Epilogue One - Grace
Today has been a whirlwind of steamed milk, the clink of coffee cups, and the sweet scent of cinnamon swirling through the air of the café.
I dart from one table to the next, as much as I can when my belly is so big it feels like it’s going to burst.
Normally I’m focused on work, but today my mind is already half-way to New York, where later today, Lucas, Stanton, and my sister’s boyfriend, Colton, will play in the semi-finals of the Stanley Cup.
“Are you ready?” my sister, Harlow calls at the doorway, clicking a set of keys in her hand.
Inside the stadium, the energy is palpable as we find our reserved seats. The atmosphere is buzzing, the crowd so loud, the sounds vibrate through the steel and concrete.
Stanton and Lucas warm up on the ice with the rest of the players. I send strength and love through the bond and I know when they turn and smile at me; it reaches them.
“I’m nervous for Colton,” Harlow says. “He’s convinced he’s going to mess up his game.”
Colton’s still a rookie, but after his brother Carver, he’s one of the best players on the ice. “I doubt that.”
The buzzer goes and the game starts.
Soon it becomes a blur of motion—sticks clashing, pucks flying, players skating with a ferocity that matches the pounding of my heart.
By the time the first buzzer goes to end the period, the New York Bears and the Seattle Sharks are locked in a fierce battle, the score too close for comfort.
My heart is racing when the team skates back on the ice. And soon they’re flying as each goal sends the crowd wild with shouting and cheering.
As the seconds tick down to end the last period, the tension is unbearable. The crowd is on their feet as Lucas passes to Stanton, who looks for Carver, because he’s already scored more goals than anyone else tonight.
Stanton dashes down the right-hand side and passes to Colton, who sees his brother is in a perfect scoring opportunity, and crosses the puck to him. And then, in a glorious rush of adrenaline, Lucas roars through the center, and Carver passes to him. Lucas spins on the ice, but he’s blocked. Carver rushes through the defense, taking the puck from his feet. His stick is high and in a flash, he scores another goal.
The stadium erupts with cheers and stamping of feet. I stare at the clock above the ice, watching the seconds tick down.
Minutes later, the buzzer sounds, ending the game.
I’m on my feet, screaming with the rest of them.
The players circle the ice, congratulating not only the crowds and their team but also Seattle for such a brilliant game.
Lucas and Stanton are there amid the players. Their eyes meet mine across the ice. They wave, their smiles wide, and pride swells within me and I send it through the bond.
But as I cheer with the crowd cheers, a sudden warmth spreads down my legs.
“Oh... F…”
Around me, the celebration continues, the crowd oblivious to my predicament. I grip my sister’s arm, and she glances to where my gaze goes.
“Oh my god, I’m going to be an aunt,” she says excitedly.
When I look up, my eyes connecting with Lucas’. His smile falters, his brow furrowing as he reads the situation in my gaze.
Stanton’s reaction is instant; his joyous bond shifts to one of concern, and he pushes through his teammates, skating towards me as fast as he can.
“Okay, okay, we need to get to the hospital,” my sister says. Her voice is calm, the opposite of my sudden nerves.
Lucas and Stanton reach the boards, their hockey sticks forgotten as they climb over to make their way to me.
The sterile white of the hospital room blurs into soft shades of joy as I gaze down at the tiny bundle in Lucas’ arms—a beautiful baby girl with dark blonde hair, like Stanton.
On one side of my hospital bed, Lucas and Stanton sit close, their faces etched with awe and tenderness as they look at our daughter. Lucas adjusts the pink blanket wrapped around her, his fingers careful and cautious, as if he’s handling the most precious treasure in the world—which, along with her brother, he is.
“Love you.” Stanton’s hand is warm on my shoulder, grounding me, as he whispers over and over how proud he is of me.
Lucas takes my hand, squeezing it gently, his smile so wide it crinkles the corners of his eyes.
Stanton reaches out to touch our daughter’s tiny hand. “We did good,” he whispers.
Lucas nods in agreement.
Across the room, Carver holds our son. His usual sour face now looks overwhelmingly happy, like he’s stepping into a dream he’s had for a lifetime.
I’m happy he brought Harlow when Colton wanted to stay back for the press briefing.
My sister was annoyed with her boyfriend, but she looks content as she stands next to Carver, her eyes bright as she tenderly strokes my baby’s foot. “Aren’t you the perfect boy?”
“I’m not too bad,” Carver replies.
Harlow laughs as she pushes her shoulder against him.
“I can’t believe they’re finally here,” I whisper, my eyes flitting between the twins.
Lucas leans closer, his lips brushing my ear. “And they’re perfect, just like their mother,” he says. His voice is a warm whisper that sends shivers down my spine.
The door swings open, and my mother rushes in still wearing her scrubs, having dashed here from her shift. Her dark hair is a bit disheveled, a clear sign of a day spent saving lives, but her energy shifts the moment her eyes land on her grandchildren. Her face transforms with a joy so raw and pure it makes my heart swell.
“Oh, my babies,” she exclaims. Tears are in her eyes as she approaches. “Well done, darling.” She leans down to kiss my forehead, then turns her attention to the twins, cooing softly at them. “Perfect, just absolutely perfect,” she murmurs, her experienced hands gently checking over my baby girl as Lucas carefully hands her over.
Behind her, Henry, Lucas’s father, steps into the room, his usual reserved demeanor softer now. Today his eyes are warm, reflecting a kind of peace I’ve seen only a few times.
His gaze meets Mom’s. There’s a moment that plays silently between them.
He turns away and approaches me with an enormous smile on his face. “Well done, Grace.”
He places a gentle hand on the edge of my bed. “And I’m proud of you, Lucas,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “You too, Stanton. You both fought for what you wanted.”
Lucas swallows and nods, unable to get any words out. I feel so happy for Lucas right now. I know those words mean so much to him.
“Thanks Senator Hilton. It means a lot,” Stanton murmurs.
“Call me Henry, son. You are family now.”
Bardot rushes into the room, making a beeline for me. She has a massive bouquet in her hand, which she plonks on the end of the bed. “Oh, look at you. A mother.” Her eyes land on my daughter. “Do you have names yet?”
I shake my head. “We’re still discussing it.”
“Would you allow me to arrange a family gathering at my Connecticut home? I’d like our families to get together,” Lucas’ dad asks. “You can introduce the babies to everyone. I’ll organize a little party. I promise there will be no political agenda. Just three families getting to know each other.”
I love he is accepting Stanton too. I glance at Lucas and give him a nod of approval.
“Of course. We’d love that,” Lucas replies.
“Thank you,” his dad says and turns to Mom. “Can I hold her?”
Mom smiles as she delicately places our little girl into his arms.
“Welcome to the family.” He strokes a gentle finger over her cheek. “Welcome, all of you. Thank you for giving me another chance at having a family.” His voice cracks and his eyes fill with unshed tears. His gaze flicks at me and then to Stanton and with a respectful nod he says, “And thank you for helping to bring it back together.”