Epilogue
One year and eight months later…
The Montana sun is warm on my shoulders as I stand on the back porch of the main ranch house where Luke’s parents live.
There’s barely-controlled chaos unfolding across the lawn. Our friends’ kids are running around on the vast expanse of grasslands. Red and pink balloons bob in the breeze, tied to fence posts and chair.
“Your daughter,” Luke says, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, “has just discovered she can throw cake.”
I turn to look at the scene unfolding near the picnic tables. Sure enough, Valentine, perched in her high chair with her wild dark curls escaping from the little bow I'd so carefully placed this morning, has a fistful of red velvet cake and is gleefully launching it at anyone within range.
“Oh no. The cake.”
“The beautiful, expensive, heart-shaped cake from your favorite bakery,” Luke confirms, kissing my temple. “She's got good aim though. Got Buster right in the head.”
I watch Buster gobbles up the cake that’s fallen onto the grass. Valentine squeals with delight and claps her frosting-covered hands together.
“She gets that from you,” he says.
I lean back against my husband's chest. Even after all these months, the word still gives me a thrill. Husband.
“The good aim or the chaos?”
“Both, Mrs. Brennan.”
Mrs. Brennan. Another phrase I'm still getting used to. We'd gotten married at the courthouse two weeks after seeing those positive tests, with just my dad, Luke's parents, and Emily and her husband Garrett there with us.
Quick and simple, because Luke had said he wasn't waiting another day to make me his wife, and I'd been too dizzy with happiness to argue.
The real celebration had come later, after Valentine was born. We had a small ceremony at sunset right here on the ranch, with our daughter sleeping peacefully in my father's arms as Luke and I renewed the vows we'd made in the courthouse.
I haven’t gone back to bartending. “Unpaid maternity leave” from Mad Dog’s turned into stay-at-home-mom life here on the ranch.
Sometimes I feel guilty about not going back to work, but Luke managed to finish his MBA remotely. Now he has the ranch running more profitably than it ever has.
My husband works hard so that I get to spend my days with my baby in paradise. I’ve even been taking art classes once a week.
Baby Val and I are living our best lives. It’s hard to feel guilty about it when Luke makes it clear how much pleasure and pride it gives him to make that life possible for us.
“Maddie!”
Emily waves from across the lawn, her blonde ponytail swinging as she waddles through the crowd with Garrett in tow.
She’s seventh months pregnant with her first. Totally adorable, as usual, especially doing the penguin-shuffle most of us pregnant ladies start doing in the third trimester.
“We need you to cut the cake before your sweet baby girl destroys the entire thing!” she says.
“Too late!” Luke’s mom calls out cheerfully. “I’ve got a backup sheet cake in the kitchen. I’ll go grab it.”
I make my way down the porch steps, Luke's hand finding mine automatically.
“There's the birthday girl!” I scoop Valentine out of her high chair, and she immediately smears pink frosting across my cheek. “Yes, thank you, baby. Very generous.”
“Mama,” she declares, and points imperiously at the cake.
“Just like her mama,” Luke says, taking Valentine from my arms and settling her on his hip. He drops a kiss on our daughter's frosting-covered nose. “Sweet tooth through-and-through.”
When it comes time to eat the cake, Valentine, still in Luke's arms, watches with wide turquoise eyes—her father's eyes—as I stick a candle into a relatively pristine section.
“Should we sing?” Emily asks.
“Obviously we're singing,” Luke's mom declares, and suddenly everyone is launching into “Happy Birthday,” off-key and enthusiastic.
I watch Valentine's face as she takes it all in: the singing, the attention, the love radiating from every person here. Her little hand reaches for the candle, and Luke gently redirects it.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he say. “Hot.”
“Ha,” she repeats in her sweet little voice.
When the song ends, I lean in and kiss her chubby cheek. “Make a wish, baby girl.”
Of course, she can't blow out candles yet, so Luke and I do it together, our breath mingling as we extinguish the flame. There’s a cheer, and then Luke’s mom takes charge of distributing the untouched sheet cake to guests.
“What did you wish for?” Emily asks me as people start claiming slices of cake.
I look around.
I look at my husband holding our daughter. At my father and Buster, both healthy and happy. At my family and friends gathered around us.
I look at the ranch land stretching out in every direction, golden in the late afternoon light. I think about the cabin just over the ridge where the three of us wake up every morning as a family.
“I didn't need to wish for anything,” I say honestly. “I already have everything I could ever want.”
“Sap,” Emily teases, but her eyes are suspiciously shiny.
