Epilogue
One Year Later
Dawn broke over the Amalfi Coast in a symphony of pinks and golds, painting the Mediterranean with brushstrokes that transformed the water from midnight blue to burnished copper. From the balcony of their cliffside villa, Raven watched the day begin, her silk robe whispering against her skin as the gentle breeze carried the intoxicating scents of lemon blossoms and salt-kissed air.
She rested her hands on the swell of her belly, five months of miracle growing beneath her touch. The baby—their baby—stirred, a gentle flutter like butterfly wings that never failed to make her breath catch. This new life represented everything they’d nearly lost, everything they’d fought to reclaim.
“There you are.” Wyatt’s voice came from behind her, warm with sleep and something deeper, something that still made her heart skip even after all these years. “I reached for you and found cold sheets.”
He wrapped his arms around her, his chest solid against her back, hands covering hers over their growing child. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her spine anchored her to this moment, this perfect slice of peace they’d carved from chaos. He nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear, and she leaned into him, accepting his warmth, his strength, his love.
“The sunrise was calling to me,” she murmured, lacing her fingers with his. “And this little one was restless.”
“Already an early riser,” Wyatt said with quiet wonder, splaying his fingers across the curve of her belly. His wedding band caught the first rays of sunlight, gleaming against her skin. “Just like her mother.”
“Her?” Raven smiled, turning in his arms to face him, drinking in the sight of him in the morning light—tousled hair, green eyes still soft with sleep, the shadow of stubble along his jaw. The tattoos that covered his arms told the story of where he’d been; the tenderness in his eyes told the story of where they were going. “You sound certain.”
“Just a feeling,” he replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile. The lines around his mouth had softened over the past year, the constant vigilance replaced by a peace that suited him far better than caution ever had. “But boy or girl, this child is already the most loved in all of Italy.”
Raven stood on tiptoe to kiss him, a slow, sweet meeting of lips that held promises fulfilled and others yet to be made. When they parted, she stayed in the circle of his arms, fitting perfectly as she always had, as she always would.
“Do you remember what you promised me that first night we arrived?” she asked, her cheek against his heart, listening to its steady rhythm.
His arms tightened around her. “That this would be our new beginning. That we’d create memories to sustain us through whatever the future holds.”
“You’ve kept that promise,” she whispered. “These two weeks in Italy…they’ve been perfect, Wyatt.”
And they had been. Days spent exploring ancient villages, their footsteps echoing on cobblestones that had withstood centuries. Nights spent rediscovering each other in a bedroom where moonlight spilled across tangled sheets and whispered confessions. Morning swims in the crystal waters, afternoon naps in the shade of olive trees. Laughter and hard conversations beneath star-scattered skies. Their first real vacation in years had become exactly what they needed—a brief respite before returning to their lives in Laurel Valley, where Wyatt’s position at the DEA and Raven’s thriving boutique awaited them, along with the nursery they’d begun preparing for their child.
“Dance with me,” Wyatt said suddenly, taking her hand and leading her to the center of the terrace where the sunrise painted the stones gold.
“There’s no music,” she laughed, even as she moved into his arms, swaying gently to a rhythm only they could hear.
“There’s always music when I’m with you,” he replied, one hand at the small of her back, the other holding hers over his heart. “The sea against the cliffs. The wind through the lemon trees. The beat of our hearts together.”
As they moved together in the golden morning light, Raven thought of the journey that had brought them here—not the struggles or the pain, but the unwavering certainty that had eventually guided them home to each other. The love that had been there all along, from blue crayons shared in kindergarten to this moment, dancing on a terrace in Italy with their child growing between them, a precious souvenir they’d bring back to Laurel Valley when their vacation ended.
“What are you thinking about?” Wyatt asked, his voice a gentle rumble beneath her ear.
“How lucky we are,” she answered, looking up at him. “How perfectly, improbably lucky.”
The baby chose that moment to make its presence known with a definitive kick that made them both laugh with delight.
“I think someone agrees,” Wyatt said, his palm warm against the spot where their child had moved. His eyes, when they met hers, held a depth of emotion that stole her breath. “I love you, Raven O’Hara. More today than yesterday, less than tomorrow.”
“Is that a promise?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“It’s more than that,” he said, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face with infinite tenderness. “It’s a certainty.”
As the sun rose higher, casting their shadows long across the terrace, Raven thought of rivers—how they changed course over time, weathered storms, carved new paths, but always, always found their way forward. Their love was like that, she realized. Not static or fragile, but living and resilient, constantly renewing itself.
When Wyatt’s lips found hers again, she surrendered to the moment completely—this perfect point in time when the future stretched before them boundless with possibility, when their hearts beat in perfect harmony, when love was not just a feeling but a choice they made every day.
Here, in the warmth of the Italian sun, with the man she’d loved all her life and the child they’d created together, Raven knew a peace that transcended understanding. It wasn’t the absence of challenges that made life beautiful, but facing them together—two hearts, one journey, forever.