Epilogue
DYLAN
Five Years Later
The adoption agency office isn’t flashy—just a standard workspace with a desk, cabinets, and a few chairs. The only real clue to its purpose is the framed children’s drawings lining the walls. Hunter sits next to me in front of the counselor interviewing us, her knee bouncing with restless energy. The chair creaks under my shifting weight as I try to appear composed—a feat, considering I’m auditioning for the role of “Future Dad.”
“Tell us a bit about why you’re pursuing adoption,” the counselor prompts, her pen poised above a notepad.
Hunter glances at me, her expression somewhere between hopeful and if you mess this up, Dylan, I’ll throttle you.
“Well,” I start, clasping my hands together to avoid fidgeting. “We’ve been trying for a few years. Turns out, my swimmers are less Michael Phelps, more synchronized flailing.”
The counselor blinks, clearly unsure whether to laugh or maintain professional neutrality.
Hunter groans softly, elbowing me in the ribs. “Dylan.”
“What?” I whisper.
“They value honesty,” she chides. “He doesn’t want to put me on the spot, but I’m the one with infertility issues. I can’t have a baby.”
“I see. Is infertility the only reason you’ve chosen to adopt?”
Hunter takes over, her voice steady, soothing. “We want to be parents. Biology doesn’t matter to us. What matters is giving a child a loving home and a family. We’re actually happy to be helping someone in need.”
Her hand slides into mine, and I squeeze it, grateful for her composure. “Yeah,” I add. “Plus, we’ve had practice. My goddaughter, Soleil, tests our patience every time she’s over. She’s a tiny hurricane. And she’s adopted, too. Half-adopted: her father was a real jerk, but then her mom met this—ouch.”
Hunter has kicked me under the table. “Honey, the counselor probably doesn’t care about Rowena and Adrian’s origin story.”
“True, I don’t.” The counselor’s lips twitch. “But it’s good that you’ve been around adopted children.”
Hunter smiles tightly. I give her hand another squeeze to let her know we got this. “Yeah. Anyway, we’re ready,” she says. “We’re excited to share our lives and love.”
She has this radiant glow, part hope, part nerves, and a lot of determination that reminds me why I married her. The counselor seems charmed too because her posture softens, and she moves on to the next question.
The counselor sets down her pen with a satisfied smile. “I think I have everything I need for now. The next step is for you to complete the formal written application.” She reaches for a neat stack of forms on the corner of her desk and hands them to me. “Take your time. Once you’ve filled these out and returned them, we’ll move forward.”
I accept the stack, thumbing through the pages briefly before handing them to Hunter. “Better if she handles this,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “I’ve got dyslexia, and forms like this are… not my strong suit.”
Five years ago, the thought of admitting something like this would’ve left me paralyzed. I’d invented some sort of excuse not to fill in the modules myself. But Hunter changed that. Her love has taught me that my struggles don’t make me less capable; they make me human. With her, I’ve learned that honesty isn’t a weakness, and neither is asking for help. She didn’t just accept my flaws; she made me see how they’re a part of who I am.
Now, there’s no shame in leaning on each other. It’s second nature, like breathing. Being able to ask for help and own my challenges? That’s real strength. Instead of letting my weaknesses hold me back, I’ve learned to navigate around them, and even laugh about them.
Hunter takes the papers and pats my arm. “Division of labor,” she says lightly, throwing the counselor a smile. “He’ll keep track of all the deadlines and reminders.”
The counselor nods, satisfied. “Teamwork like this will serve you well as parents.”
I glance over at Hunter as she patiently fills out the form, her pen moving steadily across the page. She doesn’t complain, doesn’t even hesitate, just does what needs to be done, like always. It’s not about keeping score; it’s about showing up for each other and taking on what the other can’t. Real love is knowing you don’t have to be perfect to be enough.
Yeah, we’re going to make one hell of a team.
* * *
By the time we leave the agency, I’m riding a wave of cautious optimism. Hunter loops her arm through mine as we step into the brisk New York afternoon. “You really had to bring up your swimmers?”
