Epilogue Hayes
"Can’t we try just one? Maybe the pink one—or the bunny-shaped balloon?
I mean, she’s okay with Easter eggs. That’s the same shape, just doesn’t float in the air," I ask Elodie quietly, snaking my arms around her waist from behind as she leans forward to peek into Lola’s room.
Together, we watch Lola sleep, Bagel clutched tight, sprawled on her bed beneath the big nap blanket.
Her pink dress is laid out on the chair in the corner. A dress that Elodie made herself.
“I mean, be my guest. She does need to learn. Any meltdowns are your responsibility, though.”
I smile because I have a feeling that Elodie is my mirror, looking on with pure affection. “Our little girl is three,” I remind us.
“Yeah… she is,” Elodie laments.
It’s also my first birthday celebration with Lola.
She had her birthday already, but with it being so close to Easter, we decided to combine the occasions.
Bunnies are her favorite animal, after all.
Last week, a wave of sadness hit me. I’ve missed all of this stuff the last few years.
Elodie noticed my quietness every single time—she always gently placed her arm around me and whispered, "You’re here now.
" Only now will Lola actually begin to remember celebrations.
Hence, why I’m going a little overboard.
Elodie took a stand when I nearly hired a magician—more for me than our daughter, honestly. Who doesn’t love reliving their childhood? Instead, she convinced me a face painter with unicorns was the better bet.
We're keeping it low-key at our house: some kids from daycare and her dance class, plus close family and friends. My mom was here a few weeks back for St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago, and now she has returned and blessed us with another stay.
I’m going to get her own place once an apartment a few floors down becomes vacant.
We are very thankful that my driver drove her to the grocery store because she wanted to inspect avocados herself for a salad she wants to make. Gives us a little breathing space.
Elodie let me hire a caterer for the adults but insisted on spending three hours cutting toddler food into shapes. Apparently, bunny-shaped, crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are essential.
The smell of Elodie’s coconut shampoo invades my senses as she closes the door. I kiss her hair above her ear, then guide her aside and press her gently against the hallway wall.
“Careful there. Lola will wake soon, and we still have things to do,” she purrs. True.
My response is to pull her tighter, the heat between us immediate. “And,” I whisper, my lips brushing her ear, “we don’t need a lot of time… for now.” My heart pounds with anticipation at her closeness.
The sneaky little vixen brings her hand between us to cup my bulge that is hardening. “Ooh, someone wants me.”
“I do. So will you be a good girl and let me take off your panties underneath this dress?” I’m already beginning to drag up the fabric, and she gives me a firm squeeze.
“I mean, it would be a nice de-stressor. There have been so many things to do.” Her voice is sultry.
My nose nestles into her neck. “That sounds promising,” I rasp.
“Uh-huh, just a shame that we have...” Her hips buck into me, causing our middles to touch. “Too many things to do.” She pouts before her finger boops my nose. Her smile straightens, and her rejection stings.
I grin at her as she wiggles out of our bubble. “I’ll get you for that later.”
“Please do,” she says over her shoulder as she heads in the direction of the kitchen. “Plus, don’t you have a ring to find somewhere?” she casually adds as she turns the corner.
My grin falls. “Wait, what?”
I move fast, straight to the kitchen, where Elodie seems to have been waiting for me. She has a wry smile as she leans against the long counter, where, at one end, appetizers are covered, prepared earlier by the caterer.
“What did you say?”
“You know, you and Lola are really cute together. She’s also learning new words every day, so imagine my surprise when she mentioned, what was it…” She brings a finger to her chin. “Ring. Daddy. Box. I believe the sentence was ‘Daddy, ring, Mommy.’”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips as I pinch the bridge of my nose, stifling a laugh. “Clearly, our daughter has not developed secret-keeping skills.”
Elodie shakes her head. “Nope. Also, when she mentioned the ring, then I kind of bribed her with an extra cookie.”
“That’s not playing fair.” I approach her slowly, grinning despite myself.
I stop in front of her, hoist Elodie up onto the counter so she's seated between my legs, and gently place my hands on her hips to steady her.
"And what did her mommy have to say after that?
" I ask. Looking up, I catch her soft smile as her eyes meet mine.
“That she shouldn’t tell you that I know.” She laughs once.
I’m not going to lead us around this playful circle.
“Fine. Let me be more direct. I wanted to respect your pace and have been waiting for a sign. We’ve talked about it before.
What it would mean. How if Lola gets a sister or brother then we don’t want to have too much of an age difference between them.
Those are all indicators. So yes. There is a ring, a box, you, me, a wedding, a marriage. ”
“Oh, am I agreeing to this?” she pretends and teases me.
I shake my head because this woman isn’t going to make it easy.
I would have had a romantic dinner planned for this, but instead, we are about to enter party chaos.
But I think this suits us. Elodie and I have always been about having conversations when planning.
Since we reentered our lives, we have been extra careful not to miss details.
We learned our lesson already. So, asking her to marry me this way might be fitting.
“Elodie,” I firmly state her name. “You are agreeing. I’m asking you to marry me, but I’ll only accept one answer.” Her face softens, and I see her eyes turn misty. I bring the palms of my hands to her cheeks, our gaze fully locked. “Marry me,” I rasp.
She leaves me waiting for a few seconds, but I’m not worried. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Good. We agree.” I smile at her before I slam my mouth onto hers.
A hard, confirming kiss as she hooks her knees around my waist, keeping me locked in as though she’ll never let go.
And she won’t. She smiles and makes that sound that I love when our tongues dust. I break away briefly. “There is a ring.”
