Epilogue
PARKER - THREE MONTHS LATER
Morning light slips through the blinds, the trees cast dancing shadows on everything that’s become ours.
I never thought I’d be this guy, barefoot and shirtless, standing at the stove like it matters how evenly I brown a piece of French toast.
But it does. Because Mila is sitting at my table like she’s always belonged here.
I dreamed of having this type of life one day, but after Michigan, I didn’t trust that I would ever find someone I would trust again.
But I did—I found a beautiful woman and her little sister who make me laugh on a constant loop who are just as competitive as I am.
They’re the missing puzzle pieces I needed to feel whole.
I flip the toast, then I feel the weight of her gaze before she even says a word.
“Are you going to keep staring at me like that?” I say, sliding another piece onto the plate, “or are you going to help?”
“I’m supervising,” Annika says, leaning against the cabinet.
I take a quick glance over my shoulder, seeing her comfortable in her own skin and in our house. Her hair is a little messy, with her eyes locked on me like I’m worth studying.
“No, you’re gawking,” I smirk. “And already eating the blueberries.”
“Do you blame me?” She takes a couple of quick steps, wrapping her arms around my waist and laying her head on my back.
Mila swings her legs under the table already halfway through a glass of watermelon juice, grinning as she watches us. “This is the best breakfast ever.”
“What about my breakfast?” Annika asks Mila.
“Cereal doesn’t count. Bagels don’t count. If you don’t use the stove, it doesn’t count,” she says with her mouth full and a streak of syrup dangling on her lip.
I lift my spatula and shrug.
When the last piece is finished, I slide into the chair across from Mila, but my attention drifts back to Annika as she joins us, tucking one leg under herself, thinking about tonight.
Tonight.
Mila launches into a story about skating, how she almost landed a spin from a jump. She goes into detail about how fast she was going, the angle she needs to take and how much power she needs to get high enough to land it.
I listen. Not half-way.
Even though Mila isn’t our child, I want to make her life the best it can be. She’s so detailed just like Annika and me. Solving her own problem. “Sounds like the figure skating coach is working out.”
“I love her, P.” Mila’s voice is high and loud. And I love how she’s started calling me P like my family does sometimes.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more, but I never did double toe loops or triple axels. Way too graceful for me,” Annika chimes in.
Mila chokes on her ooey-gooey breakfast. “Yeah, you skate like a train. I skate like a gazelle.”
Our whole family took all the kids to the zoo last week and now she can’t stop talking about gazelles. And Mila’s right, Annika skates like a true hockey player and I can’t help but wonder what she could have been and the happiness that was stolen from her youth and her passion.
“Okay, dishes in the sink and wash your hands,” I say.
Mila will be with us all day while Nadia goes to the salon and gets ready for her first date in years. Mila and Annika work in the yard, planting flowers and making the outside look like a home, not just a house.
I catch myself daydreaming while I mow the grass.
Tonight.
Mila will be there tonight. I want to show her how much I love her sister.
Mila hasn’t seen her mom be loved. The same way I don’t remember seeing my dad with someone who loved him.
The fact that my dad hasn’t married or dated as far as I know, sends a stabbing pain through my chest. Because now that I’ve found love, I realize Mom would want him to be loved too.
As I put the mower in the shed, I walk over to my girls. Mila is covered in dirt. “Time to clean up. We don’t want to be late for Game Night.”
Ruffling Mila’s hair, she looks up at me with her big brown eyes. “Will Paulina be there? Is she bringing Trevor?”
She says his name, and I swear Paulina’s eyes flutter.
No. Not yet. She can’t like boys yet.
Annika tries to hide her smile, but it creeps over her face as she says, “She’ll be there. Not sure about Trevor. He may be playing tennis. Now let’s go inside.”
Dad’s place is already alive by the time we pull up.
It always is. We all grew up in this house.
Noelle and me, thick as thieves. I let out a deep sigh, wondering why Witt has always been distant.
He’s come out of his shell a little in the past couple of years, but it just shows you how relationships can shape you.
The second we step out of the car, I hear it—laughter from the backyard, someone yelling over a cornhole toss and the faint thud of a ping-pong ball echoing from the open basement door.
“Prepare yourself,” I murmur to Annika. “I know you’ve been around for a while, but Game Night is a different kind of O’Ryan family chaos.”
She glances at me smiling. “I love your family.”
“Give it five minutes, they’ll give you ten reasons to change your mind.” I squeeze her hand and I swear her smile makes my heart glow like a teenager in love.
Mila’s already running toward the noise where Greyson and Matt are in a heated cornhole match.
“That’s on!” Greyson argues.
“It’s not,” Matt fires back. He motions for Greyson to come over. “See for yourself.”
Greyson defends his throw. “The corner’s touching,” he says, taking out his phone, snapping a photo and then blowing it up.
I whisper in Annika’s ear. “Told you.”
“Parker!” Greyson shouts. “Tell Matt that counts.”
