44. Epilogue
Epilogue
Three Months Later
The faint scent of lemon polish, mingling with the musk of old books, lingers in the oak-paneled courtroom. The smell is burned into my memory. It will always belong to this day.
Sunlight filters through tall windows, spilling uneven rectangles across the benches.
Lennon swings his legs beside me, his black dress shoes a little too stiff for his taste, but he's being a trooper. His thumb and forefinger worry the azabache so intently I half expect it to grind down to dust.
The morning has already stretched with formalities. Warren confirmed the petition, Dana Black delivered her report, and I answered every question about Lennon’s school, his doctor visits, and his nightmares.
The judge thanked us, shuffled the files, and now, finally, he looks down from the bench, glasses slipping lower on his nose.
“One more question before I issue my ruling. Where do you intend to make your permanent residence with Lennon?”
“I’ve purchased a home on the Battery in Charleston,” I said.
“Sloane is already living there, and Lennon is registered to begin third grade in Charleston this August. Lennon and I will be moving there permanently at the end of the summer. My next hospital project is in Mt. Pleasant, just across the bridge from downtown Charleston.”
The judge nods once, then glances at Warren. “And the prior employment/relationship guardrails? This court previously required live-out care and no romantic relationship during the guardianship.”
Warren rises. “For the record, Your Honor: Ms. Brennan’s employment ended in September.
A replacement nanny began the next morning.
Since that date, Ms. Brennan has not been employed by Mr. Carrigan in any capacity.
Their personal relationship resumed months later, after the emergency matters concluded.
We’ve submitted letters from Elite Nanny Services confirming the separation of employment and from Ms. Brennan’s current employer documenting her independent role.
In Charleston, the plan provides school-based after-care.
Ms. Brennan will not be in a paid childcare role. ”
The judge turns to the guardian ad litem. “Ms. Black?”
Dana Black folds her hands. “Confirmed, Your Honor. I reviewed the timeline and conducted multiple home visits. There are no boundary concerns. Lennon is thriving. The Charleston plan is appropriate and stable.”
“Noted for the record,” the judge said, returning to the file.
He shuffles another stack of papers and says something under his breath to the court reporter.
“Mr. Carrigan,” he says, voice steady. “The court finds that you have provided a safe, stable, and nurturing home for Lennon López. Guardianship has been consistent for nearly ten months. The guardian ad litem reports positive development, excellent care, and a strong father-child bond.”
Sloane squeezes my hand under the table. My pulse hammers, but I keep my eyes on the bench.
The judge clears his throat. “Therefore, it is the ruling of this court that your petition to adopt is granted. Effective immediately, Lennon López shall be known legally as Lennon López Carrigan.”
For a second, the words hang in the air. My chest tightens, vision blurring. Lennon turns to me, necklace glinting, and whispers, “So I’m yours now? For real?”
I pull him into my arms.
“For real, buddy. Forever.” My voice cracks on the last word.
The judge smiles faintly before rapping his gavel. “Congratulations, Mr. Carrigan and Lennon.”
Applause breaks out behind us. Valerie dabs her eyes, and Hart gives me a sharp nod. Dana Black smiles warmly before packing her messenger bag and walking out.
Warren lingers near the aisle as people file out. He shakes my hand firmly. “Congratulations, Pope.”
Then he glances at Sloane with a polite smile. “I’m glad to see everything worked out.”
“Me, too, Warren. Thank you for all you did,” Sloane says, her voice warm as she hugs him briefly.
Outside, the air is crisp, and sunlight bounces off the marble steps. A few people stream past, but there are no cameras, no reporters. Val and Hart had to run to the car, leaving just the three of us.
"I’m Lennon López Carrigan!” he shouts, darting down the steps with his arms stretched like airplane wings.
Sloane laughs with him, her hair catching the light. God, she’s beautiful. My chest aches watching her. She deserves more than thank-yous. She deserves the world.
And I want to give it to her.
I reach into my jacket pocket, fingers brushing the teal velvet box that’s burned a hole there all morning. My throat tightens.
“Sloane.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. She turns, brows lifted.