Later, after the cake has been reduced to crumbs and the presents have been opened—Valentine was way more interested in the wrapping paper than the actual toys—I find myself sitting on the porch steps with my dad.
“You happy, Maddie?” Dad asks, watching Luke chase Valentine around the yard while she shrieks with laughter.
“So happy I don't even have words for it,” I admit. “Sometimes I wake up and can't believe this is my life.”
“You deserve it.” He pats my knee. “You and Luke both. That's a good man you married. Though I gotta say," Dad continues, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I never thought my matchmaking skills would work quite this well.”
I turn to stare at him. “Matchmaking skills? Dad, what did you do?”
“Nothing major.” He's trying to look innocent and failing. “Just maybe made sure you two kept getting the same days off. That sort of thing.”
“Dad!”
“What? Worked, didn't it?” He gestures to where Luke has now scooped up Valentine and is spinning her around while she giggles uncontrollably. “Look at that. That's a family, Madison. Your family. And if I helped it along a little bit, well, that's what fathers are for.”
I lean my head on his shoulder, too happy to be annoyed. “Thank you.”
His voice is gruff when he responds. “Always, Maddie girl. Always.”
As the sun paints the sky in shades of pink and gold, Luke makes his way back to the porch with a very sleepy Valentine. Her head is on his shoulder, her eyes already drooping.
“I think someone's had enough birthday excitement,” he says softly, running a gentle hand over her curls.
There's a flurry of goodbyes as guests start to leave. Hugs and thanks and promises to do it again soon. Luke's family begins the cleanup, waving us off when we try to help.
“You two get that baby home,” Luke's mom insists. “We've got this.”
So we do. Luke drives us the short distance to our cabin with Valentine sleeping soundly in her car seat, one hand clutching the little stuffed horse that was a gift from Emily and Garrett.
Inside, the cabin is quiet and cool. Luke carries Valentine to her nursery, the room he finished painting soft pink three days before she was born, and lays her gently in her crib.
She yawns, stretches, and settles back to sleep.
We stand there for a moment, watching her sleep, her chest rising and falling with those perfect, tiny breaths.
“Best birthday party ever,” Luke whispers, sliding his arm around my waist.
“She won't remember any of it.”
“No, but we will.” He turns me to face him, his hands settling on my hips.
“We'll tell her about it someday. About how everyone who loves her came together to celebrate. About her mama’s favorite heart-shaped cake that she destroyed with pure joy. About how she threw frosting at Buster and stole the whole show.”
I smile up at him. “And we'll tell her about how her parents met on Valentine's Day. How they fell in love so fast it was terrifying. How finding out about her was the scariest, most wonderful surprise of their lives.”
“How her daddy knew from the start that her mama was the one.” Luke's voice drops lower. “How he would do it all over again, exactly the same way, because it led him here. To this life, to this family, to everything that matters.”
“Luke Brennan,” I whisper, twining my hands around his neck. “Still making me cry after all this time.”
When we finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine. “Happy first birthday to our Valentine,” he murmurs.
As I climb into bed beside my husband, he pulls me close, my back to his chest, his hand splaying across my stomach in that same protective gesture he's been doing since the day we found out about Valentine.
That stomach of mine is a lot softer now, and covered in stretch marks, and Luke still touches me like he can’t keep his hands off me.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my neck. “Both my girls. My whole world.”
“We love you too,” I whisper back. “You were right, you know. My world did change. Because of you. Because of her.”
He holds me tight.
And as I drift off to sleep, surrounded by the quiet sounds of our home, I think about that girl from two years ago. The one who stood at a bar beneath the light of a neon moon, thinking her heart was closed for business.
Possessed by a sudden crazy impulse, I leap out of bed and go to our closet, searching for the purse I carried back then. It’s still on the shelf above my sweaters, and I pull it down to rummage through the contents until I find what I’m looking for.
I find it.
Then I hide it behind my back.
When I come back to bed, Luke is looking at me with a soft, expectant smile. “Whatcha got there, darlin’?”
“A little something for you.”
“Is it another pregnancy test?”
I gape at him. “No!”
His face falls, but then he grins. “Damn. And here I’ve been working hard to put another baby in you. Guess I better double-up my efforts.”
I laugh against his lips as he kisses me.
“You’re crazy,” I tell him.
And then I take his hand and press the small package into his palm.
It’s the candy hearts from two years ago.
“All yours,” I say. “You’re my forever Valentine.”
The way Luke kisses me after that, I have a feeling I’m getting pregnant tonight.
Thank you so much for reading!