Epilogue
Emory
One Year Later
Snow drifts lazily across the mountain, soft flakes swirling outside the cabin windows. Inside, the world feels warm and calm, lit by the glow of the fire and the faint shimmer coming from Pike's workshop. It's the kind of evening that makes the whole mountain seem like it's holding its breath.
"Last ornament of the season," Pike says as he steps out of the workshop, wiping his hands on a cloth. He looks at me with that familiar warmth, the one that still makes my breath catch. "You ready to see it?"
"Always."
He crosses the room and opens his hand. Nestled in his palm is a delicate sphere of deep green glass with a faint gold swirl running through it, soft and luminous in the firelight.
"It's beautiful," I whisper. “Where should we put it?”
He no longer keeps his identity a secret, but he’s carried on the tradition of the Glass Ghost, secretly placing ornaments on trees and in places where people will find them. Only now, I help him do it.
"This one is for our tree." His voice softens. "Our first Christmas as husband and wife."
It's been a full year since the blizzard that changed everything. A year of quiet mornings, shared meals, late nights in the workshop, and slow, sweet routines that feel like home. A year of learning each other. Choosing each other. Loving each other deeply.
Pike hangs the ornament near the top of the tree, a Fraser fir we cut together from the edge of the property, and then turns toward me.
His hair is a little longer this winter, curling slightly at the ends, and his jaw is rough with evening stubble.
When he crosses the room again and wraps his arms around my waist, I melt against him easily.
"You've been quiet tonight," he says. “Is everything okay?”
"I've been thinking."
He lifts a brow. "About what?"
I slip my hands up his chest, letting my fingers rest just over his heart. "About how last Christmas, I came looking for the Glass Ghost and found the man of my dreams."
"And changed my whole damn life," he says, his voice low.
"And how this Christmas," I continue, "something else is changing it too."
He studies me closely. "Emory?"
I take a steady breath, even though my heart is racing. "I'm pregnant."
For a moment he freezes. Then his hands tighten around my waist, carefully slide to my stomach, and cradle it as if he's already protecting what's inside.
"You're sure?" His voice is quiet, almost reverent.
"I still need to go to the doctor, but three at-home pregnancy tests say the same thing."
He exhales, a shaky, emotional sound he tries to swallow, and pulls me close, pressing his forehead to mine. "Emory… I don't know how to describe what I'm feeling right now."
"Try," I whisper.
His thumb brushes my cheek gently. "It's love. All of it. More than I ever thought I could carry."
Warmth floods my chest. I slip my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. He holds me even tighter, as if he's afraid to let go.
After a long, quiet moment, he steps back just enough to look at me. "You're really having my baby."
"Yes."
His expression softens, then shifts into something fierce, protective, almost awed. "I'm going to take care of you both. Anything you need. Anything this baby ever needs. I’ll be there for you both, forever."
My breath catches. "I know."
He kisses me, slow and warm, full of devotion. When we break apart, he lifts me up easily, carrying me closer to the fire. I curl against him, laying my head on his shoulder as snow continues to drift outside.
No noise. No visitors. No outside world.
Just us.
Just the quiet mountain.
Just the beginning of our new life.