Epilogue
Cal
Silvie lies on a towel, her legs stretched out, one hand resting on the small curve of her belly. She’s not showing much yet. Just enough that I notice when she shifts her weight. And I can’t stop noticing. I love everything about that woman.
I didn’t know it, but Silvie and her dad have been working to establish an office here in Coconut Beach as well as back in Manhattan.
It appears that most of the board doesn’t mind the travel, and several have decided to move down here as well.
This works out for Silvie, because she loves it here and says the beach air seems to soothe the nausea in a way Manhattan never could.
So, we’re here for now. I’m surfing and she’s barefoot in the sand, the sun spilling over Coconut Beach, waking up the island.
I stare out at her and think of how we built this.
I watch her close her eyes and tip her face toward the sun.
Her hair lifts in the breeze, gold against the morning light, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful and powerful than the woman carrying our baby.
The woman who could choose anyone and chose me.
I lay down my board and sit behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, pressing my chin into her shoulder.
She sighs and leans into me, not caring that I’m getting her wet.
“How’s the nausea today?”
“Manageable,” she says. “The ocean helps. I have no idea how, but it does.”
“It’s yours,” I tell her. “I bought it for you.”
She laughs softly. “You can’t buy the ocean, dork.”
“Watch me.”
She shakes her head and leans back into me, that simple trust that still feels unreal sometimes. For a long time, I braced myself for this to end. Because I never wanted to. But she isn’t.
We found a new place together in Manhattan.
It’s more family-friendly, and she’s got a designer making it into a home for us.
I’m expanding my cottage here as much as I can.
Our cottage. I told her we could find something bigger, but she assured me this was all we needed.
She likes being close to my mom and Birdie, and I love that, too.
“You know,” she says casually. “We’re going to need to make the cottage a little bigger.”
I kiss her temple. “It’ll be fine. I’ve already talked to the contractor.”
“No,” she says, and there’s something mischievous in her voice. “Bigger.”
“We have plenty of room for the nursery.”
She turns toward me, eyes bright, and says, “The babies need more room.”
My brain catches on. “Babies?” I repeat.
She grins and reaches into the bag beside her, pulling out an ultrasound photo. She holds it up. “Babies.”
For a second, I just stare at the image of two blobs in the picture. It dawns on me that there are, in fact, two.
“Two?” I say again, because apparently, I’m speechless and only capable of a few words. “But I thought there was only one.”
“Me too,” she says with a chuckle. “But there was another little one hiding in there.”
“Holy shit.”
“We’re going to practically be outnumbered,” she teases.
I let out a breath that turns into a laugh. “There are two of us, Silvie. They don’t outnumber us.”
My hands shake a little as I take the photo from her, stare at it, and smile.
I wonder what they’ll look like. I always grew up wondering whose eyes I had and who I took after.
My kids will never wonder. They will always know both their parents.
I pull her even closer, hand protectively over her stomach.
“As long as they’re healthy,” I murmur.
She softens immediately. “Yeah.”
I kiss her slowly, tasting her mint toothpaste, my hands sliding down her arms, and she laughs against my mouth. “You’re going to need a bigger truck.”
“I’m going to need a bigger everything,” I reply.
I kneel in the sand in front of her and press my lips to her belly. “Hey,” I say. “You’ve got two parents who love the hell out of you. You hear me?”
She threads her fingers through my hair. “You’re already a great dad.”
I look up at her and grin. “My mom is going to lose her mind when she finds out it’s twins.”
That thought makes my chest tighten in the best way.
My mom has been working so hard on herself.
She was beside herself when we told her Silvie was pregnant.
She even flew to New York with us last month.
It was rough on the way, but once she got there, she felt good at Silvie’s penthouse.
She relaxed, and we had a great time. Progress.
She walked through Central Park with Silvie and even chatted with the doorman. She’s working hard in therapy, and she told me last week that she wants to be the best grandma to this baby. Now there are two of them.
Donna is working on getting her up to visit Wisteria Cove at the end of the year. She’s trying.
Silvie leans into me, watching me. “What are you thinking about?”
“Just thinking about how our kids are going to get to have skylines and sunrises at the beach.”
She smiles slowly. “Yeah, they will.”
I kiss her again, slower this time. Deeper. My hands slide along her back and settle at her hips, holding her steady against me. She sighs softly into my mouth, and for a second, it’s just us. The ocean rolling in and out. The sun is climbing higher.
That night we have dinner at Cocktails & Chaos. My mom even shows up. She tells us she doesn’t think she’ll stay long, but I’m just happy she’s here.
Wilby is here with Summer, Wendy, Mia, and Juniper. The Bees aren’t coming. They said they had something to do, which could be alarming or exciting.
