Epilogue
JEN
TWO YEARS LATER
"Do you think we need more lights on the porch?
" I stand back, assessing the magical Christmas land our cabin has become.
Evergreen garlands with twinkling white lights wrap every railing.
A towering pine stands in the corner of the great room, ornaments catching the late afternoon sunlight through the floor to ceiling windows.
Stockings hang from the stone fireplace, including the tiny new one that makes my heart skip every time I see it.
Jared emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "If you add any more lights, they'll be able to see our house from space."
"Perfect." I grin at him. "That's exactly the visibility Santa needs."
He wraps his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on top of my head. "You're nesting."
"I'm decorating for Christmas," I correct, though he's not wrong. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" His hands slide to my rounded belly, cradling the seven month bump that houses our daughter. "Because this is the third time you've rearranged the lights this week."
"I want everything to be perfect for her first Christmas." I cover his hands with mine, feeling the gentle flutter of movement beneath our joined fingers. "Even if she's still on the inside for it."
"She'll have plenty of Christmases in this cabin." He presses a kiss to my temple. "And her mother will undoubtedly go overboard for each one."
"It's not going overboard. It's creating traditions."
His laugh rumbles against my back, warm and familiar. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Calloway."
Two years of marriage, and I still get a little thrill whenever he calls me that. Mrs. Calloway. The fake wife who became a real one on a snowy Christmas Eve night.
So much has changed since then. My graphic design business has expanded, with clients now including several major outdoor brands thanks to Jared's industry connections.
I've published a series of illustrated guidebooks to the Sierra Nevadas that have become bestsellers in the regional tourism market.
And I've completely taken over the upstairs bedroom nearest ours, transforming it into a nursery that's equal parts woodland fairytale and practical baby space.
Jared has changed too. He still runs The Outpost, but now he actually interacts with customers.
Teaches wilderness survival classes twice a month.
Even joined the town's emergency response committee, putting his firefighting experience to use in a way that doesn't trigger the old trauma.
The walls he built around himself have come down brick by brick, revealing the man I always knew existed beneath the gruff exterior.
"What time is everyone arriving?" he asks, reluctantly releasing me to check on whatever amazing thing he's cooking in the kitchen. His hidden culinary talents have become legendary in Whisper Vale, with people regularly bribing me to get his secret venison stew recipe.
"Six." I follow him, snagging a slice of cucumber from the cutting board. "Ridge and Stella are bringing Chellie and the baby. Mason and Destiny are coming with Dr. Matthews. And Chloe threatened to bring her new boyfriend, so prepare for that interrogation."
"Great." He doesn't sound thrilled about the last part. My husband has become surprisingly protective of his employees over the past two years. "I'll have the rifle cleaning kit out."
"You will not." I bump him with my hip or try to. The baby bump makes it more of a belly nudge these days. "You'll be nice to Chloe's boyfriend because she's happy and that's what matters."
"Fine." He pulls a tray of something that smells divine from the oven. "But if he hurts her, all bets are off."
"Noted." I steal a roasted potato from the edge of the tray, earning a mock glare. "What? Your daughter is hungry."
"My daughter, is it? Funny how she's my daughter when you're stealing food but your daughter when she's doing somersaults at two in the morning."
"That's how it works." I pop the potato in my mouth, savoring the rosemary and garlic flavor. "Joint custody, husband. You get the blame, I get the cravings."
His smile is soft, the one reserved just for me. "Seems fair."
The cabin door opens, bringing a blast of cold air and the sound of excited chatter.
"Hello?" Ridge's voice calls out. "Anyone home? We have a freezing three year old who was promised hot chocolate!"
"In the kitchen!" I call back.
Chellie barrels in first, a pint sized tornado in pink snow boots and a puffy coat, her dark pigtails flying. "Aunt Jen! Uncle Jared! Is the baby here yet?"
I laugh, bending awkwardly to hug her. "Not yet, munchkin. She's still growing in my tummy, remember? But she'll be here in about two months."
"Two months is forever." Chellie pouts, then brightens as Jared produces a mug of hot chocolate topped with mini marshmallows.
"Only if you're three," he tells her, earning a giggle.
Ridge and Stella follow more sedately, baby Noah bundled in a carrier against Stella's chest. At six months old, he's all chubby cheeks and curious eyes, taking in the Christmas lights with apparent fascination.
"Let me see my nephew." I make grabby hands toward the baby. Since becoming pregnant, my baby fever has extended to every infant in a ten mile radius. "I need practice."
Stella laughs, unwrapping Noah and passing him to me. "Practice all you want. Especially at three AM when he decides sleep is for the weak."
I settle Noah against my shoulder, inhaling that addictive baby smell. "Hello, handsome. Are you giving your parents a hard time? That's what babies do, you know. It's in the manual."
"Speaking of manuals." Ridge hands Jared a gift bag. "Early Christmas present. You're gonna need it."
Jared pulls out a book titled "Surviving Year One: A Dad's Guide to Not Completely Screwing Up." He snorts. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Hey, I didn't write it. But I have highlighted the relevant parts. Particularly the chapter on diaper blowouts."
"Charming." Jared tucks the book under his arm. "Drinks? Wine for everyone except the pregnant lady and the designated driver?"
"God, yes." Stella collapses onto a bar stool. "Noah decided sleep is an optional activity this week."
As Jared plays bartender and Ridge entertains Chellie, I bounce Noah gently, swaying in the natural rhythm that seems to come instinctively. In just two months, I'll be doing this with our daughter. The thought sends equal parts terror and excitement through me.
"Scared?" Stella asks quietly, noting my expression as she walks over to me.
"Terrified," I admit. "What if I'm terrible at it? What if she hates me? What if I drop her or feed her something wrong or emotionally scar her for life?"
"All normal fears." She pats my arm. "And I can guarantee you'll make mistakes. We all do. But look at you with Noah. You're a natural."
"This is just the cuddly part. What about the rest? The crying and the not sleeping and the constant worry?"
"You'll figure it out." Her gaze drifts to Ridge, who's now spinning Chellie in circles while she shrieks with laughter. "We all do, eventually. Besides, you've got Mountain Man over there. He may look intimidating, but that guy was born to be a dad."
I follow her gaze to my husband, who's now pouring wine and listening intently to something Stella is saying about Noah's sleep schedule.
The thought of Jared with our daughter makes my heart swell.
He's already talking to my belly every night, telling her stories about the mountains and promising to teach her everything from tracking wildlife to identifying edible plants.
"Yeah," I agree softly. "He's going to be amazing."
By the time Mason arrives with Dr. Matthews, followed closely by Chloe and her new boyfriend (a perfectly nice wilderness guide who survives Jared's subtle interrogation with admirable composure), the cabin is filled with conversation and laughter.
Christmas music plays softly in the background.
The fire crackles in the stone hearth. Snow falls gently outside the windows.
It's perfect. Everything I never knew I wanted until Jared Calloway hired me to be his fake wife two Christmases ago.
After dinner, as everyone gathers in the living room for dessert, Jared pulls me aside.
"Come with me for a second?"
I follow him curiously to his workshop, now attached to the main house thanks to the renovation we completed last spring. The space still smells of sawdust and varnish, comforting scents I've come to associate with my husband's creative side.
"Close your eyes," he instructs.
"Jared, if this is another handmade baby toy, I'm going to cry." Pregnancy hormones have turned me into an emotional wreck. Last week I sobbed for ten minutes when he presented me with a set of hand carved wooden animals for the nursery.
"Just close them."
I comply, feeling him guide me forward a few steps.
"Okay. Open."
I blink my eyes open to see the most beautiful cradle I've ever seen.
Made from rich cherry wood with intricate carvings of mountains and forests along the sides.
The same design he carved into the box he gave me our first Christmas together.
The rockers are curved perfectly, designed for smooth movement.
A small mobile hangs above, tiny wooden stars and moons spinning gently.
"Jared." My voice catches. "It's beautiful."
"I've been working on it for months." He runs a hand along the polished wood. "Wanted to get it done before she arrives."
"She's going to love it." I reach for his hand, placing it on my belly where our daughter is currently practicing her gymnastics routine. "Feel that? I think she's saying thank you."
His expression softens as he feels the movement beneath his palm. "Hey there, little one. Your dad made you a place to sleep. Though from the feel of those kicks, you might be too busy for sleeping."