Epilogue
RYLIN
Ayear ago, the idea of my desserts being the centerpiece at a Nighthawks charity event would’ve felt laughable. Tonight, it was reality.
The venue buzzed with that easy energy that I’d learned only came once the football season was officially over. Laughter came more easily. No one was counting calories or tracking stats anymore. And my dessert table had become a focal part of their celebration.
I took a slow lap around it, smiling as I noted the evidence. Empty platters stacked neatly at the back, smudged with crumbs and powdered sugar. Staff are hustling fresh trays out from the kitchen. Guests hovering not-so-casually nearby, pretending they weren’t waiting for refills.
A reporter stopped me mid-step. “Do you have a cookbook coming out?”
“Not yet,” I replied easily. “But I’ve been thinking about it.”
Another donor leaned in, wineglass in hand. “Are these available anywhere? My daughters would love them.”
“Only at The Tight Line for now. But that might change.” The confidence in my voice didn’t surprise me. I had earned it.
As I spoke, my hand drifted to my belly—round and unmistakable beneath my dress. The engagement ring on my finger caught the light. My wedding band was nestled snugly beside it. Right on cue, the baby shifted, a firm little nudge that made me laugh softly and excuse myself for a moment.
“Already has opinions,” I joked, earning a ripple of laughter.
As I headed toward our table, I thought about how much had changed since I met Micah. Not just professionally, but personally.
I hadn’t just found success. I’d found my footing.
The disbelief wasn’t there anymore. Just pride.
A familiar warmth appeared behind me as Micah rested his hand at my hip, and I knew without a doubt that I was exactly where I belonged.
The noise softened until the cavernous room felt smaller somehow—like it was shrinking down to just us.
Micah shifted closer, his palm sliding over to cup my belly. “How’re you feeling?”
I smiled up at him. “Amazing.”
His answering grin was pure satisfaction, and he leaned down to kiss me. When he pulled back, his brows lifted. “I meant physically. Your feet okay? You hungry? Need to sit?”
I laughed softly. “You lasted longer than I expected.”
He didn’t even pretend to apologize.
Over the past six months, his protectiveness had deepened. Not into something suffocating. It was thoughtful. Like my comfort stayed in the front of his mind.
“I could eat,” I admitted. “But I didn’t manage to grab one of the mini peach pies. I’ve been craving them all week.”
He laced his fingers through mine and guided me the rest of the way to our table. At the center of it sat a plate covered with a napkin. He smirked, letting the moment stretch, then flicked the white linen back.
Two mini pies sat beneath it. One peach. One cherry.
And tucked beside the plate was a folded piece of paper in his unmistakable blocky scrawl.
Do not touch.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for. Figured I’d cover my bases.”
I sniffled, my mouth already watering. “You hid pie for me?”
“From teammates who would’ve gladly tackled me for this plate.”
I laughed, blinking hard as I pulled him down for another kiss, full of gratitude, love, and the quiet certainty that I’d found my forever.
“Ahem,” my sister said from behind us. “Some of us are trying to keep this a rated-G charitable event until we get home.”
Micah chuckled, utterly unrepentant. “I was just checking on my wife.”
“Sure,” she snorted. “If that’s what they’re calling it these days.”
Micah kissed me again. “Get used to it.”
“I already am since you lock lips all the time.” Reese rolled her eyes, then zeroed in on the plate in front of me like a heat-seeking missile. “Is that—”
Her fingers darted out.
I swatted her hand away on reflex. “Mine.”
She burst out laughing. “Wow. It’s a good thing you’re such a great baker because pregnancy has turned you into a dessert fiend.”
“The baby wants pie,” I informed her solemnly, pulling the plate closer.
Micah shook his head with a laugh. “For the record, I risked actual bodily harm hiding those from my teammates.”
Reese eyed the pies longingly. “Good thing I was smart enough to get into CUNY, because apparently I wouldn’t survive in this family without my own stash of snacks.”
I loved that she’d found her place with us, fitting right into the Nighthawks family.
She had more honorary big brothers than she knew what to do with, and a little niece or nephew on the way.
And pretty soon, she’d live in the same building as us, since Micah had used our baby as the perfect excuse for her to be close enough to pop over between classes, since her schedule was going to be jam-packed.
Not that I’d fought him too hard on the move. I finally understood how happy it made him to take care of his family, and it only made me love him more.