Epilogue - Reese
Thanksgiving morning light paints our kitchen in a honey-gold. I pull a mug from the dishwasher that’s still warm from last night’s washing and hold it while I wait for the coffee to finish.
The coffee maker gurgles and hisses, filling the kitchen with that rich aroma. I hear Logan's deep voice from the bedroom, followed by Tyler's high-pitched giggles. It sounds like he’s being tickled.
Our penthouse has transformed in the months since I moved in.
What was once a bachelor pad of sleek surfaces and minimalist décor is now a mix of that and the beautiful chaos of family life.
Tyler's dinosaurs are proudly curated on the coffee table.
Finger paintings adorn the refrigerator door, secured with alphabet magnets.
My collection of throw pillows has multiplied like rabbits, much to Logan's comical dismay.
I hear the rumbling patter of Tyler's feet announcing his arrival. He rockets into the kitchen, a blur of dark curls and red Chicago Blades pajamas—a miniature version of his father.
"Mama! Is it turkey time yet?" He crashes into my legs, arms wrapping around my thighs like he might never let go.
My heart swells at the word "Mama." It started three months ago—as an alternative to Jessica’s ‘Mommy.’ Now it's just who I am to him, a title I wear with more pride than any other.
"Not yet, sweetie." I ruffle his hair, still amazed that I get to love this little person. "The turkey needs to cook all day. But how about some special Thanksgiving pancakes for breakfast?"
"With chocolate chips?" His eyes widen with hope, and I laugh at his transparent attempt to score forbidden morning chocolate.
"Just blueberries today. You’ll get plenty of yummy stuff after dinner. Deal?" I counter, already reaching for the mixing bowl.
"Deal!" He pumps his fist in triumph, then scrambles onto one of the barstools at our kitchen island, knees tucked under him to boost his height.
Logan appears in the doorway, sleep-rumpled and stupid handsome in flannel pajama bottoms and a worn v-neck t-shirt. His hair sticks up on one side, and I can’t wait to feel that sexy stubble when he kisses me. I’m smitten.
"Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, crossing to where I stand. His arms slide around my waist from behind, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear. "Happy Thanksgiving."
I lean back into his warm chest. "Happy Thanksgiving."
He reaches around me for his coffee mug, his other arm remaining firmly anchored around my waist. It's a dance we've perfected—moving together, anticipating each other's needs.
"Daddy! Mama said we can have blueberry pancakes!" Tyler announces, bouncing on his stool with barely contained excitement.
"Did she now?"
Logan’s hand holds my hip, his thumb tracing circles that give me shivers on the exposed skin between the top of my PJ’s and my t-shirt.
I wonder how long it will be until he notices the subtle changes in my body—the slight fullness to my breasts, the tenderness when he touches me.
The doctor says I'm about eight weeks along.
"Can we have a dinosaur pancake?" Tyler asks, leaning precariously over the counter to watch me work. "A T-Rex with blueberry eyes!"
"Tyler, sit down on your butt," Logan warns him. Tyler immediately plops his bottom back onto the stool with exaggerated care.
I pour the first pancake onto the mold on the griddle, adding a blueberry for an eye. "One T-Rex pancake coming right up for my favorite little paleontologist."
“Maybe today you’re a pancake-ologist,” Logan teases him and moves to the refrigerator, pulling out eggs and bacon. "We need protein too, buddy. Growing boys need more than pancakes."
"Growing hockey players," Tyler corrects him seriously. "I'm gonna play for the Blades like you, Daddy."
I touch my stomach again when Logan's back is turned, hiding a smile. By tonight, this perfect life of ours will know it has one more blessing to be thankful for. One more piece of the family.
"Hey," Logan says, catching me in this reflective moment of joy. His eyes search mine with soft curiosity. "What’s going on in that pretty head? You, OK?"
"Never better," I tell him, and it's the absolute truth. "Just thinking about how thankful I am. For you. For all of this."
His expression softens, and he leans in for a kiss. He takes my face in his hands as he does, and says, "Me too, Reese. Me too."
By three o'clock, our place has transformed from our morning lived-in mess to holiday-ready. The dining table stretches its full length, dressed in the cream-colored tablecloth that was my mom’s, set with the china Logan's grandmother gave him.
Candles flicker in polished silver holders, and a centerpiece of autumn leaves sits in the table's center.
The turkey is in the oven, filling the apartment with smells that always make me think about my childhood.
I adjust a napkin, then readjust it, then adjust it again.
The concierge calls up to announce our first guests’ arrival.