She shushes my mouth with hers. “And I’ll love it. But today is about Lola. You can show me later tonight. Let’s enjoy this change just us for a day or two before everybody finds out.”
“Fair enough.” I steal one more peck of a kiss from her. “I love you.”
“I love you, future husband.”
“Want to head to the courthouse next week? During lunch break, instead of grabbing a sandwich?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Ha. Not happening.”
We stay in the embrace and bask in our news for a few minutes. Soft kisses and whispers of nothing.
An hour later, guests fill our living room, while the kids sit at a special table in the corner where two women are painting faces on the little girls and the others decorate eggs.
This is going to go wrong somewhere, I feel it.
Messy, for sure. Then Elodie is going to taunt me with the reminder of having the wrong-colored sofa for kids, which will result in me having a new one delivered ASAP.
“Loving the party vibes,” Savannah compliments in passing, holding up a bottle of something as she heads to where Elodie is busy in the kitchen with Sutton.
“Thanks,” I call out as I finally sink onto the sofa after wrangling the kids to their table and ensuring our family had drinks because apparently watching the kids is their idea of fun.
Elodie’s parents cornered me about grandkids and us living together, but no ring, even though I already asked her dad’s permission.
Now he’s watching the clock. I really need a breather.
“The lack of balloons at a kids' party is a little weird, but I’ll let you go because the 500-dollar bottle of champagne for the adults is a nice touch,” Julian mentions as he finds a spot on the opposite sofa. “We’ll need it when the kids start reaching their sugar high.”
Easton and Foster arrive, chatting with drinks in hand, and find places to sit and join us.
“Is this the place where we watch the insanity unfold? Only for you am I at a kids' party on a Sunday afternoon.” Easton grins cheekily, then huddles in toward the coffee table. “And what are the chances you know if the face painter with a talent for bears is single?” he asks in a low voice.
Chuckling to myself, I’m not surprised. “I don’t know. You can ask her after the party.”
Foster rolls his eyes at Easton’s antics, then brings his gaze to me. “How does it feel to have a three-year-old?”
“Amazing. I kind of wish there were a way for her to stop growing.” In September, she’ll start preschool. Affection fills me to the brim. I’m truly lucky—Lola is the sweetest little girl.
“She sleeps through the night, right?” Foster is curious.
I nod. “Yeah, always has, I think. Only wakes if she’s sick or there’s a storm.”
Julian squints his eyes as he examines across the room. “Prepare yourselves, gentlemen, the ladies are stirring up some drinks.”
We all shoot our gaze in their direction where Elodie appears to doubt what Savannah is mixing, only to shrug her shoulders and grab another glass. My guess is they are heading down the pink mimosa route.
To my side, I notice that Foster is staring at them all in a different way. He’s not in tune, and when I follow his line of sight, it leads me to Sutton, who smiles weakly at Elodie’s side while she holds a plate of food.
Easton draws our attention back. “We know it’s the princess’s big day, but what are the chances that we can turn on the hockey?” He grimaces.
I check on Lola well across the room, and my future wife is far too busy to notice. “Fine. But the game goes off during cake time, present time, and any meltdowns that require calm in the room,” I warn him.
“Deal.”
“The remote is…” I look around me as I stand, my phone vibrating in my pocket. “Somewhere.”
He can figure it out. I quickly pull out my phone and see that it’s the front desk downstairs. Answering, they let me know more dessert has been delivered, and I tell them I will come and get it. Normally, they would bring it up, but I could use a moment to process this day.
“I need to head downstairs real quick. The dessert’s here,” I inform my friends.
Easton and Julian swing their gaze to the dining table, where a giant three-tier tower of carrot cake cupcakes and lemon meringue pies from Everhope are on display.
“You already have dessert,” Julian points out.
“Yeah, then Elodie woke this morning and my mom questioned about the lack of hot cross buns. Elodie freaked out that my mom disapproved and insisted we fix it. I don’t question the process, just made some calls to calm her down,” I explain.
“I’ll join you.” Foster follows. For some reason, I sense he could use a breather, too.
A minute later when the doors to the elevator close, we both sigh from the lack of squealing kids. We lean against the wall and stare forward at the light above the door.
“Never thought I would say hot cross buns better be good. It’s from some up-and-coming bakery. If I’m going to have a lifetime supply of leftover sweet bread in my freezer, then it might as well be worth it.”
“Right.” Foster remains distant, in his own world.
“What’s up with you?”
“It’s Sutton.”
Now I’m curious. I know there was something from a while ago, or it’s something office-related. “What about her?”
“She’s pregnant.”
My eyes nearly pop out. I look at him, and he meets my gaze, eyes piercing.
“She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Guilt floods his face as I wait for his reply.
NEXT
A walk through a small town with Foster— the untouchable man who controls my career—should have meant nothing. I told myself it was just chemistry. Harmless. Temporary.
Back in the city, assigned to the same project, I thought I could stay professional. Deadlines. Meetings. Focus. But every look, every quiet moment, felt deliberate—like he was guiding us back to each other. And somehow, the man everyone feared turned out to be unexpectedly romantic.
Falling into his bed didn’t feel wrong. It felt inevitable.
Until everything changed.
Two pink lines.
Panic should have come first—but it didn’t. It was him. The way he looked at me when I told him. Calm. Certain. Not surprised. Not even a little.
As our lives grow more intertwined, I can’t shake the feeling he knew exactly where this was heading.
But instead of running, I let myself get pulled deeper—into him, into us.
Which is why I never see it coming.
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