Epilogue
HAYES
The cake tasting was supposed to be a fun, relaxed event. Dixie, Frankie, Isaac, Hudson, Diana, and I were all seated around a beautifully decorated table at our wedding venue, surrounded by an array of cakes that looked almost too good to eat.
Almost.
Dixie was thirty-nine weeks pregnant, and while she was radiant as ever, she was also visibly uncomfortable. She kept shifting in her chair, trying to find a position that didn’t make her back ache or her legs go numb. Comfortable was a state she hadn’t been able to achieve for weeks now, but she was handling it like a champ.
I had bought every pregnancy pillow on the market in an attempt to help her. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. The baby was sitting low and seemed to have a fondness for keeping a foot on her bladder.
“This one is bland,” Frankie said, pushing away a plain vanilla cake.
Diana wrinkled her nose. “It tastes like a wedding cake.”
Dixie laughed. “That’s kind of the goal.”
“But you don’t have to have a boring wedding cake for your wedding,” Diana said.
Dixie leaned back in her chair, her hand resting on her round belly, her engagement ring catching the light as she moved. “I think I want something simple,” she said. “Elegant. Not too fussy. Maybe a classic white cake with fresh flowers.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “A plain cake? That’s it? No layers, no flavors, no fillings? Are you out of your mind? Think of your guests.”
“It’s not just a plain cake,” Dixie shot back, her tone playful but defensive. “It’s timeless. And it’ll pair well with the rest of the decor. I want the focus to be on the ceremony, the vows, the people—not the cake.”
Hudson leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I get that, but come on, this is your wedding. You’re supposed to go all out. Why not do something fun? With as many weddings as our family has been having, I think we would love something exciting.”
I reached for one of the plates to sample one of the other offerings. The venue owners had gone all out for us. They were thrilled to be hosting a Bancroft wedding. The wedding was still a year away, but we were trying to get as much done before the baby came. We were both ready to devote all our time to the little rugrat. We were prepared for sleepless nights and busy days. Knocking out as much of the wedding planning as we could was our goal.
“I think this is my favorite,” I said after the first bite. “Definitely.”
It was a death by chocolate raspberry cake, which was rich, decadent, and absolutely delicious. Diana nodded in agreement.
I slid the rest of the slice over to Dixie to try. “You’ll like this,” I said. “I know you and your love of chocolate.”
She laughed. “But not everyone likes chocolate. Mine is the safe bet.”
“Boring,” Hudson said.
Dixie had just taken a bite. Her eyes closed in bliss as she savored the flavor, when she suddenly froze.
Frankie, sitting across from her, noticed immediately. “Not a fan of the raspberry?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.
I looked at Dixie, then Frankie. “What? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Dixie said. She took a bite of the cake. “This is really good.” Her voice was a little higher than normal.
I frowned, watching her closely. “Dixie, are you sure you’re okay?”
She waved me off, taking another bite of cake. “I’m fine. Just a weird pain. Probably the baby sitting on a nerve or something. Remember at my last appointment?”
Frankie raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “A weird pain, huh? Where?”
Dixie gestured vaguely to her hips. “In my back. Hip. It’s nothing.”
Isaac, who had been quietly enjoying his cake, looked up. “Weird pains at thirty-nine weeks pregnant? Sounds like labor to me.”
Dixie shot him a glare. “It’s not labor. I’m not due for another week. I don’t have any of the other symptoms the doctor warned us about,” she said.
Hudson chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Babies don’t exactly follow due dates, you know.”
Diana nodded. “Nope. My friend was dilated to six before she even realized she was in labor. Baby was born thirty minutes after they got to the hospital.”
“I hope that happens to me.” Dixie laughed. “I want it nice and quick.”
I watched her a few more seconds. She seemed mostly normal. It was hard to say these days. She was constantly squirming or pacing or stretching.
“Should I call the doula?” I asked her.
“No. I’m fine. I want to eat more cake. And then we’re supposed to look at the ideas for flower arrangements.”
“Alright, alright,” I said.
Dixie reached for a slice of yellow cake but winced. I could see the tension in her shoulders. She was in denial, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she was scared or because she really didn’t want to miss out on the cake tasting.
“I’ll get it.” I stood and picked up the slice of yellow cake, carefully placing it in front of her.
She smiled up at me, but it was tight, forced. Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up her fork. I didn’t miss the way she hesitated before taking a bite, her eyes darting around the table as if she were trying to distract everyone from what was really happening.
“Dixie, seriously. You don’t look okay. You’re sweating.” Isaac pointed out.
“I’m fine,” Dixie repeated, her voice firmer this time. “It’s just hot in here. And I’m huge. Of course I’m sweating.”
“If you’re in labor, you’re about to get a whole lot less huge.”
Dixie glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. She shifted in her chair again, her hands gripping the edge of the table as another wave of pain—or whatever it was—hit her. This time, she couldn’t hide it. Her face twisted, and she let out a soft groan.
“That’s it,” I said. “Was that a contraction?”
She shook her head, her jaw clenched. “No, it’s not. It’s just… Braxton Hicks. False labor. It’ll pass. I need water. The doctor said to drink cold water.”
“I’ll get some,” Diana said and hopped up.
