Conception (The Wellingtons #4) - Tessa Teevan Page 0,143

anymore. It wasn’t until I met Charlie that I learned life isn’t so black and white. Perceptions are a bitch when you’re eighteen and think you know everything. It wasn’t until Charlie that I realized I actually had the capacity for forgiveness. That I could own up to my own failings, misgivings, whatever the hell you want to call them. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that she taught me true, unconditional love and what it means to be a family. Charlie, come up here, sweetheart.”

As she ascends to the stage, all eyes are on her. And I don’t blame one soul. She’s freaking gorgeous in a swaying, emerald-green sundress that shows off her excellent tan.

“Hi.” My usually confident wife waves with a shy smile to the crowd. “I’m Charlie.”

Everyone laughs because it’s an asinine statement. Everyone here knows who she is. And if they don’t? They’ve already asked someone who the breathtaking brunette is here with. Sure, my chest puffs up a bit at knowing she’s with me. Six fucking years and nothing’s changed.

Charlie wraps one arm around my waist and then presses the other to my chest. Her eyes shine up at me. “Ready?” she mouths.

I answer her with a sweet kiss to her lips. I could continue this moment for eternity, but even with as much as I love showing off my wife, this is one department that is for me only.

Throats clear and I glance over to see Branson grinning. Ari’s drawn to his side, a toddler on one hip and another clinging to her legs. What a fucking life us Wellingtons lead.

“Speech!”

I scour the crowd and find Cohen’s devilish grin egging me on. He has zero idea what’s going on. Branson and Charlie are the only ones who know.

I kiss my wife’s lips then glance out to the crowd. “Dad. Where are you?”

It’s silent, which is unusual because my dad is a spotlight kinda guy.

“Ma! Where’s Dad?” Cohen yells.

Almost immediately, my dad grumbles. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Dad makes his way to the stage, and Branson tries to give him a chair, which he brushes off. Don’t blame the man. I’d do the same.

“I was in the middle of sneaking a cigar, so this better be good.”

The crowd roars.

Charlie, my freaking queen, takes his hand in hers and pulls him beside her. She presses a sweet kiss to his cheek. “Dad, you will not regret giving up that cigar.” She nods to me.

Go time.

I’m not really sure why I’m so nervous. I’ve stared down the enemy and been blown the fuck up only to go right back into battle. So fuck it. I’m just gonna wing it.

I take a deep breath. “It took nearly thirty years to understand who I am. Why I am who I am. And it took thirty years to understand that it doesn’t matter. I am who I am, and I’m so fucking thankful for it. Sorry, Mom.”

I walk over and place my hand on Dad’s arm. “What I’m trying to say is… I’m so fucking—again sorry, Mom—proud to be Knox Wellington the Third. And I couldn’t be prouder to bring the fourth into the world.”

I hear Mom’s gasp from the crowd, but it’s the tears in Dad’s eyes I focus on.

He clutches my wrist. “Knox…”

“Yeah, Dad. Charlie’s expecting and it’s a boy. We’d be honored to carry on the family name.”

“You mean…”

Charlie steps up, the microphone in her hand, other hand on her belly. “If you all didn’t just hear that, let me be the bearer of great news. Cade and Chloe, as well as us, are thrilled to be welcoming a baby brother in few months.” She smiles wistfully at me and Dad. “Their brother, Knox Nathaniel Wellington the Fourth.”

Mom cheers. Arianna cries. Andi whoops. Chloe’s on the side of the stage pulling Cade’s hair. It’s par for the course.

I fucking love my family.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve shed tears in my life. One of those times accounts for when the boys and I were wrestling and not one, but two knees accidentally ended up in my groin. That hurt like a bitch for three days. Three long damn days I couldn’t make love to my wife. If that’s not tear-worthy, I don’t know what is.

This gift Knox and Charlie have given me? They’re forcing me to now use two hands. I throw the rest of my scotch back then stroll towards the stage, where Branson’s waving for me to join the happy, expecting