2024 Epilogue
James’s Perspective
We’re here again, pulling into the Wallis family cabin driveway, greeted by the snow-covered peaks and ice sparkling between the logs.
Only this time, the right woman is beside me.
I bring Sydney’s hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her warm skin as I take her in.
She’s breathtaking—the way her brown hair grazes her chin, cut shorter like that New Year’s, the soft lines at the corners of her eyes she complains about, but I adore.
The full lips I can never resist. I promised always to worship her, and it’s a promise I plan to keep.
This place witnessed our love—the stolen glances, the heartbreaks, and finally, the year that changed everything.
If it hadn't been for these walls, for what we fought through, I don't know if we'd be here. If I'd walked away, made the easy choice, I'm certain we'd both be miserable.
Instead, we're here. Together.
There’s a weariness in Sydney's face, waves of anxiety rolling off her with every finger tap against her thigh, each slow, exaggerated breath. We’re dropping Anna off to spend Christmas with her dad and his family. It’s the first Christmas they won’t be together.
“Ready?” I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Sitting here won’t make it any easier.” She swipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “You ready, Bug?”
I reach back to unbuckle Anna and give her a high five. “Merry Christmas, kiddo. We’ll see you in two days. Get ready for more presents and ice skating!”
“Will we go back home then?” Instead of high-fiving, she grabs my hand and squeezes. Her big eyes, so similar to her mom’s, are glassy with unshed tears.
This kid is a champ, navigating her changing world with more resilience than any four-year-old should ever need.
“Yeah, Bug, we’ll go home then.”
She climbs into the front of the car, wraps her arms around me, and says, “Love you, Daddy J.”
I squeeze her back. It never gets old hearing her call me that. She might not be mine by blood, but I love this little girl with everything I have.
After leaving Vermont, we didn’t waste time.
I relocated to D.C. while Sydney and Mason finalized the divorce.
Once that was settled, we realized city life didn’t suit us, and we moved close to my mom in the suburbs of Rochester.
Quiet streets and open fields, trails for running, space for Anna to play—everything that felt right for us.
Sydney expanded her family law practice and continued working with domestic violence survivors alongside my mom. I work remotely now, traveling only when necessary.
We’ve settled into a fragile but peaceful co-parenting rhythm with Mason. Anna spends one weekend a month in D.C., and she loves her time with him. He might never be my favorite person, but he’s shown up for Anna this year.
I wrap one arm around Anna and the other around Sydney, pulling them in for a tight hug. “We’ll be okay,” I reassure them both. “You have fun with your dad and everyone here, Bug. And we’ll be back before you know it. We’re staying down the road so your dad will call if you need anything.”
“Is Santa going to bring me a cat?” Anna’s teary eyes go wide and hopeful.
“Ha, good one, kid. No cats.” They both love to tease me about my dislike of cats. “Didn’t you ask Santa for a dog?”
“She sure did.” Sydney smiles. “You’ll get presents here from Santa tomorrow, and he’ll deliver some to our house. Those you can open when we get back. Nana Vera promised to check and make sure a puppy wasn’t locked in a box under the tree.”
“Okay, Mama. Two days until you get me?” Anna slides over to Sydney’s lap.
“Two days.” Sydney kisses the top of Anna’s head. She wipes her eyes and says, “Come on. Let’s go say hi to everyone.”
They get out of the car and walk toward the waiting arms of her dad and grandparents.
Anna, always our little ray of light, turns back, her curls bouncing as she runs straight into Sydney’s arms for one more hug. Sydney holds her tight, whispering into her ear before letting go. Anna puts a hand over her eyes, warding off the sun, and waves to me before skipping into the cabin.
A tumble of curls hurtles down the stairs and tackles Sydney in a massive hug. Jules is the one person who truly understands the complicated, messy choices and who has supported her every step of the way. They laugh and chat their way to the car. Jules salutes me and hustles back inside.
Sydney's eyes are red-rimmed, and her mouth trembles. But she doesn’t hide her pain. She lets me see the highs and lows. No longer swallowing it down, she knows I won’t run when things get hard.
“Let’s go to the resort,” she says, leaning over the center console to press a kiss to my lips.
I thread my fingers through hers and steer us toward the village.
Her face lights up as she figures out where we’re going. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”
“Doesn’t hurt to say it again,” I smirk, and she leans in to kiss the corner of my mouth, her lips finding my dimple.
“I’ll show you properly how much I love you once we check in at the resort.”
And with a wink, she pulls me in through the bookstore doorway.
The store has been transformed into another holiday wonderland. A castle rises from the center of the train table, surrounded by tiny figurines. Elves and fairies, dwarves and knights, are all poised for adventure. It’s whimsical and absurd, and absolutely perfect.
