Bonus Epilogue
Hartford
I’m still not entirely convinced this is real, even as the searing sunlight and salty sea breeze greet me the second we step off the tiny plane.
A laugh bubbles from my throat, an almost disbelieving giggle, while Paxton squeezes my hand.
He’s been acting so proud of himself since he revealed this last-minute tropical getaway—just in time for Valentine’s Day.
I can’t help but beam at him, my mind already drifting to images of sandy beaches, icy mocktails, and maybe a stolen nap under a swaying palm tree.
We weave our way through the small outdoor airport, the temperature so blissfully warm compared to the winter cold back home.
My free hand drifts to rest on my lower abdomen, where, although just nine weeks along, our baby is quietly growing.
The thought fills me with equal parts excitement and a strange, new kind of worry.
It’s real, I remind myself. We’re going to be parents.
Paxton tugs on my hand, pulling me out of my reverie. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling up at him. “Just…happy. I think it’s sinking in that I get to spend an entire week with you, alone.”
He gives me that lopsided grin I love, dimples flashing. “I know, right? I was starting to forget what your face looks like,” he jokes, pretending to squint at me. “Then again, I’ve seen about a hundred selfies of you in the last few weeks.”
“Oh, please.” I jab him lightly in the ribs. “You know you like those selfies.”
“Love them,” he corrects, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
We pick up our bags—thankfully not heavy enough to strain me—and follow the resort’s driver to a waiting jeep.
On the short ride to the property, Paxton entertains me with stories of his recent work trips.
Between tastings at Atta Boy Brewery events, forging new distribution deals, and basically living on the road, we haven’t had much time to just be together.
I listen, enthralled, even though I’ve heard most of these details over the phone.
It’s different hearing them in person, with him right next to me, hand resting on my thigh, the ocean flickering into view every few minutes.
Soon, we turn onto a lush palm-lined driveway. My jaw drops as we pass rows of vibrant tropical flowers and eventually reach a large, open-air lobby. Laughter and music float on the breeze, mixing with the crash of distant waves.
“Wow,” I whisper. “This is…incredible.”
He winks. “Just wait till you see the room.”
A friendly concierge greets us with fruity welcome drinks—mine is alcohol-free, of course.
I take a sip, delighting in the tangy sweetness.
After checking in, we wander through winding paths bordered by blossoming hibiscus until we reach our villa.
When Paxton unlocks the door and pushes it open, my breath catches.
The entire suite is spacious, decorated in muted ocean blues and crisp whites, all of it centered around a sliding glass wall that opens directly onto a private beach.
The curtains flutter in the balmy breeze, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of turquoise water.
I can almost feel the sand beneath my toes already.
“Paxton…” My heart thuds. “Are you sure we can afford this?”
He shoots me a conspiratorial grin. “That’s the best part. We didn’t have to.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
He sets our suitcases down and steps forward to wrap his arms around my waist. “Devereaux owed me a favor. You remember Devereaux, the owner of Club Greed?”
“Of course. Big personality, bigger heart.” I remember him being mysterious, possessive, but always kind.
“Well, he decided to repay that favor with something extravagant—like a trip for two, all expenses paid.” Paxton shrugs, trying to hide his excitement behind nonchalance, but his green eyes sparkle. “He covered the whole thing. Even the special suite.”
I let out a breathy laugh, leaning my forehead against his chest. “That’s… amazing.” I tilt my head up to look at him. “Guess I owe Devereaux a very nice thank-you card.”
He gently tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “You owe me a kiss first,” he teases.
I oblige, standing on my tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. The tropical air wraps around us, and for a blissful moment, it’s just the two of us—no rushing, no schedules, no frantic phone calls. Just the promise of a week of leisure, laughter, and love.
He pulls away first, softly nudging me toward the open glass doors. “Come on, Mrs. Atta Boy Brewery—”
I roll my eyes, bursting into laughter. “I am not ‘Mrs. Atta Boy Brewery.’ That is the worst nickname.”
He just laughs, grabs my hand, and steps onto the warm sand. “Feel that?” he murmurs. The beach is quiet, secluded, exactly as advertised. As the waves lap gently at the shoreline, I close my eyes and inhale the salt-kissed air.
“It’s perfect,” I say, turning back to him. My fingers automatically slide over my stomach again. “Everything is perfect. Almost like you planned it that way.”
He glances down at my hand and then meets my eyes.
“I just wanted to do something special before…everything changes.” His voice is quiet with a thread of emotion beneath the playful tone.
“We’re about to be parents, Hart.” He shakes his head like he’s still astonished by the idea.
“I already love this little peanut so much.”
My eyes prick with tears—maybe it’s just the hormones, maybe it’s the reality of how blessed we are. I blink them back, not wanting to go full waterworks on day one of our romantic vacation. Instead, I kiss him again. Longer this time.
When we finally pull apart, we stand for a moment in comfortable silence, listening to the surf and the rustle of palms. Then Paxton breaks the mood with his usual teasing grin. “Wanna go put on swimsuits and jump into the ocean? We can pretend it’s our private bathtub.”
I laugh, swatting at him. “As fun as that sounds, I think I might need a nap first. I’m exhausted.”
He pouts dramatically. “Fine, pregnancy nap. I get it. But after your nap, it’s strictly ocean time, plus a Valentine’s dinner. I have a special reservation planned. Because I’m the best husband ever.”
My heart warms. “You’re not wrong. You really are the best. And I’m so glad you’re mine.”
We head back into the suite, unable to resist poking around and exclaiming over every thoughtful detail—the perfect palm-leaf pillows, the flower petals arranged in heart shapes on the bed (so cheesy but also so sweet), and a little candy sampler labeled “Valentine’s Indulgences.
” Paxton scoops up a chocolate for me, and I grin, savoring the sweetness.
I sink onto the bed, letting my eyes drift closed as Paxton opens the suitcase in search of his trunks. Distantly, I hear him shuffling around and humming some love song off-key. The soft sound of waves is a lullaby I can’t resist.
For a moment, all my nerves about becoming a mom, all the worry about finances and the baby’s health, fade away. Right here, right now, we have each other—on a perfect island escape, celebrating love, celebrating life, and soon, celebrating the new life we’re bringing into the world.
I open my eyes to see Paxton standing at the foot of the bed, wearing his swim shorts and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He extends his arms wide, as though inviting me to admire him. “You sure you can resist a dip in the ocean?” he asks, lips curving into that devastating grin.
I laugh and yank a pillow to throw at him. “Go on without me. I’ll join you in half an hour.”
As he dashes outside with a mock-salute, the glass door sliding quietly shut behind him, I smile to myself.
This is exactly the vacation we need. And somehow, I know it’s the perfect beginning to this new chapter of our lives—a moment of joy and connection before we welcome a tiny new person into our already crazy, beautiful love story.
Paxton
I kick off my sandals and take a few steps into the warm sand, squinting against the vibrant sunlight.
It’s beautiful here, picturesque in a way that almost feels surreal.
The hotel staff was right—this beach is practically deserted, and I can’t spot anyone else for at least half a mile.
Perfect for a sneak peek of island solitude.
Waves lap at my ankles, the water a jewel-toned turquoise.
A breeze drifts past, carrying the soft crash of surf and the faint scent of coconut oil from somewhere close by.
For the first time in months, I feel like I can finally take a breath.
No endless phone calls, no hurried long drives for sales meetings.
Just me, Hartford, and this slice of paradise.
I wade a bit deeper and sink into the water, letting it buoy me up.
My muscles unwind, tension loosening from my shoulders.
It’s been intense lately—ramping up business deals for the brewery, ensuring I can provide for my growing family, trying to fill Dad’s big shoes in more ways than one.
I can’t imagine telling Hartford how worried I’ve been about money, or whether I’m making the right moves for the future.
She’d say it’s all going to be fine, and I want to believe her.
But sometimes, the doubt creeps in anyway.
Because it’s not just about me and Hartford anymore; soon, we’ll have a baby.
A tiny human entirely dependent on us—on me.
My father’s always been my hero: patient, caring, always knew the right thing to say.
Shepherd is following in his footsteps, a brand-new dad, handling parenthood like he was born to do it.
And here I am, in the middle, wondering if I have what it takes to be that kind of father.