Epilogue
“Are you ready?”
Nettie turned—and the world shifted.
Tate was leaning casually in the doorway, dressed in a perfectly cut black suit that clung to him like it had been designed just for him.
But it wasn’t the suit that stole her breath.
It was the sight of their son cradled effortlessly against his shoulder, Matthew’s tiny body rising and falling with each baby sigh.
Something in Nettie’s chest broke open at that sight, and every fiber of her being ached with yearning and love so deep she could hardly contain it.
Every man alive should have to wear a suit with an infant tucked against him, she thought, because there could never be anything more heartbreakingly beautiful.
And yet—no one else could compare to Tate.
He wasn’t just a man in a suit, he wasn’t just a father.
He was hers. He was the man who had walked into her life when she least expected it, who had given her more love than she’d ever believed she deserved.
And together, they had made this perfect child.
Her gaze softened as she thought back to that morning.
When she had peeked into the nursery, Matthew had been asleep, tiny fists curled by his face—and Mulligan, their once-scrawny rescue kitten, was stretched out protectively in the corner of the crib as if standing guard.
The image had nearly undone her. That silly cat had adored her growing belly, purring like a heartbeat whenever he lay across her, as though he knew before anyone else that Matthew was coming. And now here they were, a family.
A real family.
Life was good. So good she almost feared blinking, as though it might all disappear someday, fading like a dream.
Tonight was about celebration. They were off to a wedding—a chance to bask in the glow of love with their friends—and afterward, they’d meet the Thierrys at Vinny’s to toast the playoffs.
Two years of grit and sacrifice, of blood and bruises on the ice, had finally led here.
And through it all, Tate had never once made her feel like she wasn’t part of every victory.
She had left the daycare behind without regret, pouring herself into their home, their family, their future. Something she’d once believed was forever out of reach had been placed into her hands, into her heart. And now, she was living her every wish, her every fantasy.
Nettie’s throat tightened. She couldn’t stop staring at Tate. Her husband. Her lover. Her soulmate. Her forever.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, voice trembling with more than nerves.
Her eyes locked with his, and she saw it—the way his gaze darkened, the hunger that simmered beneath his tenderness.
She felt it too, like a secret spark flickering between them in the quiet spaces.
“I’m ready for everything. And then some. ”
Tate’s lips curved into that crooked smile that always unraveled her. “You look so good, Sticks,” he rasped, his voice dipped in huskiness. “If we stayed home right now, do you think they would ever forgive us?”
Nettie laughed, soft and breathless, closing the distance to press her hand against the smooth lapel of his suit.
With her other hand, she rubbed Matthew’s tiny, curled bottom where Tate’s large palm cupped him in his little pajamas in the same color as the wedding party’s colors. Her heart swelled.
“No,” she teased, eyes dancing, knowing just how her husband’s mind worked. “You’ll just have to be patient a little while longer. When Matthew’s in bed later though…”
Tate leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “Then you’re mine?”
She swallowed hard, the words rising from a place so deep it almost hurt. “I’ve always been yours. From the beginning. Until the end of eternity.” Her gaze softened with a smile. “But you’ll have to share me with a few important people.”
He tilted his head, amused. “Such as?”
Nettie slid her arms beneath their son and lifted Matthew gently into her embrace. The baby stirred, gave a tiny sigh, and nestled against her breast as though he knew exactly where he belonged. Nettie kissed the soft fuzz of his hair, her voice breaking with love. “Him,” she whispered. “Matthew.”
“Lucky boy,” Tate murmured reverently.
Her heart pounded, wild and unsteady. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her lips trembling with the smile she could no longer contain. “And whoever joins our family in eight months.”
The words hung in the air, shimmering with meaning.
Tate’s eyes widened, and for the span of a heartbeat, silence fell. Then his mouth stretched into the most breathtaking smile she had ever seen. Pure joy. Pure pride. Pure energy. His voice cracked with emotion.
“You’re pregnant?”
Tears blurred her vision, but she laughed through them, radiant. “I am.”
He was across the room in two strides, wrapping his arms around her, around their son, around everything. Nettie trembled in his embrace, every part of her alive with wonder. She teased through the rush of tears, “We might need to slow down, or we’ll have our own hockey team before long.”
“Don’t tease me with a good time—bring it on,” Tate chuckled proudly, but there was a shimmer in his eyes, the kind that betrayed how deeply he felt this moment.
He rested a hand gently over her stomach, reverent, protective.
She loved how he could touch her in a way that seemed so casual but reached right in and caressed her soul.
“I’m here for everything, Nettie. The highs, the lows. All of it. Every second.”
She melted into him, into the truth of his words, into the safety of his arms. “Me too,” she whispered, touching his hand with hers. “I want every experience, every joy, every challenge—so long as I get to share it with you.” Her lips brushed his in a promise, soft and trembling. “But first?”
Tate grinned against her kiss. “First, the wedding – or we’re dead.”
She smiled back, radiant and beaming. “Then we celebrate in our own way.”
And as he kissed her again, slow and tender, Nettie knew that this was indeed what Happily Ever After looked like.