“We’ll bring her here before we leave,” she says, swiping at her eyes. “Anna will love this.”
I live for the days when I can get under her skin and make her eyes flash that thin gold ring. That’s when I know her claws are about to come out. But being the person she turns to for comfort? I hold her face in my hands and let my thumbs wipe away her tears.
“Did you ask Santa for books, or can we pick out some ourselves?” I joke, wrapping her in my arms.
“Careful, or you might find Mr. Whiskers sitting under the tree instead of the puppy.” She flicks my nose and wanders off.
She passes the rows of books, fingers tracing spines, eyes scanning titles, and I can tell her mind is somewhere else. I grab a few books she’ll love. I can’t help it; learning her taste in stories was the first language we ever spoke fluently.
At the register, she looks around, eyes wide, and says, “That’s it?”
“What do you mean?” I play dumb, though I have a good idea. She’s not subtle when she’s holding her breath, waiting for something.
“Are we leaving now?” She scans the shop again, her gaze darting from the train table to the counter.
“Did you want to grab something for Anna?”
“No…No, I’m fine,” she stammers, already turning toward the door.
“Sydney, did you think I was going to propose?” I ask, holding back a Cheshire grin.
She shrugs, eyes dropping to her boots. “The thought crossed my mind.”
I tuck a finger under her chin, tilting her face to mine. “I thought about it,” I confess. “But I knew you’d see it coming. And I want to surprise you. Catch you off guard. Keep you guessing.”
“You’re impossible.”
And I kiss her right there, slow and sure, in the middle of the shop, where anyone can see. No more hiding. No more pretending. I’ll never tire of this, loving her out loud.
“We could skip the whole wedding circus, you know. Just go to the courthouse when we get back. I’d marry you anywhere.”
“Funny you should say that. Should I return this?” I reach into my coat pocket and pull out a small velvet box.
Her eyes go wide as I lower to my knees, not the traditional one-knee pose, but fully down, both knees to the ground, a man in reverence, offering everything I have. Not because I think I need to, but because I want to. Her breath catches, her hands trembling at her sides as I hold out the box.
“Sydney,” I begin, my throat tight, “our road to this moment wasn’t smooth. Hell, sometimes we drove straight off a cliff. But even in the mess, even when we were standing on opposite sides of everything, I knew. I knew we were meant to find our way here. To each other.”
I pause because I want her to see it, the truth in my face, the years in my voice.
“I know you don’t believe in fairy tales, but I promise you this: I will be here with you for every dark and twisty day. For every laugh, every fight, every impossible moment life throws our way. I want all of it.”
A tear falls down my cheek, but I don’t wipe it away. I take a breath before asking, “Will you marry me?”
For a heartbeat, she doesn’t move. Tears fall from her eyes, and she drops to her knees. She kisses me the way a woman kisses a man when every wall has crumbled, when every mask has been stripped away, and there is nothing left but love and truth and the courage to start again.
“I can’t believe you fucking did that,” she laughs, her forehead pressed to mine.
“Is that a yes? I need the words.”
She pulls back, her eyes shining with tears and mischief and joy. “Yes, James Navarro. I will marry you.”
We collapse into each other, laughing and crying, still kneeling in the middle of the store while customers cheer and clap around us.
She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small square box. “I was going to wait until tomorrow to give you this. But since we’re doing public surprises now…”
There’s something in her expression that has me holding my breath. Her fingers linger, trembling just slightly, as she passes me the box.
I untie the ribbon, my hands not as steady as they should be, and I lift the lid. Inside is a sonogram picture.
Our baby.
Sydney’s voice is soft, but her smile is wide and glowing. “You know how I wasn’t feeling great last week? I went to the doctor and… ta-da!” She throws her hands up, a playful, triumphant gesture that makes me laugh through the sting of tears.
I hardly notice the people around us. The cheering fades into white noise.
All I see is her. All I feel is this.
I pull her close, holding her as if she’s the only thing keeping me upright. Maybe she is. Maybe she always has been.
“Are you serious?” My voice cracks.
“Well,” she shrugs, “we have all that space at home. All those bedrooms. Gotta do something with them.”
I laugh, loud and full and so damn happy I don’t even know what to do with it all. We weren’t trying, but we weren’t careful either—and at our age, the odds were long.
Brushing my lips to her ear, I whisper, “I fucking love you.”
In the middle of the bookstore, surrounded by stories and strangers and the smell of paper, I feel the weight of the past dissolve into nothing. Every choice we made, every heartbreak, every fight, every lonely night, led us here.
To this.
To our family and the kind of love you fight for. The kind that doesn't flinch when everything burns and holds each other closer despite the scars.
The best parts of our story are only beginning.