"They're here! They're here!" Tyler shrieks.
Logan emerges from our bedroom in dark jeans and a soft deep gray sweater that somehow makes his eyes look sexier. "I got it, buddy," he says, catching Tyler before he runs into the elevator. "Remember what we talked about with the elevator?"
"Wait for a grown-up," Tyler recites, bouncing on his toes.
The door opens to reveal Elena and Nate, their cheeks flushed from the November cold. Elena holds a bottle of champagne and a foil-covered dish, while Nate balances a massive bouquet of flowers.
"Happy Thanksgiving!" Elena sweeps in, passing the dishes to Logan so she can scoop Tyler into a hug. "Where's my favorite guy?"
"I'm right here!" Tyler giggles and squirms as she plants noisy kisses on his cheeks.
"Those flowers are gorgeous," I tell Nate, taking the bouquet. "And way too extravagant."
"Blame Elena," he says, his smile softening his normally intense expression. "She said extravagant flowers were mandatory for Thanksgiving with you all."
"She's not wrong," Logan calls from the kitchen where he's stashing the champagne. "I expect nothing less than extravagant." He teases.
Elena follows me to the kitchen. "So," she whispers, her back to the men, "still planning the big reveal today?"
I nod, unable to suppress my smile. "After dinner. I have a little gift for Logan."
Her eyes dance with excitement. "I can't believe you've kept it secret this long. I'd have burst."
"Auntie Elena! Aunt El!" Tyler tugs at her hand. "I made new pictures. Wanna see?"
"Absolutely," she says seriously. "Lead the way, Dr. McCoy."
Tyler drags her to the living room where his dinosaur drawings cover the coffee table. Nate follows, kneeling beside them with genuine interest as Tyler explains each prehistoric creature with the solemnity of a museum curator.
"That kid," Logan murmurs, appearing at my side with two glasses of sparkling water. "He's got them wrapped around his finger."
I accept the glass, our fingers brushing for a moment. "Like father, like son."
More guests are arriving, and I'm struck again by how much has changed since last Thanksgiving.
Then, Jessica enters with a handsome man in wire-rimmed glasses—Marcus, her new boyfriend of three months. She's holding a sweet potato casserole and wearing a genuine smile.
"Happy Thanksgiving!" She says as she steps inside, accepting Logan's brief hug easily. "Logan, you remember Marcus. Marcus, this is Reese."
Marcus extends his hand, his grip firm and friendly. "Nice to finally meet you, Reese. Jessica says such nice things about you."
"She’s sweet," I say, leading them inside.
"I may go on a bit about how grateful I am to have you as my kiddo’s bonus mom," Jessica says. The compliment warms me because I know she means it.
Tyler spots Jessica and rockets across the room. "Mommy!" He crashes into her legs with the same enthusiasm he showed me this morning.
Jessica crouches to hug him. "There's my big boy! I missed you!"
"I made you a special turkey picture at school!" he tells her excitedly. "It's on the fridge! I used my hand to make the feathers!"
She leans against the counter, watching Tyler show Marcus his new dinosaur drawings.
The elevator doors open again, and this time it's Kovy and his wife Natasha, with their twin daughters—and they’re all matching. Logan greets Kovy with a back-slapping hug, and immediately starts chirping him about his matching holiday outfit before launching into talk about last night’s games.
Natasha says hello, then rolls her eyes at them as they disappear into their sports bubble. "They can’t help themselves," she says.
Sully arrives next with his new girlfriend Diane, a petite pediatric surgeon with silver-streaked hair and cute glasses. He presents us with an expensive bottle of scotch "for later" and pulls me into a bear hug.
"Looking good, kid," he tells me, his eyes twinkling. "You’re glowing! Marriage agrees with you, eh?"
"It does," I agree, watching Logan across the room, his head thrown back in laughter at something Nate said.
The apartment fills steadily with more teammates and their families—Benny with his wife and toddler, Schmitty and his fiancée, Jonesy and his best friend from childhood. Voices overlap, laughter ripples through different corners of the room, and the space transforms into our chosen family.
I stand for a moment in the kitchen doorway, taking it all in. All the guests are chatting happily, Jessica and Elena look like old friends laughing by the window, and Logan moves through it all with effortless confidence—connecting people, making introductions, ensuring everyone feels welcome.
"Pretty great, huh?" Logan says, appearing at my side and sliding an arm around my waist.
"Better than I imagined," I admit, leaning into him.
He leans down and kisses my head. "And just think—one day maybe we'll have one more for dinner."