Epilogue
Christmas Eve
The soft glow of a miniature tabletop Christmas tree lit the corner of the nursery in warm yellow light, casting delicate shadows across freshly folded baby blankets and the sturdy crib and rocking chair, both handmade by their friend, Ant, the latter an early Christmas present from him and Lou.
May stood over the crib, one hand resting absently over the swell of her belly, the other on the top rail.
She was nearly four months pregnant and in excellent health.
Xavier had seen to that. He’d managed to be everything she needed, and not too much of what she didn’t.
He’d meant what he’d said the night she’d come here to ask if they could be friends.
They were, but they were also so much more.
She stepped deeper into the room, admiring the sprawl of yard outside the window.
There wasn’t snow on the ground, but it was cold.
The kind of cold that made one question why they lived at the lake.
But soon it would be spring, and then summer, and then they would be navigating the choppy waters of parenthood.
She’d moved in mere weeks after their reconciliation, not wanting to waste time or navigate a move while even more pregnant than she’d been at the time.
Her house had sold at the beginning of December—to Hazel, of all people. The young librarian had grown tired of apartment life and had recently received a promotion. May was happy that her sweet little house went to someone who loved it as much as she had.
Now May was embracing another chapter of her life.
She and Xavier had visited his parents’ house today.
They’d eaten dinner with the entire family—Lynx included.
May liked his dad and adored his mom, who was the right amount of intrusive.
And Lynx, who hadn’t straightened out yet, had offered a welcome respite from any seriousness at the dinner table.
He was “stoked” about being an uncle. And went on and on about taking “your kid on a dirt bike as soon as possible.” Xavier, predictably, argued that Lynx would never be alone with “our kid.” May had cupped her mouth to cover a proud smile.
Xavier had already perfected his Dad Voice.
May enjoyed the lively family banter that had been absent for her over the years.
She was also back in touch with Prescott’s sisters and mother, but at a healthy distance, and with Xavier’s blessing.
He wasn’t jealous of her ex, which she knew.
He simply wanted her to have all the support and connection she desired.
And that was only one of a million reasons she loved him so much.
“Hey,” came his voice from behind her.
Her fiancé was wearing the jeans and sweater he’d worn to dinner tonight, and was carrying a glass with a scant inch of brown liquid in it.
“Decide on that nightcap after all?”
He strolled in, his socks shuffling along the rug. “Lynx drives me to drink.”
She chuckled.
Her fingers drifted along the edge of the crib. “I was thinking about this new chapter of my life. I’m turning the page. Leaving behind the past.”
He hummed. “But not entirely.”
“No, I guess you’re right. I am still friends with the Stantons. And technically, you’re my past who has turned into my future.”
“We don’t ever really leave things behind. The people, the circumstances. They shape who we become. We wouldn’t be who we are now without them.”
“So true. Makes it hard to have regrets.”
“Regrets are a waste of time.”
She loved that outlook. She loved him.
They stood there, letting the quiet wrap around them like a warm blanket. She tilted her head back to admire where the earth-green paint met the stark white ceiling. “You know, your mom did an amazing job on the trim. She has a steady hand for being—”
A knock at the front door startled her out of the thought.
“Who could that be?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Hmm. I wonder.”
“Do you.” She watched him, suspicious.
“Come with me.” He led her down the stairs. Another knock came, and she felt her breath catch. Something was going on, and it felt big. Significant, even.
The tall Christmas tree downstairs was lit, and the gas fireplace flickered—the only lights in the room.
“You ready?” He clasped the doorknob.
“What did you do?” Her mind was racing. He could pull open that door and reveal anything. A hot tub. Carolers. A pony?
Instead, the open door revealed an older man clutching a bouquet of colorful flowers. What kind, she had no idea. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face.
Emotion clogged her throat, gripped her stomach.
“Dad?”
The man smiled tentatively. Beyond her sloshing heartbeat, she heard Xavier invite her father inside.
She had reached out to him exactly twice.
Once in a text to let him know she had news, and a follow-up phone call where she’d shared he was going to be a grandfather.
They’d ended that call by exchanging I love yous and then her father promised to visit soon.
She hadn’t believed him.
But here he was.
Xavier took the bouquet. Her father stood in the living room, still bundled in his coat, his posture awkward. His eyes searched the room briefly before landing on her.
“I wanted to surprise you,” came his hoarse confession. “I’m not dying or anything.”
She let out a small laugh. “That’s good news.”
“I want to start fresh. Like we talked about. I figured when better than Christmas. When better than when you’re about to have my grandchild.”
She felt many conflicting emotions when it came to him. After all, he’d left. But she still loved him. She’d grieved alone while he’d been consumed by his own grief. But her son or daughter deserved to know their grandfather. Before she lost her mother, he was a good man. A loving man.
“I lost my way.” In a rare moment of transparency, he let his true feelings show. Emotion snagged his next words. “I’m sorry, May. I don’t know what else to say.”
“That’s a great start.” She held herself in check, unsure what to do next. Then she reminded herself that she was the source of her stability. Her safety. Her power.
When he reached for her, she melted into him.
Soaking in his presence, she rested her chin on one strong shoulder.
At one point, he’d been her rock. Her eyes went to Xavier, who was standing a few feet away, arms folded, a knowing smile on his face.
Her father wasn’t her only rock. She had Xavier. She had friends. She had herself.
Later that evening, after her father was settled in one of the guest bedrooms, she lay awake, her eyes on the ceiling. Next to her, Xavier watched her closely, waiting for her response. He’d asked if she was okay.
Was she?
She turned her head and met her husband-to-be’s eyes. In them she saw his love for her, and the promise of a future that blended their pasts—who they used to be with who they were becoming.
“I’m better than okay.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you for inviting him. It was a nice surprise.”
“I knew it was a risk, but I was taking my cues from you.” He smoothed a hand down her arm and clasped her hand. He kissed her fingers, holding them against his lips for a moment. “Merry Christmas, May. This is the good stuff.”
Tears swam in her eyes. And here she’d thought she was done crying for the evening. She couldn’t help herself. She was so grateful for everything that had happened—the unplanned mess of it. The tough moments had made moments like these even more beautiful.
“Merry Christmas, Xavier. The first of many.”
They kissed again.
May, her eyes on the skylight, watched as a cold winter rain began to peck the glass. Not snow, but somehow it was still perfect.
Just as it should have been.
She wouldn’t change a thing.