Epilogue
Six Months Later
Jonah
I’m having a cup of coffee, taking a break from the bakery when I hear Chloe in the bathroom.
Again.
That’s the third morning this week she’s been sick, and I’m starting to worry. She keeps saying it’s just stress —end of the school year, final report cards, the wedding planning— but something in my gut tells me it’s more than that.
I wash my hands and knock on the bathroom door. “Chloe? You okay?”
Silence. Then the sound of the toilet flushing, water running.
The door opens, and she’s standing there in one of my old t-shirts, her face pale, her eyes wide with something I can’t quite read.
“I need to tell you something,” she says.
My heart stops. Those words… they never lead anywhere good. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just—” She takes a shaky breath. “Come with me.”
She leads me back to our bedroom, and that’s when I see it on the nightstand. A white plastic stick.
A pregnancy test?
“Chloe—”
“I’m pregnant.” The words come out in a rush. “I know we didn’t plan this. We’ve only been engaged for two months, and the wedding’s not until September, and I just started my permanent contract, and I should’ve been more careful—”
I cross the room in two strides, picking up the test to see the crossed pink lines.
We’re having a baby.
We’re having a baby!
“Jonah?” Her voice is small, uncertain. “Say something. Please.”
I set down the test and drag her into my arms, holding her so tight I’m afraid I might break her. But I can’t let go. Can’t process this without touching her, grounding myself in the reality of her.
“Sorry?” I pull back to look at her face. “You think I’m upset about this?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“Chloe.” I cup her face in both hands, making sure she sees every bit of what I’m feeling. “This is the best surprise I’ve ever gotten. The absolute best.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” I kiss her, trying to pour everything into it —all my love, all my joy, all my absolute certainty that this is exactly what I want. “I love you. I love the life we’re building. And I’m going to love this baby so much.”
“The twins are going to lose their minds,” she says, laughing and crying at the same time.
“They’re going to be incredible big sisters.” I pull her against my chest, and I can feel my own heart racing. “When did you figure it out?”
“Last week. I’ve been exhausted, and sick in the mornings, and I thought maybe it was just stress, but then I realized I was late.” She looks up at me. “Are you really okay with this? Another baby? We already have the twins, and you’re so busy with the bakery—”
“Hey,” I cut her off gently. “I’ve been thinking about this since the day you moved back in. About us having kids together. I just didn’t want to pressure you.”
“You want more kids? With me?”
“Only with you.” I rest my hand on her stomach, still flat but holding our baby. Our baby. “How far along are you?”
“Maybe six, seven weeks? I have to call the doctor Monday.” She covers my hand with hers. “We’re really doing this.”
“We’re really doing this.” I can’t stop grinning. “We’re getting married in three months, and then we’re having a baby. The twins are going to have a little brother or sister.”
“We need to tell them,” Chloe says. “Soon. Before I start showing.”
“Tonight. We’ll make it special.” I kiss her forehead. “And my mom—”
“Is going to cry,” Chloe finishes.
“So much.”
And she does.
When we call her an hour later, Mom bursts into tears and promises to bring sparkling cider for dinner to celebrate.
That evening, we gather around the kitchen table —the four of us, soon to be five, soon to be six— and I reach for Chloe’s hand.
“Girls, Chloe and I have some news,” I say.
Ava and Mia look up from their spaghetti, eyes wide and curious.
“You’re getting married,” Mia says. “We already know that. We’re flower girls.”
“We are getting married,” Chloe confirms, squeezing my hand. “But we have other news too. You’re going to be big sisters.”
I watch their faces as they process this.
Then Ava gasps. “We’re getting a baby?”
“We’re getting a baby,” I confirm. “In about seven months.”
“A real baby?” Mia’s eyes are huge. “Like, a tiny baby we can hold?”
“A real baby. Your little brother or sister.”
The squeals are deafening. Both girls launch themselves out of their chairs, crashing into us. Mia wraps her arms around Chloe’s middle, pressing her ear to her stomach.
“Hi, baby,” she whispers. “I’m your big sister Mia. I’m going to teach you everything.”
