Epilogue
HALLIE MAE
W eeks had passed since Noah’s proposal, the promise of our future settling into my bones like the Lowcountry sun.
We’d been hammering away at the Isle of Palms lot, the frame of our house rising against the horizon, each nail a step toward the life we were building.
But today, Noah had something else in mind.
He’d slipped out early that morning, muttering about an errand downtown.
I hadn’t thought much of it—maybe a supply run for the build—but the way his eyes lingered on me, warm and secretive, sparked a flutter in my chest. By noon, he was back, telling me only to wear something comfortable and be ready.
I chose a sundress, soft blue and flowing, my blonde hair loose, a nervous excitement thrumming through me—not just for whatever he’d planned, but for the secret I’d been carrying for days, waiting for the right moment to share.
He drove us out of Charleston, the Lowcountry unfolding—marshes glinting under the sun, palmettos swaying in the breeze. We ended up at a secluded beach on Isle of Palms, the lot for our future home just visible in the distance, its skeleton of beams glowing in the afternoon light.
Noah spread a blanket on the sand, a picnic basket at its center—fresh fruit, sandwiches, a bottle of sparkling cider he’d swapped for wine, though I hadn’t told him why yet.
We ate slowly, laughing as he fed me strawberries, his fingers brushing my lips, sparking heat despite the ocean breeze.
His touch still set me ablaze, every glance a reminder of the nights we’d spent together, exploring each other with a hunger that never faded.
After, he took my hand, leading me to the water’s edge, the waves lapping at our bare feet.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said, stopping to face me, his voice low and serious.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.
My breath caught as he opened it, revealing a ring—rose gold, a single diamond catching the sunlight, delicate but strong, like us.
“Hallie Mae,” he said, his eyes locked on mine, “you said yes, but I want you to feel it, every day, until we’re standing at an altar. You’re my home, my fight, my everything. This is my promise—we’re building a life, and I’m all in.”
Tears pricked my eyes as he slid the ring onto my finger, a perfect fit. I laughed through the lump in my throat, throwing my arms around him, kissing him fiercely. “I love it,” I whispered against his lips. “I love you.”
He lifted me, spinning me in the sand, the ocean roaring approval. We sank onto the blanket, kissing slow and deep, the ring glinting as I tangled my fingers in his hair. But as we settled, his arms around me, the weight of my secret pressed harder. I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Noah,” I said, pulling back, my voice trembling but sure. “I have something for you, too.”
His brow arched, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Better than a ring?”
“Maybe.” I took a deep breath, my hand resting on my stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes widened, his smirk vanishing, replaced by a look of pure, unguarded shock.
For a moment, he just stared, like he was trying to process the words.
Then a grin broke across his face, bright and unstoppable, and he pulled me into his arms, laughing, a sound so full of joy it made my heart ache.
“Pregnant?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re serious?”
I nodded, tears spilling now. “Found out a few days ago. I wanted to be sure before I told you.”
He kissed me, hard and fast, then pulled back, his hands cupping my face. “Hallie Mae, you’re gonna be a mom. We’re gonna be parents.” His grin faltered slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “I gotta admit, I thought you were on something—you know, birth control.”
I laughed, a little sheepish, my cheeks flushing. “I probably should’ve been. I was so naive about all this—sex, everything. Growing up, it was all ‘wait for marriage’ and ‘don’t ask questions.’ I didn’t even think about it until … well, until it was too late.”
He chuckled, shaking his head, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You’re telling me we made a baby because you were too busy blushing to read the fine print?”
“Pretty much,” I said, giggling. “You’re not mad, are you? ”
“Mad?” He pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine. “I’m over the damn moon. Surprised, yeah, but this—this is us. A little chaos, a lot of love.”
I relaxed into him, relief and joy flooding me. “So you’re ready to be a dad?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m ready to build a crib, paint a nursery, whatever it takes. Just don’t ask me to change diapers yet—I need a minute to prep for that.”
I laughed, swatting his chest. “You’ll be a pro. I can already see you pacing the house at 2 a.m., singing lullabies.”
“Only if you’re singing with me,” he teased, then sobered, his hand sliding to my stomach, gentle and reverent. “We’re gonna need to pick a room for the kid. That house is big enough for a whole brood.”
I smiled, picturing it—the half-finished house, its wide windows and open rooms. “I was thinking the one upstairs, with the view of the ocean. Lots of light, perfect for a nursery.”
“Done,” he said, kissing me softly. “Ocean view for our little troublemaker.”
We lay back on the blanket. Noah’s hand stayed on my stomach, his warmth grounding me as we talked about the future—our house rising from the lot, a wedding when the time was right, and now, a baby who’d be part of it all.
The pain of my father’s death, the scars of the mission, hadn’t vanished, but they’d woven into something stronger: us.
Noah pulled me close, his voice a soft rumble. “We’ll get there, Hallie Mae. Step by step.”
I nodded, my head on his chest, the ring warm on my finger, our child growing beneath his hand. “Together.”
We hope you enjoyed this story.
Your ratings and reviews mean we can keep writing!