Epilogue
Six Months Later
The ballroom overlooks the Atlantic like a shimmering blue canvas beneath a perfectly pink sunset. I adjust my cuff links as we step through the double doors, my wife at my side.
My wife. Even a month after our re-marriage, the words still fill me with quiet wonder. It was a small, intimate service on the beach, with only Sanders, Lane, and the priest, and it couldn't have been more perfect.
"Dr. and Mrs. Beamer!" Dr. Mitchell waves from across the room, champagne flute raised in greeting.
Lane's arm tightens around mine as we navigate through Cape Fear Regional's finest in their formal wear. The satin of her navy dress catches the light with every step, the fabric flowing gracefully over her rounded belly.
Six months pregnant, and she's never looked more beautiful.
We pause beside a table draped in stars and stripes, and I grab two glasses of sparkling water. My fingers brush against Lane's as I hand her the drink, and I can't help tracing slow circles on her palm with my thumb.
"He would love all of the pomp and circumstance of this, wouldn't he?" I murmur, thinking of Sanders.
Lane laughs, the sound still my favorite melody after all these years. "He would, but you know he and Luke are in hog heaven playing video games all night. Carly lets them stay up much later than we do."
"Luke's family has been so good for him."
"For all of us," Lane corrects me, her eyes soft with memories of Christmas and everything that has happened since.
We found out we were pregnant in late January. It was unexpected, of course, because Lane has been on the pill for years. But it was welcomed all the same. Lane was already five weeks along when she had a hunch and took three at-home pregnancy tests.
Luke is doing great, getting stronger every day. They were back in Wilmington by the beginning of February, and the GoFundMe raised enough to allow Carly to care for him full-time since. She's planning to go back to work once school starts next month.
Across the room, I spot Nate Peck's tall frame moving toward us, his trademark flannel replaced with a tux, grinning like he's got secrets to tell.
Nate strides over and claps me hard on the shoulder, sending a splash of sparkling water over my knuckles.
"Still can't believe you turned down the chief offer," he says, shaking his head with good-natured disbelief. His five o'clock shadow looks almost deliberate with the tux. Somehow, he makes formal wear look rugged. "But I guess it makes sense now."
He jerks his chin to Lane, who is talking to Beth, Nate's wife. Lane's hand rests protectively on our daughter as she laughs at something Beth said. The sight of her, glowing, happy, mine again, makes my chest tighten so hard I think it could burst.
"Yeah. I out-punted my coverage on that one." I sip my Manhattan, tasting nothing but gratitude. A year ago, I would've grabbed that Chief position without a second thought. Another line on my resume. Another notch up the ladder that led nowhere important.
Nate grins and raises his glass. "Guess you finally figured out what matters."
I don't respond right away, watching my wife across the room. The way her dimple flashes when she smiles. The soft curve of her belly beneath satin.
"Took me long enough," I finally admit. "Almost lost everything figuring it out."
As I look up, I catch Lane watching our exchange, her eyes meeting mine. Even at a distance, I can feel the connection between us, stronger now than it ever was.
Lane and Beth join us, her mischievous smile melting me.
"Anyone need a cocktail?" Nate asks.
"Actually, I'm going to walk with you," Beth answers. “I want something, I just don't know what.”
I look at Lane and see that her sparkling water is almost full. "We're good, man. Thanks for the offer."
They stroll off, arm in arm. I pull Lane to me, kissing her on the crown of her head.
"Look at you," Lane smiles, reaching up to straighten my bow tie. "The mighty Dr. Beamer, mingling with the masses."
I catch her hand and press it against my chest. "I'd rather not mingle at all. Come outside with me for a minute?"
She nods, and I guide her through the glass doors onto the balcony. The evening air wraps around us, warm and thick with summer. In the distance, early fireworks pop and fizzle over the coastline, celebrating Independence Day. The fundraiser inside suddenly feels miles away.
Lane moves to the railing, her profile outlined in the soft glow from the ballroom. My heart catches the way it always does now, like I’m still not quite convinced she’s mine again.
“You never told me you turned down the chief job,” she says softly, her eyes on the city lights below. "Beth mentioned it like I knew, so I went along with it. Why didn't you tell me?"
I exhale, running a hand through my hair. How does she always know? “I was offered it right before Christmas. The hospital wanted me to head it up, run the program. But it would’ve meant constant travel, long nights, everything that tore us apart the first time.”
“Before Christmas? That was before we even knew if we could do this. That was before we decided to make it official.”
“I know. But I didn’t want to risk the chance. I'd rather have tried wholeheartedly than to risk losing you again.”
Lane’s throat works. “This would have been big for you, Woody. Maybe we could have figured it out.”
I shrug, watching the way moonlight catches in her eyes. “No, this is exactly big enough for me. You, me, Sanders, our baby girl on the way. That’s all I want.”
She takes my hand and guides it to the soft curve of her belly. A small kick ripples against my palm. My eyes widen, a stupid grin spreading across my face.
“That was…” I trail off, laughing under my breath.
“That’s our sassy girl,” Lane says, her own eyes glistening. “I think she got Maggie’s personality, based on how much she moves.”
The words hit me with a simple, staggering truth. Years ago, I would’ve thought turning down that job meant failure. Tonight, with my hand on our daughter, it feels like the biggest win of my life.
“Good thing I won’t miss a minute of it,” I murmur.
Her fingers tighten around mine. “I love you.”
The lights from the gala spill through the doorway, painting us both in gold. The man who once fled from bedtime stories and vulnerability now stands rooted in both. And for the first time, I know I’ll stay.
Inside, the band shifts into something slower, the melody curling through the air, wrapping around us. I squeeze her hand gently.
“Dance with me?”
“Are you getting fresh with me, Dr. Beamer?”
“Absolutely. But I want a dance first.”
She smiles and pulls me back inside. Moving with her to the music, holding her in public, knowing she’s mine and I’m hers. It’s the one thing I never knew I was missing.
The chandeliers scatter light across her face as she looks up at me. Around us, couples sway and turn, their laughter a soft hum in the background. The only rhythm I notice is hers, her chest rising against mine, the brush of her cheek against my shoulder, the faint gardenia of her perfume.
“I think we finally made it,” she whispers, her breath warm through my shirt.
The sound ripples through me, loosening something I hadn’t realized I was still holding. My grip at her waist tightens, anchoring us both as the music swells. After all the years of breaking apart, here we are. Whole.
I chuckle softly, remembering every step of our broken path that somehow led us here. "You make me a better man, Mrs. Beamer."
No grand speeches pass between us. We don't need them anymore. There's only the quiet certainty in the way her body leans into mine, the press of our daughter between us, the knowledge that I've finally learned how to stay.
My thumb traces small circles on her lower back as we turn in slow revolution beneath the shimmer of lights.
This moment is sacred, not because it's special, but because it's normal. Because I'm here for it, fully present.
If you loved the small town, second-chance vibe with a hunky doctor, make sure to check out the next in the series, Christmas Challenge With Dr. Rescue. It’s guaranteed to knock your socks off—and maybe more….