“I’m going to teach you more,” Ava argues. “Because I’m older.”
“By thwee minutes!”
I catch Chloe’s eye over their heads. She’s laughing and crying, and I know I am too.
This is my family. My whole world. And it’s about to get even bigger.
Eight years ago, Rachel left and I thought my life was over. Thought I’d never trust anyone again. Never let anyone close enough to hurt me.
But Chloe walked through my door in a snowstorm, took charge of a flour explosion, and slowly —piece by piece— put me back together.
She chose us. Chose me. And I chose her, too. Even when she was terrified. Even when it would have been easier to run.
And now we’re here. Building the life I was too scared to dream about.
“I love you,” I mouth to her.
“I love you too,” she mouths back.
Mom arrives with enough food to feed the neighborhood and takes approximately five hundred photos. The twins spend the entire evening planning nursery colors and arguing about baby names. Chloe’s hand never leaves mine.
Later, after the girls are asleep and Mom’s gone home, Chloe and I stand in what will become the nursery— the guest room that’s currently full of storage boxes.
“We need to clear this out,” she says. “Paint it. Get furniture.”
“We have time.” I wrap my arms around her from behind, my hands settling protectively over her stomach. Over our baby. “But yes. We’ll make it perfect.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. The wedding, the baby—”
I kiss her neck. “Look at you. Teaching full-time. Planning our wedding. Growing our baby.”
“Our baby.” She turns in my arms. “That still feels surreal.”
“It will feel real in about seven months when they’re screaming at two AM.” I grin. “I can’t wait.”
“You’re insane.”
“About you? Absolutely.” I kiss her, slow and deep, trying to show her what words can’t quite capture. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming back. For choosing us. For giving me this— all of this.” My voice cracks. “I never thought I’d have this again. Real love. Partnership. A family that feels complete. And then you walked through my door and changed everything.”
“Best decision I ever made,” she whispers. “Answering that ad. Coming to Valentine. Choosing you.”
“Best decision I ever made was not letting you go.” I rest my forehead against hers. “I almost did, you know. When you told me about the Billings job, part of me wanted to let you leave. Protect myself from getting hurt… again.”
“What stopped you?”
“You did. The look in your eyes when you said you didn’t know what to do.
You weren’t running because you wanted to— you were running because you were scared.
And I realized I was doing the same thing.
” I stroke her cheek. “We were both so afraid of losing each other that we almost lost each other anyway.”
“But we didn’t.” She kisses me softly. “We chose to be brave instead.”
“You chose to be brave. I just had the good sense to chase after you.”
“We chased each other.” She smiles. “Your mom told me you were on your way to Billings when I showed up.”
“I was. I had a whole speech prepared about how I didn’t care if you were scared, that I’d spend the rest of my life proving you made the right choice.” I laugh. “And then you were standing on my porch, covered in rose petals, giving me the speech I was going to give you.”
“Great minds,” she says.
“Great hearts,” I correct. “We have hearts that were meant to find each other.”
We stand there in the future nursery, holding each other, thinking about everything ahead.
The wedding in September— Chloe in white, the twins as flower girls, promising forever in front of everyone who matters.
The baby in January— late-night feedings and tiny fingers and the twins fighting over who gets to hold them first. Years and years of mornings in the bakery, bedtime stories, family dinners, watching our children grow.
I almost let fear win. Almost let her walk away because I was too scared of being hurt again.
But I didn’t.
I chose love instead. Chose to trust. Chose to believe that some things are worth the risk.
And now I have everything I never knew I needed.
“Jonah?” Chloe’s voice pulls me back. “Where’d you go?”
“Just thinking about how lucky I am.” I kiss the top of her head. “How lucky we are.”
“The luckiest,” she agrees.
We head back to our bedroom, to our bed, to our life.
And as I fall asleep with Chloe in my arms and my hand on her stomach where our baby is growing, I think about that day she walked through my door.
How she took charge of a flour explosion.
How she loved my daughters like they were hers.
How she taught me that love doesn’t have to be scary— it just has to be real.
And this —us— is the realest thing I’ve ever known.