Drew Starkey wasn’t just famous. He was Drew Starkey. The man, the myth, the legend. The one with a face sculpted by gods—ocean-blue eyes that could drown you, a smile that turned millions into mush, and a presence that made the world stop. Every girl wanted him, every magazine needed him, and every camera loved him. But to you? He was just Drew.

And you weren’t just anyone either. You were you—the most adored actress, model, and influencer of your generation. With glowing green eyes, a perfectly straight nose, pouty pink lips, white teeth that sparkled under every spotlight, freckles that danced across your cheeks, and sun-kissed dirty blonde hair… the world was obsessed.

But this wasn’t about fame. This was about how you and Drew Starkey had been in love since forever. Your families were close—summer vacations, birthdays, shared holiday dinners. You and Drew practically grew up holding hands. When you were teenagers, it took just one kiss—one quiet, breathless moment—for everything to change. That night, the boy next door became your boyfriend.

Years flew by. Until the night Drew dropped to one knee on a quiet beach at sunset. You were 21. He was 23. The ocean roared softly behind you. The sand was cool under your feet. He didn’t need a speech. Just a look, a trembling smile, and one question.

You said yes before he even finished. Months later, you became Mia Madeleine Starkey. The wedding was out of a fairytale—sunset lights, strings of flowers, the kind of joy that fills your lungs like fresh air. Your families cried, danced, hugged until sunrise. It was the happiest day of your life.

And for two years, it was just you and Drew. You traveled. Worked. Loved. Laughed. The press called you “Hollywood’s Golden Couple.” Your moms, though? They had one question on loop:

“When are the babies coming?”

Drew always laughed and said, “Not yet.” He swore he didn’t want kids right now—his heart was set on you and his career. But you knew him. Deep down, behind the jokes and charm, he adored kids.

And then, on his birthday, November 4th, everything changed. That morning, you stared at the positive test in your hand and nearly screamed. Instead, you crafted a gift box—baby onesies, tiny shoes, a bottle, a little note tucked into the folds of soft blue fabric. You wrapped it with trembling hands, heart pounding like crazy.

Drew opened the box… and went silent. His eyes filled. “Are you serious?” he whispered. When you nodded, he dropped the box, stood, and hugged you like he’d never let go.

“Holy sh*t, we’re having a baby.”

When you told your families? CHAOS. Happy screaming. Crying. Dancing. Brooke and Logan started planning the baby shower that same night.

Time flew. And then came the gender reveal. It was a boy. Drew screamed and literally started pacing the yard like a madman, ranting about teaching him basketball and naming him something “epic.”

In the hospital, he was more nervous than you. You were calm. In fact, you laughed at his panic. And then, boom—just five minutes later—you were holding your son. Drew cried. For real.

*You named him Andrew Theodore Starkey.

You brought him home two days later.

Drew carried the car seat in like it was made of diamonds. Then he turned on music, picked up Andrew, and made him dance. “Lil man got moves already,” he grinned. You were trying to breastfeed, and Drew was still teasing you.

“This kid’s living the life. Boobs, naps, and attention. My hero.”

Now it was a hot summer evening. You were home, cuddled on the couch, Andrew snuggled into your arms. The AC was blasting on all four floors of the house because the Miami heat was no joke. Drew had texted earlier:

“Coming home early. Prepare to be annoyed baby”

You smirked. The front door opened. In walked Drew Starkey—sun-tanned, sweaty, gorgeous, with that grin on his face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my two favorite freeloaders,”

Drew leaned in, kissed your forehead, then looked at Andrew and whispered

“Hey, little man. Did mama let you watch reality TV again? Blink once for yes.”