“Hey, she liked my humor. And I think it went well. It’ll be good if she remembers us as more than just names on paper.”
She shakes her head, but her lips curve into a small smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell her we’re dog haters. Now, that would’ve been memorable.”
I laugh, the familiar joke still sharp after all these years. “You’re right, I should’ve brought socks: Stepping Into Parenting.”
Hunter laughs. “ Toe-tally Into Babies .”
We pass a line of honking taxis as Hunter slows her pace. She frowns, something on her mind.
“Should we tell them?” she asks, her voice low. “About the application? Tonight, at dinner?”
I look at her, startled by the shift in tone. “You mean everyone?”
She nods, a flicker of hesitation glimmering in her dark eyes. “I don’t want to jinx it. But… I also want to share the journey. And if I get too stressed about the wait, I’d like to talk to Nina and Winnie about it.”
I consider this. Our friends are the nosiest, most opinionated group I know, my sister especially. Secrets don’t last long around them. “You’re right.” I sigh. “Let’s tell them so they won’t think we’re having a mid-life crisis or something.”
Hunter laughs, her tension easing a bit. “I don’t know. A bright-red sports car might suit you.”
I smirk. “I’ll stick with parenting chaos, thanks. I hear it’s just as expensive.”
She hugs me. “Alright. We’ll tell them. Tonight.”
I kiss her before flagging down a cab.
The ride to Tristan and Nina’s place is short. We’re the last to arrive, and the moment we step in, Soleil comes barreling toward us, her curls bouncing. “Uncle Dylan!”
I crouch down, bracing for impact. “Hey, sunshine! How’s the reigning queen of chaos?”
“I’m not chaos!” she declares, hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Rowena.
Adrian ambles over, holding his infant son. “She’s more of a tyrant than chaos.”
“Daddy!” Soleil protests, her little face scrunching up in mock offense.
Rowena appears, armed with a plate of appetizers and a raised eyebrow. “Don’t rile her up, Adrian. She’s finally calm.”
Adrian shrugs. “Calm is overrated.”
Rowena ignores him, beaming at Hunter. “You look different. Did something happen?”
Hunter turns to me. “Not even five minutes and we’re busted.”
Rowena smirks, smug. “Busted for what? Did you sneak off to get matching tattoos?”
“What is a tattoo, Mommy?”
Rowena pats her daughter’s head. “Something you don’t have to worry about for at least another thirteen years.”
Soleil pouts. “I can google it.”
Rowena sighs. “If you can spell tattoo, you deserve to know.”
Hunter chuckles nervously, and her fingers dig into my arm in a silent, You’re the one who said we should tell them.
I clear my throat, scanning the room for my sister. “Where are Nina and Tristan? Let’s get all the tough love in one sitting.”
“They’re in the kitchen arguing about whether the napkins should be folded or rolled,” Adrian says, adjusting his son in his arms. “It’s riveting.”
We move to the kitchen where, sure enough, Nina and Tristan are bickering over the napkin placement.
“I’m telling you, folding them into flowers is the way to go,” Nina insists, keeping her hands on her round belly; at thirty-six weeks pregnant, she could pop out my niece at any time. “It’s classic, elegant.”
Tristan shakes his head. “Rolling them is trendier. Plus, it saves time.”
Nina scoffs. “Are you in a hurry?”
Nina looks up as we enter, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What’s with the faces? You two look like you robbed a bank and can’t decide whether to feel guilty or excited about it.”
Hunter shoots me a smile that reads, I told you so. Yeah, we could’ve never kept such a huge secret from our friends.
“Nothing that dramatic.”
Tristan abandons the half-rolled napkin in his hands—I have to say, Nina might be right, her technique is superior—and everyone else stares at us expectantly.
“What did we miss?” Tristan asks, his sharp blue eyes darting between Hunter and me. “Please tell me Soleil did something embarrassing we can record for her wedding slideshow.”
“Not yet,” Adrian pipes up, lowering his son so Rowena can stamp a kiss on his tiny head. “But Dylan and Hunter have news.”
Nina perks up, her gaze narrowing on me with the precision of a heat-seeking missile. “What news? Wait, are you guys…?”
“No,” Hunter blurts out, her face going crimson. “Well, not exactly.”
Everyone leans in, their collective anticipation palpable. I glance at Hunter, and she gives me the tiniest nod.
“We’ve applied to adopt,” I announce.
For a split second, they’re all silent. Then Nina lets out a delighted squeal. “Oh my gosh! That’s amazing!” She sets the napkins down and wraps Hunter in an awkward side hug, her belly preventing a full range of motion. “I’m so proud of you guys!”
Even Tristan looks touched, though his default setting is sarcastic. “Wow. That’s wonderful. I didn’t know you two were ready for sleepless nights and a permanent glitter explosion in your house.”
“Just as ready as you are,” I quip back.
Rowena steps forward, her eyes tender as she wraps us in a three-way hug. “You’ll be amazing parents. And if you need any advice on the adoption process…” She glances at Adrian, who’s busy preventing Soleil from stealing the baby’s bottle.
Hunter laughs, returning Rowena’s hug. “Thanks, Winnie. And don’t worry, we plan to be those annoying friends who constantly ask for parenting tips, then ignore all of them.”
Her heist thwarted, Soleil tugs on my sleeve. “Uncle Dylan, can I show you my new dress?”
“Later, sweetie, I promise.”
Nina points a finger at Tristan. “If you want a second one, we’re adopting, too. I can’t be pregnant again.”
My sister has been complaining for the entire nine months that instead of a pregnancy glow, she got a pregnancy rot. Her gestation has had a few complications; she could’ve lost the baby. Nina jokes about it, but it hasn’t been easy.
My sister throws up her arms. “I’m carrying the Prince of Darkness’s spawn, what else did I expect?”
Tristan loops his arm protectively around Nina’s back. “Been a few years since you called me that, Princess.”
She turns to him, smiling like a love-struck idiot. “It’s not foreplay, and stop fussing, I’m fine.”
“You’re carrying precious cargo,” Tristan retorts, his tone half-serious.
Adrian snorts. “Is this your first reminder today, or are we past double digits?”
“I’ve lost count,” Nina says dryly, but her eyes sparkle as she looks at Tristan—my actual brother-in-law now.
“Mommy, what is foreplay?”
Rowena makes a panicked face, her eyes darting to Adrian like she’s passing him the you deal with this baton. “Something else you don’t have to worry about for another thirteen years, sweetheart.”
Adrian frowns. “Did you say thirty years? You did, right?”
Rowena slides up to him and kisses him on the mouth. “You just be glad she doesn’t know how to spell anything yet.”
A quiet, steady warmth fills my chest as I watch my friends— my family —laugh and bicker. These are my people—chaotic, flawed, fiercely loving. Adrian lifts the baby high into the air, making silly faces, while Rowena scoops Soleil into her arms, spinning her around as they both burst into giggles. Tristan dotes on Nina, earning affectionate eye-rolls.
And then there’s Hunter, my wife. The woman who has been by my side through it all, who has seen me at my best and worst and loved me just the same. She catches my eye across the room, and the tenderness in her gaze makes my heart swell.
I cross over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She leans into me, fitting perfectly against my side like she was made just for me. “We’re going to be parents,” she murmurs, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Yeah, we are.” I press a kiss to her temple, marveling at how far we’ve come. From acquaintances—as Hunter likes to define the first eleven years we knew each other—to roommates to friends to being a couple, and now, soon-to-be parents. It’s been a journey, filled with laughter, tears, and more love than I ever thought possible.
Her hand finds mine. “You okay?”
I nod, a slow smile spreading across my face. “More than okay. I’m just… happy. Really, really happy.”
“Yeah, me too.” Her dark eyes, soft and shining, find mine. “I love you, Dylan Thompson.”
I lean in, whispering in her ear, “Say it again,” and then I bite her earlobe.