I watched Dixie closely. She was trying so hard to brush it off, but I could see the tension in her face, the way her fingers gripped the edge of the table as if she were bracing herself against something. She’d always been stubborn, but this was pushing it.
Diana returned with a glass of ice water, setting it down in front of Dixie. “Here,” she said, her voice soft. “Drink up.”
Dixie nodded, her hands still trembling as she reached for the glass. She took a long sip, her eyes closing briefly. For a moment, it seemed like the tension in her shoulders eased. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“See? Fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just hormonal and huge. That’s all.”
Frankie leaned forward, her expression serious. “Dixie, if you’re in labor, you need to say something. This isn’t something you can tough out.”
“I’m not in labor,” Dixie snapped, her voice sharper than I’d heard it in weeks. Then, as if to prove her point, she picked up her fork and took another bite of cake. “This is just normal pregnancy pains.”
“You’re being a baby,” Frankie said. “You’ve known this was coming. Why are you trying to pretend it’s not happening? We can bring the cake with us.”
Dixie glared at her sister, but before she could respond, another contraction hit. This one was stronger, and she let out a low groan, her hand flying to her stomach.
“Okay,” I said, standing up. “We’re going to the hospital.”
Dixie shook her head, her face pale but determined. “No, we’re not. I’m fine. It’s just a really intense Braxton Hicks.”
Isaac snorted. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”
Hudson stood, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get the car.”
Diana smiled. “Dixie, sweetheart, I think it’s time to go. Better safe than sorry. They’ll check you, and if it looks like nothing more than false labor, they’ll send you home.”
Dixie looked around the table, her eyes wide. “But the cake! We haven’t even tried the lemon raspberry one yet!”
Frankie stood, grabbing Dixie’s purse. “I’ll pack up some cake for you. You’re not giving birth in a wedding venue.”
Dixie groaned, another contraction hitting her. “Fine. But when it turns out to be nothing, I’m going to say I told you so.”
I helped her to her feet, my heart pounding with excitement and nerves. “Our baby is coming,” I said. “This is it. I can feel it. It’s our baby’s birthday.”
She looked up at me, her eyes big. “I’m not surprised it was tempted out by cake.”
“Just like mama.” I kissed her forehead. “You’re ready. You’ve got this.”
We made our way to the car, Dixie leaning on me as another contraction hit. Frankie followed behind us, carrying a box of cake, while Isaac and Hudson argued over who was going to drive.
“I’m driving,” Hudson said, his tone firm. “I’ve done this before.”
Isaac rolled his eyes. “You drive like a maniac. I’m driving.”
Diana stepped in, her voice calm but authoritative. “Hayes is driving. End of discussion. We will follow behind you guys.”
I helped Dixie into the passenger seat before climbing into the driver’s side. Frankie hopped into the back, holding the box of cake like it was a precious artifact.
The rest of them jumped in Hudson’s car. Dixie was breathing through contractions while Frankie tried to distract her.
“Here,” Frankie said, holding out a forkful of lemon raspberry cake. “Try this. It looks amazing.”
Dixie took a bite, her face lighting up despite the pain. “Oh my God, that’s good.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. “Only you, Dixie. Only you would be in labor and still focused on cake. I don’t think you’re supposed to be eating.”
She grinned. “Priorities, Hayes. Priorities. I’m not letting that cake go to waste. And I’m going to need all the energy I can get soon.”
When we finally arrived at the hospital, the nurses took one look at Dixie and whisked her away to the birthing suite we had reserved. I followed close behind, my heart racing. This was really happening.
“Let me know and I’ll start making the calls,” Frankie said.
Dixie nodded, gripping my hand tightly as the nurse helped her into a hospital gown. “Tell everyone but not until we’re sure it’s real,” she said between breaths. “I don’t want a bunch of people showing up here if it’s still just false labor. That would be so embarrassing.”
“You’re having contractions every five minutes,” I said. “It’s real.”
“I’ll believe it when I see the head,” Dixie muttered, though her face contorted again as another wave of pain hit. She let out a low moan, squeezing my hand so hard I thought she might break it.
The nurse checked her vitals, then smiled warmly. “Looks like you’re well on your way, mama. Let me get the doctor in here to check your progress.”
“Call the doula,” I told Frankie. She nodded and walked out to make the call.
As the nurse left the room, Dixie leaned back against the pillows, her breathing labored. “Hayes,” she said, her voice shaky. “What if I can’t do this?”
“You can,” I said firmly. “You’re going to rock this. You can squeeze my hand, curse at me, do whatever you need.”
She managed a smile, but it quickly faded when the strongest contraction yet hit.
The next few hours were a blur of contractions, breathing exercises, and Dixie cursing my name. But through it all, she was incredible—strong, determined, and beautiful. The doula helped her along, right beside the nurses and medical staff.
And then, finally, our baby was born.
I held our son in my arms, tears streaming down my face as I looked at Dixie. “You did it,” I said, my voice trembling. “He’s perfect.”
Dixie smiled, her eyes filled with love. “We did it.”
I kissed her forehead, my heart swelling with pride and gratitude. “I love you, Dixie. So much. I’m in complete awe of you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
I gently swayed with my son cradled in my arms. I didn’t know it was possible to love anyone as much as I did in that moment, just me and my beautiful family.
***