I step closer, pulling out the box, flipping it open, and dropping to one knee. The ring gleams in the winter sun, simple and perfect. “He’s not the only one I want to make a Carrigan today. Marry me.”
Her lips part, breath catching. “Pope?—”
“I don’t want to waste another second pretending I don’t need you. You’ve been it from the start.” My chest heaves. “I love you. Will you be my wife?”
For a heartbeat, the world holds still. Then her eyes shine with tears, and she nods, whispering, “Oh my god.”
Her hands fly to her mouth, clasped together like a prayer. “Yes. Yes!”
An overwhelming relief floods me. After I slip the ring onto her finger, she throws her arms around my neck. I kiss her, tasting salt and sunlight and every promise we’ve been too stubborn to make until now.
“Does this mean you’re part of our family now?” Lennon’s voice pipes up behind us.
We break apart, laughing. Sloane crouches, pulling him close. “If that’s okay with you.”
He nods hard, eyes shining. “Yeah, it is. I still have my mom with me. But I get you and Pope, too. That’s even better.”
Her tears spill over, and I bend down too, wrapping both of them into me. My family. Complete.
A Week Later
On the Battery in Downtown Charleston, the harbor wind whips cool and briny against my face. Lennon runs ahead, climbing one of the old cannon mounts, shouting something about being captain of the fort.
Sloane leans on the railing beside me, hair blowing wild in the salt air. My arm fits naturally around her waist. For the first time in months, there’s no weight on my chest. Just this. Her. Him. Us.
“Pope,” she says, her voice soft but steady.
“Yeah?” I tilt my head toward her, brushing my thumb across her hip.
“There’s something I have to tell you.” Her eyes meet mine. They're bright, but I can tell she's nervous to say whatever it is on her mind.
My stomach tenses. “What is it?”
She takes my hand and guides it to her stomach, pressing my palm flat against her. “I’m three months pregnant.”
The ground shifts beneath me. I blink at her, my throat tight. “You’re serious? Have you known for a while?”
"Everything was so busy, my job, our new whirlwind, you buying a house here, the upcoming adoption.
I hardly noticed I missed my period. I had my annual visit yesterday morning.
When the doctor asked when my last period was, I had to do the math.
When the bloodwork came back, she did an ultrasound right then, and there's no denying it. Pope, we're having a baby."
"Why didn't you tell me yesterday, when you found out?"
"I wanted to wait until you and Lennon flew in, so I could tell you in person."
A year ago, I couldn't imagine a relationship. Now, I'm a father to my half-brother, with another on the way. Holy shit.
I'm going to be a dad.
"Three months?"
She nods, biting her lip through a watery laugh. “Charleston. That night.”
My knees give. I sink in front of her, both hands splayed across her stomach, palms spanning the small life growing there. “Jesus, Sloane.” My voice cracks. “You gave me Lennon. And now… now we’re having another.”
Her laugh breaks into a sob as she smooths her hand over my hair.
I press my forehead to her belly, then look up at her through the blur. “You’re mine. Both of you. All of you.”
"We're yours, Pope. Our family."
“By the time school starts, we’ll all be settled in Charleston together,” I say, my hands still spread across her stomach. "And we will be a family of four by the holidays."
"Yep," she says, leaning in to kiss me. "A family of four."
Lennon bounds back, cheeks flushed. “What’s going on? Why are you crying, Pope? Is your tummy okay, Sloane?”
I pull him into me, one arm around his shoulders, the other still anchored to Sloane. “Sloane has a baby in her tummy. You're going to be a big brother.”
His eyes widen. “Like, we’ll have a baby in the house? A real baby?”
“Yep,” Sloane says, kissing the top of his head. "A real baby."
He leans against me, quiet for a second, then grins. “That means I’ll get to teach them stuff. Like about shark teeth and hermit crabs.”
Sloane laughs through her tears. “You can teach him, or her, everything.”
I hold them both tighter, my chest breaking wide open. For years, success meant closing deals, flipping hospitals, winning boardrooms.
But none of that compares to this. Sloane’s hand in mine, Lennon pressed against my side, and the weight of another life beginning between us.
This isn’t temporary. This isn’t strategy.
This is my family.