Jonah quietly pulls out a chair and sits next to my mom. I see her visibly relax when she realizes it’s him. They have always been friends, and I love that we have him as part of our unofficial family.
Wilby is on one side of me, and Silvie is on my right. He’s watching us curiously and grins. “You know...at the end of the day, it’s the random girl that you became friends with on a completely random evening at your bar. And now you can’t imagine your life without her.”
I snort. “Isn’t that the truth?”
“What are you two yapping about?” Silvie asks with a grin.
“You,” Wilby says as he holds up his beer in cheers to us. Silvie holds up her water, and I tip my beer in as well. “Cheers.”
I look around at this table and these people and I’m grateful for the beautiful life that we have.
Silvie
I’m sitting outside the window of the nursery with my feet propped up in a chair, a glass of lemonade sweating in my hand.
The nursery windows are open behind me, white curtains lifting softly in the breeze.
The room smells faintly of fresh paint and cedar from the new built-ins.
Because apparently, we don’t do anything halfway.
Cal is putting together one of the cribs on the floor of the nursery.
He insisted on assembling them himself. He said something about knowing every screw and bolt that holds our babies together.
And I’m not surprised. Cal has been thinking of everything.
Wilby’s got things covered at work and Cal covers things at home.
Which is good, because pregnancy brain is a real thing.
Cal is shirtless and focused. It’s also deeply unfair how hot fatherhood looks on him already.
“You missed a screw,” I say sweetly.
He glances up, squinting at me and smirks. “No, I didn’t.”
“I can sense it.”
He snorts. “CEO intuition?”
“Mother’s intuition.”
He glances through the window, as if he’s admiring me. “You’re glowing,” he murmurs.
“I’m sweaty.”
“Glowing,” he corrects. “You’re beautiful.”
We both look up as Summer comes barreling through like a gust of wind. Blonde hair piled on top of her head. Oversized sunglasses. Dramatic as ever. And that’s why we love her.
“I bring snacks and gossip,” she announces as she holds up a drink tray and a paper bag which I hope are treats.
“Come on over, hurricane,” Cal teases.
She flops down next to me and kicks her sandals off.
“You two look disgustingly happy,” she tells me.
“We are.”
“I can’t believe you’re having twins,” she says. “I can’t even decide what I want at a restaurant.”
Cal chuckles and disappears to probably give us girl time.
Summer leans closer to me conspiratorially.
“So,” she says slowly, “Dayton’s back.”
My eyebrow lifts.
“Really?”
“Unfortunately,” she says. “Apparently, he’s able to work from here.”
He and Summer have history. Complicated history.
“Why are you so bothered?” I ask gently.
“I am not bothered,” she says quickly.
She’s absolutely bothered.
I smirk.
“Good,” I say. “Because last time he was in town and he walked by us at Chaos, he couldn’t stop staring at you.”
She blinks. “He did not.”
“He did.”
She exhales slowly and looks out toward the water. “That man thinks he can just buzzkill all of my ideas for my mom’s house,” she mutters.
Ah. There it is.
Cal comes outside and joins us. “Who are we hating?” he asks casually.
“Dayton,” Summer says immediately.
Cal nods once and grins. “He probably deserves it. What did he do this time?”
Cal and Dayton went to school together, so they are friends but give each other crap.
She tosses the paper bag at him. “Exist.”
I lean back in my chair, watching the way the breeze moves through the palm trees. The way the ocean glints. The way this place feels steady.
I never thought I’d split my life between Manhattan and Coconut Beach. Now I can’t imagine not having both. I love my husband and the family we’re making, but I hate seeing my friend go through a bad time.
Summer stares at the horizon like she’s trying to solve something as well. “What if he ruins everything for me?” she asks quietly.
“What if he makes it better?” I say lightly.
She looks at me. “And, what if I want him?”
Cal makes a noise in his throat. “I didn’t hear that,” he says.
Summer laughs, but it’s softer now.
The sun dips lower, painting everything in warm gold. My hand slides into Cal’s automatically. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, grounding me.
“You don’t have to decide anything today,” I tell her. “Let’s see what he does.”
She watches a figure walking along the distant shoreline. Tall. Broad shoulders. Familiar stride. Dayton.
Cal leans closer to me and murmurs, “This should be interesting.”
I smile slowly. Summer’s story is about to get very interesting.
Six Months Later
“Who is Carl the cab driver?” Wilby asks, “And why are we sending him a Christmas card?”
I laugh. “It’s a long story. But he’s the cab driver when I left the wedding with Tyler. And if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have ended up in Coconut Beach.”
Wilby nods as if this makes perfect sense. Because it does.
Sometimes life has a way of working out how you least expect it.
The End.