“I’m not getting involved,” I say back.
Matt mutters, “Coward.”
I throw my head back, chuckling. “I will say that if you have to take a picture then it shouldn’t count.”
Mila darts from cornhole toward the play structure where Paulina is helping two toddlers, Witley and Kane up the ladder.
“Be careful!” Noelle calls from the patio, smiling and enjoying being a parent.
Birdie leans back in her chair, sunglasses on, drink in hand. “They’ll survive, probably.”
She’s the cool parent, never hovering. But when they cry, she’s the first one to cradle them into her arms.
Inside it’s even louder.
Ping-pong balls snap back and forth in the basement, Granny and Dad going at it. “Hey Little Bit.”
“Hi Granny. What’s the score?”
“Fifteen all. But your dad is going down this time.”
Dad laughs, “You haven’t beaten me in forty years.”
“Today’s the day,” Granny shouts as she slams the ball in the corner that it bounces high off the table and Dad can’t get to it.
J.D. and Sutton are shouting over a video game tournament like it’s life or death.
“Rematch!” J.D. yells.
Sutton gets up doing her version of the football shuffle dance. “You got smoked.”
Annika stands just inside the doorway, taking it all in. Then she steps forward like she belongs. Because she does.
Mila runs inside screaming, “Trevor’s coming.”
Paulina grins beside her.
I move closer, my hand brushing Annika’s lower back. Witt sits in his usual spot, laptop open, fingers moving like he’s solving a problem the rest of us can’t see.
He glances up. “Hey.”
“Do you want to play me?” Annika asks.
He lifts both brows. “Me? You want to play against me in video games?” I know what he’s thinking. I’m the king of gaming. “That’s a no.”
Witt’s focus returns to his screen then he asks, “Have you considered changing your name back?”
Just like that. In an instant, Witt switches gears.
No lead-in. No hesitation.
Suddenly the room feels like everyone’s holding their breath. Annika stills beside me.
“Witt,” I warn.
“What?” he asks, taking extra time to look up again. “It’s inefficient.”
The basement fills as everyone files in from outside, escaping the scorching summer heat.
Greyson snorts from the doorway, sweat dripping from his brow. “He’s never known how to read a room.”
Witt ignores him, eyes locked on Annika now.
“It’s like you’re two different people,” he continues. “Nadia, Mila and Parker call you Annika. Everyone else calls you Anna Morrow.”
Annika shifts and tightens, but doesn’t flinch.
“I haven’t decided,” she replies carefully.
Witt knows what I’m doing. He’s the only one I could trust to keep a secret in this family. So, I knew he was going to say something about her name since it’s the cue. But I was going to do it outside.
I splay my hand over the small of her back.
Grounding her.
Hell, grounding me.
I don’t want her caught between names.
Between versions.
Between past and present.
I want her to have something new. Something chosen. Something that isn’t tied to fear or the past.
As I take a step back, the aura of the room shifts.
“Uh-oh,” J.D. mutters. “He’s doing something.”
I am. I drop to one knee.
And everything stops.
“Parker…” she breathes.
“Witt’s right about one thing,” I say. “You shouldn’t have to split yourself in two just to survive.”
Her eyes fill and I’ve never, ever, felt my dad’s house so hushed.
“And I’m not asking you to go back,” I say, my voice straining, full of so much emotion. “And I’m not asking you to stay the same.”
I pull the ring from my pocket, chest tightening, not with fear, but with absolute certainty.
“I’m asking you to move forward with me.”
A tear trails down over her cheek and hits the tile floor as she leans forward.
“I love you. All of you. Every version you’ve been and everything you’re still becoming.”
Silence isn’t an O’Ryan family virtue, but the room is quiet, even the babies are waiting for the proposal.
“And I want to keep building a life with you. One you don’t have to run or hide from.” I add softly, “Ever.”
I suck in a hot breath as I put my heart on the line in front of everyone that matters to me.
“How about we change your last name to O’Ryan?”
Her hand flies to her mouth, trembling. “Parker…”
“Will you marry me?” I ask.
For a moment she just stands there, causing my family to stir. She cries, her body shaking like the leaves on a windy day. Then she nods.
“Yeah,” she says barely above a whisper.
Then louder. “Yes. Yes!”
The room explodes with cheers, laughter and someone yelling something inappropriate, pretty sure it’s Greyson.
But I concentrate on the woman in my arms. She doesn’t even look at the ring. It’s still in my hand on her back as we hug.
For the first time in her life, she gets to choose and she’s choosing me.
I pull back and when I kiss her, slow and certain, there’s no question she’s my everything.
When we pull out of the kiss she screams, “I’m going to be an O’Ryan!”
She springs up, Sutton, Birdie and Noelle jumping with her in a circle. She doesn’t even care about the ring I spent a month’s salary on.
I found my person.
A person I can trust.
A person who cares about me, not fame or fortune.
The person that played with my head and won my heart and my trust.