Epilogue Victor
The first blush of dawn is just tinting the frosted windows when I slip out from under the duvet, careful not to wake Avery. The cold bites at my toes as I pad across the wooden floor, but the excitement bubbling in my chest keeps the chill at bay. In the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon rolls fills the air, sweet and warm, a contrast to the icy patterns on the glass.
"Morning," Avery murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she shuffles into the room, a cascade of bed-tousled hair framing her face. Her eyes are barely open, but there's a soft smile on her lips that tells me she's already sensed the day's special aura.
"Hey, sleepyhead." I hand her the mug of hot chocolate I've been keeping warm. "Merry Christmas. "
She wraps her hands around the cup, the steam fogging up her glasses for a moment before she takes them off to wipe them clean. "You didn't have to do all this," she says, but the glint in her eye tells me she's glad I did.
"Of course I did," I reply, leading her towards the living room where the tree stands sentry. We settle on the couch, the only sound the gentle hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and the faint crackle of the fire I'd stoked earlier.
I pass her a plate of breakfast – eggs, bacon, and those cinnamon rolls that now seem even more enticing. She dives in, and we eat in companionable silence, the kind you can only share with someone you're wholly comfortable with.
"Look at the tree," I say after we've polished off our plates, nodding toward the twinkling lights and the myriad of handmade ornaments that Olivia had insisted on placing front and center. "It's perfect."
Avery leans into me, her shoulder warm against mine. "It's beautiful," she agrees, her gaze lingering on a paper angel Olivia had crafted with an excess of glitter and enthusiasm. "She did a good job."
"Best tree I've ever seen,” I declare, and it's no exaggeration. There's something about the haphazard way the decorations are arranged, each with its own story, that makes it feel like more than just a festive display. It's a tapestry of our little family, just the three of us, finding our way together.
Outside, the world is waking up, but inside it's just us, sipping hot chocolate and basking in the glow of a Christmas morning that feels like it was years in the making, yet somehow arrived right on time.
I reach for Avery's hand, the warmth from her skin seeping into mine. The glow of the Christmas lights dances across her face, casting shadows that play upon her features, softening them even more. I squeeze her hand lightly, finding courage in her touch.
"Can I tell you something?" My voice is barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the serenity of the moment.
"Of course," she whispers back, her thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand.
"This... all of this." I gesture vaguely at the room—the tree, the stockings hung with care, the remnants of our breakfast still on the table. "It feels like some dream. Like any second, I'll wake up and..." I shake my head, not wanting to finish the thought.
Avery tilts her head, studying me with those deep, understanding eyes. "But you're not dreaming, Victor."
"I just hope I never wake up from it," I continue, ignoring the lump forming in my throat. "I love you. And Olivia... You've both made me the happiest guy alive."
For a moment, there's silence. It's as if the entire world has paused, holding its breath, waiting for her response. Then, Avery leans closer, her breath warm against my cheek.
"I love you too." Her words are simple, but they punch straight through to my core, lighting a fire in my chest that burns brighter than the Christmas lights could ever hope to. Avery smiles, squeezes my hand, and in that instant, the fire crackles to life, warming every inch of me from the inside out.
The stairs creak and my head swivels towards the sound. Olivia’s sleepy face peeks around the corner, her hair a wild tangle of Christmas morning excitement. Avery's eyes light up, the same spark I've come to adore reflected in her daughter.
"Morning, sleepyhead," I chuckle, watching as Olivia rubs the sleep from her eyes before she spots the tree, suddenly wide awake.
"Did Santa come?" she asks, more a statement than a question as her gaze falls upon the mound of gifts.
"Looks like he did." I can't help but grin at her enthusiasm.
"Let's see what you got," Avery encourages, and I nod in agreement.
Olivia bounces over, snatching the first gift with her name on it. Avery's wrapping is always impeccable, neat folds and crisp edges. She tears into it, revealing a set of watercolor paints that make her squeal with delight.
"Thanks, Mommy!" She wraps her arms around Avery, then turns to me with eager eyes. "And this one’s from Victor?"
"Go ahead." I gesture to the package I wrapped myself—corners not quite as sharp, tape visible here and there.
She unwraps a book, the cover showing a young girl skating on a frozen pond. The title reads, "The Ice Princess" and Olivia's already thumbing through the pages.
"Wow, it's about a girl who learns to skate! Can we read it together?" She looks up at me, her smile infectious.
"Of course," I say, my heart swelling. "Whenever you want."
"Your turn, Chestnut." I shift my gaze to her, pushing a small, neatly-wrapped box across the carpet.
"Victor, what is this?" Her voice carries a note of playful suspicion as she picks up the gift.
"Open it and see."
Avery peels back the paper to reveal a small wooden box. She lifts the lid and inside, nestled on a velvety cushion, is a tiny ice skate charm made of silver, so detailed you could almost lace it up.
"Victor..." She breathes out, her fingers tracing the delicate craftsmanship.
"It's because of you... I found my way back to the ice, to something that once brought me joy. You and Olivia brought that back to me." My words feel raw and sincere as I watch her reaction.
"Victor, it’s beautiful. Thank you." She reaches out, finding my hand and giving it a squeeze.
"Hey, I figured every artist needs a muse, right? And you're mine. Both of you." I nod towards Olivia, who's now admiring her new paints.
"Best Christmas ever," Avery murmurs, leaning against me with the kind of trust I never knew I'd earn. But here she is, and here we are—a family, and somehow, it's all real.
"Alright, Victor, now it's your turn," Avery announces, her eyes shining with a mix of mischief and excitement. She doesn't reach for the tree but stands up, brushing pine needles off her pajama pants. "But you'll have to come with me."
"Okay..." I say, my curiosity piqued as I follow her lead. Olivia jumps up too, a knowing grin on her face.
We shuffle into the den, the room cooler than the living area warmed by the morning cheer and Christmas lights. Avery moves to the closet, pushing aside coats and reaching deep inside. There's a scrape of something being dragged, and then she emerges holding one edge of a large, shapeless form covered by a dusty drop cloth.
"Here it is," she says, her voice slightly shaky, betraying the calm demeanor she's putting on.
I step closer, eyeing the mysterious object. "What's this? "
"Your gift," she replies simply, standing back to give me space.
"Can I?" I ask, gesturing toward the cloth.
"Of course," she nods.
With a slight tremor in my fingers—a cocktail of anticipation and nerves—I grasp the fabric. It slides off easily, fluttering to the floor and revealing the gift beneath it.
My breath catches. It's the mosaic Avery had been working on, her passion project. But it's no longer just a collection of tesserae; it's complete. The colors are vibrant, the image clear and alive. It's them, Avery and Olivia, their smiles captured in glass and stone, so life-like I nearly expect them to laugh out loud. But, it's not just the two of them anymore. Standing with them is me. And there we are, all three of us, depicted in front of the house that has become more home than any place I've ever known.
"Wow," escapes my lips before I can form any coherent thought. My eyes trace over the details, each tiny piece a testament to the hours, days, the care put into it.
"Look closer," Avery prompts.
And I do. There's something in Avery's hands within the mosaic, a detail I almost missed. A tiny, intricate design nestled in her palm—another piece of this beautiful puzzle. I'm trying to make out what it is, squinting to see the minute parts making up the whole .
"Is that... what I think it is?" My finger hovers over the tiny image in the mosaic, a mirror to the one Avery is holding. It's the unmistakable shape of an ultrasound photo. Heart pounding, I swivel to her, seeking confirmation.
She nods, a tidal wave of emotion crashing across her features. "Yes, we're... I'm pregnant."
I'm stunned into silence. There's a buzzing in my ears as if the world is receding and all that remains is Avery, her smile, and the monumental truth she just shared. Olivia is grinning wide, her eyes sparkling with mischief and delight; complicit in the secret now unveiled.
"Really?" The word is half choked, caught in the sudden tightness of my throat.
"Really." Avery's voice is soft but firm, a tether pulling me back from the dizzying edge of disbelief.
In two strides, I close the distance between us, my arms wrapping around Avery, lifting her off the ground. Our lips meet in a kiss that seals every unspoken promise. Olivia's laughter peals through the room, and she throws her small arms around us both, completing the circle.
"God, I love you both so much." I set Avery back on her feet, but keep her close, our foreheads touching. Tears well up, unbidden, spilling over. "You've given me a home, a family. You've made me the happiest man alive. "
"Victor," Avery whispers, her own eyes glistening. "We love you too. We are your family." Her hand finds mine, squeezing tight.
And in this moment, cradled in the warmth of their embrace, everything I've ever lost or yearned for feels restored and fulfilled. I have found where I truly belong.
Olivia's tug at my sleeve is gentle, but insistent. I blink away the last of my tears and look down at her. The sheer gravity in her ten-year-old eyes makes me kneel before her, bringing us to eye level.
"Victor," she starts, "there’s one more thing. My gift." Her small hands hold out an envelope, slightly crinkled from being clutched too tight.
"Olivia?" I ask, glancing at Avery, who nods encouragingly. My fingers fumble with the flap, pulling out the contents. Inside are papers—documents—and a photograph. I unfold them slowly, my heart thudding against my chest.
"Mommy helped me," Olivia explains, her voice barely above a whisper. "We found them, Victor. Your family."
The photo is old, faded—a group of people I've never met, but whose features echo familiarly in the lines of my own face. Birth certificates, addresses, letters—they cascade through my trembling fingers.
"Whenever you're ready," Olivia continues, "we can go see them... together."
"Family isn't just blood, though," Avery chimes in softly. "But it's part of your story, and we want to be there for all of it."
"God... I..." Words fail me; they seem too small for this.
I pull them both into an embrace, feeling the weight of years of unanswered questions begin to lift. "You two... you're the most extraordinary gifts life could have ever given me." I hold them tighter, our shared warmth a testament to the love we've built. "Thank you for making me whole."
And as we stand there, clinging to each other amidst the torn wrapping paper and ribbon, I know that this is what true happiness feels like. It's not just in finding where you come from, but in knowing where you belong. And I belong here, with these two incredible beings who have chosen me as much as I've chosen them.
The End.