I pull the tie loose and unbutton the top two buttons as I drift toward the bar for a quick drink while she puts the baby down. Although I guess I can’t keep calling her a baby. She’s nearly three already.

As I stare out the large glass window into the dark abyss of the beach, I remember where I was three years ago today. What a jackass I was. And as I steal a glance at my life now, toys scattered across my living room floor, new ink on my skin courtesy of my wife and business partner, the wedding band on my finger, I think about how much I stood to lose if Hazel hadn’t butted into my goddamn business.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. As I fish it out, I see my brother’s name pop up on the screen.

Ryder: I think it went well.

Murph: How the fuck would I know? You think I’ve ever been to a benefit before?

Murph: Let alone fucking throw one.

He responds back with an eye-roll emoji. I talk a big game and he knows it. Of course the benefit went well. The Hazel Whitaker Foundation for Foster Youth stood absolutely no chance of not being a major success. Not necessarily because of the guys behind the whole thing, but because the girls led the way from the very beginning.

We met our goal, and now we’re able to fund at least five full-ride scholarships for foster kids every year. Next year, I want more.

Savannah steps up behind me, her arms wrapping around me but unable to meet with that round globe between us.

“How are you feeling?” I ask as I turn and rub my hands over her belly.

“Good,” she says, stretching her back. “Everything about this one is different, so I have a very good feeling.” She shines with excitement. We decided not to find out the sex with either of her pregnancies, and I smile back at her because she thinks I want a boy, but to be honest, I couldn’t care less. I want another beautiful, healthy little Savannah-clone in my life, and I don’t care about much else.

“Well, I know one thing that’s not any different,” I chuckle as she starts rubbing her palm along the growing thickness in the front of my pants.

“Mrs. Murphy, you are insatiable.”

“Fuck right, Mr. Murphy.” Her fingers don’t fumble pulling my belt open, and I kiss her, my beautiful wife, as I carry her to the bedroom.

Bonus Epilogue

See Murph and Savannah seven years down the road…

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Read Rafe’s Story

She hates me.

And for good reason. 

I put her brother away ten years ago. But it’s up to me to keep Wicked Beach safe.