Epilogue #2
Her shoulders ease, like something heavy has finally been set down. She nods, eyes shining, and when the next contraction begins to build, she holds on to me like she knows exactly where she belongs.
After a minute, Addie exhales slowly, her grip on my hand loosening but not letting go. She studies my face like she’s committing it to memory, like she needs to see something there before she says what comes next.
“I want to get married,” she says.
Something opens in my chest so quickly it almost hurts. I don’t try to contain it. I lean in and kiss her, like I’m sealing a promise that’s already been made. “Yes,” I tell her. “Of course, we can.”
Her eyes soften, relief washing through her expression.
“However you want it,” I assure her. “Big, small, in Paradise or somewhere quiet. With everyone there or just family.” I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “We’ll do it your way. Anytime you’re ready.”
Another contraction starts to rise, and she nods, squeezing my hand again, but she’s smiling now, something lighter threaded through the effort. As she leans into the next wave, my heart soars, knowing that whatever comes next, we’re already choosing each other.
When the time truly comes, there’s no mistaking it.
The room sharpens, and the air charged with urgency as Addie’s body takes over completely. She grips my hands, her focus narrowing, every ounce of her strength funneled into what she’s about to do. I stay close, my voice steady, my attention locked on her face as the world tightens around us.
She pushes with a determination that steals my breath.
I tell her she’s strong, that she’s doing it, that I’m right here.
The words feel small compared to what I’m witnessing, but I keep them coming anyway, offering whatever anchor I can.
Her effort is fierce, controlled, and unrelenting, and I’m struck by how completely she’s in her body, how little room there is for anything but this moment.
And then, suddenly, there’s a sound. New. Alive.
The baby is here.
Time stutters as he’s lifted and placed on Addie’s chest, small and impossibly solid, his weight settling against her like he’s always belonged there. Addie lets out a breath that sounds like relief and disbelief all at once, her hands shaking as she touches him.
Gratitude floods my chest and knocks the air from my lungs. This life. This woman. This child. I rest my hand over both of them, reveling in the reality of their warmth, their presence.
I’ve seen this moment before. I’ve stood in rooms like this, watched families form in an instant. Nothing could have prepared me for how it feels when it’s mine.
The room settles into a softer rhythm after that, the urgency easing into something reverent.
Addie is propped up slightly now, our son tucked against her chest, his small body warm and real beneath my palm. I can’t stop touching him—his back, his shoulder, the fine down of hair at his crown—like I need constant reassurance that he’s actually here.
A nurse asks about the name, her voice gentle, practical.
I’m ready. I’ve been ready. Austin has lived in my head for weeks now, ever since Addie first said it aloud, testing the shape of it. I glance at her, waiting for her to say it again, already adjusting to the idea of it becoming real.
She looks down at the baby instead.
“Jacob,” she says. “Jacob Austin Anderson.”
I look at her, caught off guard enough that I don’t even try to hide it. She named him after my grandfather.
Addie lifts her gaze to mine, a small, tired smile curving her mouth. “It kept nagging at me,” she says quietly. “And then I saw him.”
She shifts slightly, careful, protective. “He’s not an Austin. And he’s not a Caleb. He’s Jacob.”
I look at our son again and realize she’s right. The name fits in a way that feels inevitable, like it’s been waiting for him all along.
“Jacob,” I repeat.
Addie exhales, and I squeeze her hand.
The room empties gradually, the quiet returning in a way that feels earned.
When it’s just the three of us, Addie rests back against the pillows, Jacob sleeping heavily on her chest, his small breaths steady and sure. I sit close, one hand resting over hers, the other still curved protectively around him. I don’t want to rush this. Not the words. Not the promise.
I shift slightly, enough that she looks up at me, her expression soft and tired and utterly beautiful. “Addie,” I say. “Will you marry me?”
Her eyes fill, and she smiles. “Yes.”
I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in, the weight of the moment settling into something steady and permanent. “Any ring you want,” I tell her. “Whatever you’ve dreamed of.”
She shakes her head, a quiet laugh pushing through her exhaustion. “Just a gold band,” she says. “That’s all I need.”
I nod. “Then that’s what you’ll have.”
Jacob stirs between us, making a small, indignant sound, and Addie laughs, brushing her thumb over his cheek.
I watch them.
She looks up at me. “I’m in,” she says quietly. “This is what I choose and where I choose to be.”
Thank you for reading and enjoying Dr. Anderson. I hope you enjoyed Addie and Luc’s story. They worked hard to earn their happily ever after.
If you’ve ever wondered where everything in Black Bear Valley actually is—the vineyards, the hospital, the lake, the towns, the winding roads everyone seems to fight, kiss, or break down on—I finally made a map.
As a thank you for reading Dr. Anderson, I’m sharing the official map of Paradise and Black Bear Valley so you can explore the fictional world behind the Brothers Paradise and Dempsey Follies series.
You can download it here.
And if you want to get a sneak (unedited) of what’s coming next, you can check this out: