Extended Epilogue
Sharon
My feet are the size of watermelons.
I'm not exaggerating. I'm looking down at them right now, propped up on a kitchen chair like two swollen beach balls that have decided to permanently attach themselves to my ankles.
Seven months pregnant, and apparently my body has decided that normal-sized feet are for people who aren't growing an entire human.
Pine's making pancakes at the stove in the new kitchen extension we had built six months ago.
The space is twice as big now, with windows that look out over the backyard and enough counter space for all three of my alphas to cook at once without bumping into each other.
Cassian's squeezing orange juice with the kind of aggressive enthusiasm that suggests he thinks the oranges personally offended him.
Jett's setting the table like we're hosting the Queen of England instead of just having breakfast on a Tuesday.
"Your feet look fine," Pine says without looking up from the stove.
"Liar," I say. "My feet look like I'm smuggling balloons under my skin."
"Beautiful balloons," Cassian adds, setting down a plate of bacon. "The most attractive foot-balloons I've ever seen."
I throw a napkin at him. He catches it without looking, which is annoyingly impressive.
This is my life now. Three alphas who think I'm gorgeous even when I waddle like a penguin and can't see my own feet.
A house that actually feels like home instead of just a place to keep my stuff.
Grandpa living in the spare bedroom in the extension, grumbling about his morning shows but secretly loving that we're all here together.
A business that exploded after we planned Tangle Peak's wedding and suddenly everyone in the country wanted us to plan theirs.
Bourbon Bliss Weddings went from "please someone hire us" to "we're booked solid for the next two years" in about six months.
Savannah made me a full partner, which means I now co-own a wedding planning business.
Me. The girl who showed up in Pine Hollow a year ago planning her ex's fraudulent wedding and stress-eating brownies in hotel rooms.
Life is weird.
From down the hall, I can hear Grandpa's television blaring his morning news show.
Jett spends most mornings with him now, making sure he takes his medications and eats breakfast before settling in for his shows.
Jett's working part-time doing online stunt coordination consulting, teaching other stunt performers through video calls and recorded courses.
It's less money than he made before, but it lets him be here.
Lets him help with Grandpa. Lets him be present for this pregnancy and everything that comes after.
"How many weddings do we have next month?" Jett asks, sitting down with his pancakes.
"Four," I say, already exhausted thinking about it. "But Maya's handling two of them mostly on her own, and Jessica's got the other one under control. I'm just doing the Morgan wedding because the bride specifically requested me."
Maya is our new assistant. She's twenty-two, enthusiastic to the point of being slightly terrifying, and somehow has more energy than all three of my alphas combined.
Jessica and I have been training her, and she's actually really good at this job.
Which is great, because it means I can slow down before I have this baby and my body decides walking is no longer an option.
"You're not doing anything," Pine says, finally turning away from the stove with a plate of perfect pancakes. "You're seven months pregnant. You're going to sit in chairs and tell other people what to do."
"That's literally my job anyway," I point out.
"Then you're going to do it sitting down," Cassian says, stealing a piece of bacon from my plate. "Non-negotiable."
I eat my pancakes and let them fuss over me because honestly, arguing with three protective alphas when you're this pregnant is exhausting. They mean well. They're just also incredibly annoying about it.
Grandpa shuffles into the kitchen wearing his bathrobe and slippers. He's moving slower these days but his mind is still sharp. He takes one look at my feet and shakes his head.
"You look like you swallowed a basketball," he says, which is his version of affection.
"Good morning to you too," I say.
Jett immediately stands and gets Grandpa settled at the table with pancakes and coffee. Watching him take care of Grandpa makes something warm settle in my chest. This is what family looks like. Not perfect. Not always easy. But real and present and showing up for each other.
After breakfast, Pine and Cassian clean up while Jett helps Grandpa back to his room for his shows. My phone buzzes with a text from Jessica: Need to talk. Coming over in twenty minutes. Bringing donuts.
I show the text to Pine. "Jessica's coming over. She says she needs to talk."
"Is she okay?" Pine asks, immediately concerned because apparently my pack has adopted my best friend as an honorary pack member.
"I don't know," I say. "But she's bringing donuts, so it's either really good news or really bad news."
Twenty minutes later, Jessica arrives with a box of donuts and a slightly panicked expression.
We settle on the back porch of the extension, the new deck that looks out over the yard.
It's a nice day and the fresh air feels good against my skin.
The kitchen is currently occupied by three alphas who are pretending not to eavesdrop while doing dishes.
"I think I'm going into heat," Jessica says, opening the donut box and immediately stress-eating a chocolate glazed.
I blink. "You're a beta."
"I know," Jessica says, taking another bite. "But my scent is changing. I'm emotional about everything. I cried at a dog food commercial yesterday. And I'm pretty sure I'm about to go into heat, which shouldn't be possible because betas don't have heats."
"Some betas do," I say slowly, working through what this means. "It's rare, but some betas develop omega characteristics as they get older. Usually triggered by meeting the right alpha or being around omegas or just biology doing whatever biology wants."
Jessica looks at me with slightly wild eyes. "I don't want to be an omega. I like being a beta. Betas are stable and consistent and don't lose their minds once every few months."
"You're not going to lose your mind," I say, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "You're going to be fine. We'll figure this out together."
"Promise?" Jessica asks, and she sounds so vulnerable that my chest hurts.
"Promise," I say. "We'll get you to a doctor, figure out what's happening, and go from there. And if you do transition to omega, you'll have support. You'll have me. You'll have my pack if you need them. You're not doing this alone."
Jessica eats another donut and nods. "Okay. Okay, I can handle this."
"You can handle anything," I say firmly. "You're the most competent person I know. You're going to take being an omega and turn it into another thing you're unreasonably good at."
That makes her laugh, which was the goal.
We sit on the porch eating donuts and talking about her symptoms and making plans to see a specialist. The wood of the deck is warm under my bare feet. The sun is bright overhead. Jessica's hands shake slightly when she reaches for another donut but her expression is determined.
By the time she leaves, she's calmer. Still freaked out, but calmer.
Later that afternoon, I'm in the living room with my feet up again because they've somehow gotten even more swollen, when my phone rings. Unknown number from Montana.
I almost don't answer. But something makes me pick up.
"Sharon?" The voice is familiar in a way that makes my stomach clench. "It's Ben."
I sit up straighter, which is difficult when you're this pregnant. My back protests the movement. "Ben."
"I wanted to call," he says, and his voice sounds different. Steadier. Less desperate. "I wanted you to know that I'm still clean. It's been eight months since Montana. Since you and Pine visited."
Eight months. Since that family day at the rehab facility. Since we drove four hours to see him and he apologized with clear eyes and genuine remorse. That's real time. Real progress.
"How are you doing?" I ask, because I need to hear it in his voice.
"Good," Ben says, and I can hear the truth in it. "Really good. I finished the program. Moved into a sober living house for a while. Got a job as a janitor at an elementary school. Been working the steps with my sponsor. Going to meetings. Doing the work."
The exhaustion in his voice is the kind that comes from actually putting in effort. From showing up every day and choosing to be better.
"I'm proud of you," I say, and I mean it. "That's real progress, Ben."
"I wanted to thank you," he says quietly. "For coming to Montana. For showing up when you didn't have to. It meant everything. It made me realize people were actually rooting for me. That I had something worth staying clean for."
My throat tightens. "We're glad you're doing better."
"I'm calling to apologize again," Ben says. "I know I said it before but I want to say it now that I'm further along in recovery. I'm sorry for everything. For how I treated you when we were together. For the wedding mess. For trying to use you. For all of it. You didn't deserve any of that."
I take a breath. The baby kicks under my ribs like she's reminding me that life moves forward. "No, I didn't."
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," he says quickly. "I know I don't deserve it. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. And that I'm trying to be better every day."
"I appreciate that," I say. "Really."
"Take care of yourself, Sharon," Ben says. "You deserve all the good things."
He hangs up before I can respond.
I sit there holding the phone, processing the conversation.
Ben sounded genuine. He sounded like someone who's actually doing the work of getting better.
The trip to Montana in the spring feels like it happened years ago instead of months.
Seeing him in that facility with clear eyes.
Hearing him apologize to Pine. Watching him take responsibility.
It doesn't erase what he did, but it's something.
Pine walks in from the extension where he was helping Grandpa with something and immediately reads my expression. "Who was that?"
"Ben," I say. "He's eight months clean now. Still working as a janitor. Called to apologize again."
Pine settles onto the couch next to me and pulls me against his side. His warmth seeps into my skin. "How do you feel about that?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Glad he's doing better? Still processing everything he put us through? Both at the same time?"
"Both is allowed," Pine says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "You don't have to have it all figured out right now."
Later, when all three of my alphas are home and we're having dinner around the new dining table in the extension, I tell them about Ben's call. Grandpa is eating with us tonight, sitting at the head of the table like he belongs there. Because he does.
They're cautiously optimistic about Ben.
Cassian says he's been talking to Ben's sponsor, and the reports are consistently good.
Jett mentions that Ben calls every Thursday, same time, checking in with them.
Pine says in four more months, if Ben's still clean, they'll talk about the will like they promised.
The trip to Montana changed something. Seeing Ben in that facility, hearing his apology, watching him take real steps toward recovery. It gave all of us hope that maybe this time is actually different.
"I'm glad he's getting better," I say, pushing food around my plate. The baby is pressing against my stomach and making eating difficult. "I really am."
As for Penelope, apparently she snuck into Tangle Peak's wedding reception, caught the eye of a rockstar performing as a surprise guest, and they're currently touring together.
From what I've heard, she's much happier on stage with someone she actually loves than she ever was planning fraud schemes with Ben.
Life has a way of working out, even when it seems impossible.
"Are you happy?" Cassian asks later that night when we're all settled on the couch in the new living room area, watching a movie I'm definitely going to fall asleep during.
Grandpa is already asleep in his room down the hall.
The house is quiet except for the television and the sound of us breathing.
"Yes," I say without hesitation. "I'm exhausted and my feet are enormous and I can't see past my own belly, but yes. I'm happy."
"Good," Jett says, his hand finding mine in the dark. "That's all we want."
I fall asleep before the movie ends, surrounded by my pack, feeling the baby kick beneath my palm. One year ago, I was planning my ex's wedding and questioning everything about myself. Now I'm here. Home. Happy. Building a life I never thought I could have.
Cassian's hand is warm on my ankle, careful around the swelling. Jett's fingers are laced through mine. Pine's scent wraps around me like a blanket, cedar and smoke and safety.
My business is thriving. My best friend is discovering herself.
My ex is genuinely getting clean this time.
Grandpa is living with us in the extension we built just for him.
Jett is home every day, working online and being present.
And I'm about to become a mother to a little girl who's going to be loved by three incredible alphas and one very determined omega who still can't believe this is her life.
Life is weird and beautiful and chaotic and exactly what it should be.
And I can't forget who I must thank for all of this.
Thank you, universe, for making me late to that first meeting.
For putting me in Pine Hollow when I needed it most. For giving me three alphas who see me for who I actually am instead of who I was trying to be.
For taking what should have been the worst job of my life and turning it into the beginning of everything.