Epilogue
Christina
“You… are… so… going… to… pay… for… this,” I gasp, trying and failing to drag enough air into my lungs.
Phil, walking behind me with infuriating ease, chuckles.
“It’s not much further,” he says.
I stop and turn slowly, fixing him with the most threatening look I can manage while sweating through every layer of clothing I wear.
“You said that thirty minutes ago.”
He raises his hands in surrender.
“I meant it this time.”
I narrow my eyes at him, then turn back toward the incline and continue climbing. My legs protest immediately. My lungs follow shortly after.
I don’t know why I let him talk me into this again.
Actually, that’s not true.
I know exactly why.
Because he had looked at me that morning with his puppy eyes, standing in our kitchen with his hair still damp from the shower, and said, “I want to show you something.”
And it’s impossible to refuse him when he looks at me like that.
We keep walking. Well. He walks. I survive.
He looks entirely unaffected, like he could continue indefinitely without so much as adjusting his breathing. Meanwhile, I am considering writing my will.
It isn’t fair.
It’s also deeply unfair how attractive he is in motion. There’s something about the quiet confidence in the way he moves, the strength he carries without needing to display it. Even now, ten months later, he still has the ability to undo me completely without trying.
This morning, he’d stood in the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his hips, shaving with careful concentration.
I had leaned against the doorframe longer than necessary, watching him, knowing exactly how that moment would end.
Ten months in and I still can’t resist him when he wearing nothing but a towel.
Of course we ended up shagging in the bathroom… and the bedroom.
He catches me staring now and smiles slightly, like he knows exactly where my mind has wandered.
“See,” he says, nodding ahead. “We’re here.”
The trees open suddenly, revealing a small rocky outcrop overlooking the valley below. I reach it on sheer stubbornness alone and collapse onto the nearest flat stone.
Phil sits beside me, shrugging off his backpack.
“Worth it?” he asks.
I lean my head against his shoulder, letting my breathing settle as the view unfolds before us. Fellside stretches below, quiet and familiar, the fells rolling endlessly into the distance.
“It is,” I admit. “But I maintain that cable cars are an underappreciated invention.”
He laughs softly and starts unpacking lunch.
“We don’t need cable cars in the Lake District,” he says stubbornly.
“Well,” I say, watching him carefully, “then this is going to be the last hike in a while for us.”
He pauses.
“Why?”
I swallow, suddenly aware of my heartbeat.
“Because,” I say quietly, “I refuse to carry the person growing inside me up a mini Everest.”
He freezes.
Slowly, he turns toward me.
His eyes search my face like he needs confirmation that he heard correctly.
“Are you telling me…” His voice falters. “Are you telling me we’re having a baby?”
I nod.
For a moment, he doesn’t move.
Then his hand comes to rest gently against my stomach, reverent and protective.
Emotion moves across his face in waves. Surprise. Wonder. Joy.
Tears fill his eyes.
“I can’t believe it,” he whispers.
I reach into the backpack and pull out the tiny hiking boots I packed that morning. They fit in the palm of my hand.
His breath catches when he sees them.
“I didn’t plan it. Best I can think of is that the stomach bug I had messed with the pill,” I say quietly. “But I’m not sorry.”
He leans forward and kisses me, his hand still resting against my stomach.
“I’m so happy,” he says against my lips.
He lowers himself carefully in front of me, resting his forehead briefly against me.
“I can’t wait to meet you,” he murmurs softly.
I run my fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by how completely he means it.
After a moment, he looks up at me.
“You know,” he says, “we’re going to have to get married.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Oh, really?”
He hesitates.
“No,” he corrects himself. “We don’t have to.”
Something in my chest tightens slightly despite myself.
He reaches into his pocket.
“But I want to.”
He pulls out a small ring.
My breath stops.
“Christina,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes, “you are everything to me. You are my home. I was going to ask you today anyway. I had a plan. A proper plan.”
He smiles faintly.
“But somehow you made today even better.”
His thumb brushes mine.
“I don’t need you to say yes now. I don’t need anything except you. But I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. If you’ll let me.”
Tears spill freely down my cheeks.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His face softens completely.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” I repeat, laughing through tears. “Of course yes.”
I pull him into me.
“I love you, Bambi.”
He kisses me gently.
“I love you too.”
We sit there together, overlooking the village that brought us to each other, the future unfolding quietly between us.
This is where we belong. And nobody can tell us otherwise.