Drew Starkey wasn’t just famous—he was the actor. Universally adored. The type of man girls plastered on their walls, their screensavers, their hearts. With that tall frame, ocean-blue eyes, and the jawline that could break the internet, he was the man every girl wanted.

And you? You were no less. A global phenomenon. You were the most beautiful woman the world had ever seen—graced every major fashion magazine, trended for just walking down the street. Dirty blonde hair fell in soft waves. Your green eyes were like crushed emeralds. That buttoned, straight nose. Plump, pink lips that made headlines. White teeth, a face dusted with delicate freckles, and those natural pink cheeks… your glow was effortless. Unmatched. Iconic.

Because this wasn’t just a Hollywood love story. This was childhood friends to forever.

You’d grown up together—holidays spent around the same tables, summers shared under the same skies. Then came that kiss at fourteen—innocent, awkward, and life-changing. Teenagers weren’t supposed to last, but you and Drew defied everything. it all led to something unshakable. By the time he dropped to one knee on your birthday at twenty, you didn’t just believe in love anymore—you believed in forever.

Your wedding in the Maldives was breathtaking. A diamond ring that caught the sun like fire, waves crashing behind you as you said “I do.” You became Mrs. Starkey, walking down the aisle toward the boy who’d grown into your dream man.

The honeymoon was a whirlwind—Italy, France, Spain, Greece, everywhere your passports could take you. But the best trip was the one you never planned.

Because a year later, on March 17th, you found out you were pregnant. You told Drew with a tiny box—inside were baby shoes and a onesie that said “Hi, Daddy.” He cried. And nine months later, on November 17th—just days after Drew’s own birthday—you held your baby boy in your arms.

Andrew James Starkey.

Tiny. Precious. Perfect. He had Drew’s ocean eyes, Drew’s golden hair, Drew’s long lashes. Only your button nose and plump lips betrayed your genetics. He was his father’s son.

Now, Andrew was two months old.

And here you were again—in the Maldives, this time with both your families, a massive beachfront house filled with laughter, chaos, and teasing. Jodi was there, your mom Hailey, Drew’s siblings Brooke and Logan, and Noah, your protective big brother. The house was buzzing with air-conditioning against the brutal summer heat, but outside the sun blazed over turquoise waters.

This morning, the whole family was gathered in the living room, sprawled together on the huge sectional couch. Drew sat in the middle, little Andrew nestled in his arms. You leaned against him, your hand resting gently on his thigh. Brooke was on one side, Logan on the other, Noah sprawled out at your feet, and Jodi and Hailey sat close, sharing soft giggles and coos at the baby. Logan leaned over dramatically, pointing at the baby.

“I still can’t believe you two actually did it. Like, I know exactly what went down one night in Malibu that led to this little guy.”

He smirked, wiggling his brows. You gasped, throwing a piece of toast at him. Noah, never one to miss a chance, chimed in. he pointed at Drew with mock seriousness

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t want to know what my baby sister did. But let’s be real, Starkey—we all know you were the troublemaker.”

Drew laughed, that low, smug laugh that made your knees weak. He bounced Andrew gently and said

“What can I say? He’s perfect. Worth every second.”

But Andrew gurgled at that moment, his little lips breaking into a gummy smile—almost as if he understood. Then Logan snorted

“Seconds? More like hours.”

you yelped, hiding your face as Brooke nearly fell out of her chair laughing. Jodi gave her son a glare but she was fighting a smile. Drew chuckled as you hid your face, his laughter harmonizing with yours and the others. He pulled you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around you, holding you tight against his side. Andrew made another little noises