feels like the best time to tell you.”
“Oh my god,” says Harlow. “I’m going to be th
e last one. I guess that’s fitting, since I’m the youngest.”
“That’s right,” says Jensen. “Riley’s pregnant. James is going to have his first cousin on the Bradford side in about seven months.”
He looks so proud and happy that I have to hug him. Harlow does too.
“Congratulations! That’s awesome,” we say.
“Can you guys please let me out of this bear hug so I can light this other cigar?” Jensen complains. “The least you could do is not smother me so that we can have a celebratory cigar in honor of my baby- to- be, and in honor of both of your weddings.”
“To your baby- to- be,” I say, and step back to take a drag of my cigar.
I imagine James and Jensen’s child playing together. Family picnics. Birthday celebrations.
I can’t believe the life I never knew I wanted is turning out so wonderfully. All thanks to Monica, to my dad, and to these two guys right here.
“And to us,” Harlow adds, as if reading my mind. “Brothers through thick and thin.”
THE END.
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Ramsey is Standalone Book # 3 in the The Bradford Brothers series. If you liked Ramsey you will like the box set of three books, or my follow-up book Larson: A Bad Boy MC Outlaw Romance.
Click here to read The Bradford Brothers Box Set.
Click here to read Larson: An Outlaw MC Bad Boy Romance.
If you like older man/ younger woman, billionaire/ virgin romance you’ll love my Bad Boy Office Romance books Yes, Boss and Please, Boss.
Yes, Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance
I'll show her the ropes. Then I'll tie her up with them.
Asher:
Madilyn doesn't know it but I hand-picked her to work for me.
Sold on Valentine’s Day: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance Page 33