Epilogue
Jules
I swallow hard as I start the timer on my phone. In three minutes, we’ll know. Three minutes to find out if I’m pregnant, and somehow, the anticipation is heavier than I expected.
“I’m so nervous,” I murmur, curling into Corbin’s chest, where his heartbeat drums a steady rhythm beneath my ear.
He holds me tighter. “It’s going to be okay.”
“We talked about waiting a little longer…” My voice falters.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says softly. “We both want this. And we’re already great parents to Tate.”
“True,” I admit, resting my hand over his heart. “I just don’t want to mess up what we’ve rebuilt. What if it puts pressure on us?”
Corbin lets out a low, warm laugh. “Jules, there’s less pressure on us now than ever. We’re stronger. We know what matters.”
I exhale, my shoulders slowly relaxing. “That’s also true.”
“I kind of miss early mornings with a newborn,” he says after a beat.
“I don’t,” I groan. “At least not the middle-of-the-night feedings.”
“Then I’ll take the night shift this time,” he replies, so easily, like he’s already made peace with the chaos.
I look up at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”
“Really,” he says again, smoothing a hand over my back. “You’ve carried so much, Jules. I want to carry some of it, too.”
“But you just launched your business.”
He shrugs. “And you have a thriving one. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
I smile. “Remember when Tate would fall asleep on your chest and you’d pass out watching football?”
“I do,” he says, his voice a little hoarse as he cups my cheek. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to watch football again.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, light and full. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he grins. “But whatever that test says… we’re ready. I’m ready.”
My gaze drifts toward the off-white wedding dress hanging by the door, sunlight catching in its delicate folds. “We’re getting married today.”
“I know.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Not from fear. Not from doubt. Just this beautiful, fragile disbelief that everything I dared not speak out loud is happening. Everything I wanted. Corbin. Tate. A home. Maybe even more.
It’s all here.
It’s finally here.
The timer goes off.
My breath catches in my throat. “You ready?” I whisper.
Corbin nods without hesitation. “I’ve never been more ready.”
I reach for the pregnancy test on the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly. Corbin steps in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist like he’s anchoring me in place. His chin comes to rest on my shoulder, warm and steady.
Two pink lines.
Clear. Unmistakable. Life-altering.
“Pregnant,” Corbin breathes, his voice thick with emotion.
“Pregnant,” I echo, and just like that, tears flood my eyes.
We both just stand there, holding each other like we might drift away otherwise. Kissing between whispered laughs and cries. Grieving the time we lost and celebrating the second chance we never thought we’d get.
Tate doesn’t just get his parents back. He gets something he’s been quietly wishing for, without ever saying the words out loud.
A sibling.
Corbin’s hand finds my stomach, his palm steady and reverent. “How do you feel?”
I take a long breath, one that reaches somewhere deep in my soul. “Happy. Overwhelmed. But mostly happy.”
“Me too,” he murmurs, and kisses me like a promise.
Then he grins, pulling back just enough to say, “We’ve got an hour before the living room fills up with our people and we’re officially husband and wife again.”
“Then we better pull ourselves together,” I laugh, even though neither of us is letting go.
***
I walk through the living room with a bouquet of scarlet amaryllis in my hands. My fingers tremble slightly, not with nerves, but with awe. The simple white dress, long-sleeved with a delicate train, fits like it was made just for today. It’s not extravagant, not showy. But it’s perfect.
My first wedding dress had been beautiful—elegant, dramatic, magazine-worthy. We were married in a sprawling church with vaulted ceilings and more than two hundred guests, most of whom we barely knew. It looked like a dream. But this? This is what it feels like to wake up in the middle of one.
The living room is full, but not crowded. Every person here matters—Tate, Sarge, Connie, Deanna, Pearla, Leo, Tom, Trey, and Flor. They’re our people. Some new faces, but the ones who’ve stood with us through the messy middle. The ones who saw what broke and cheered for us anyway.
Sarge stands beneath a plastic arbor wrapped in cedar branches, red poinsettias, and warm fairy lights. The whole thing is a little crooked. And yet, it’s perfect.
Tate shifts beside Corbin at the front of the room, both of them in matching black suits. Tate’s cheeks are pink from excitement, and he keeps looking between Corbin and me like he can’t believe this is real. Like maybe he’s afraid if he blinks, it’ll all disappear. But it won’t. Not this time.
My heart swells as I walk to them, to the life we’ve chosen again. Only this time, with eyes wide open.
Corbin takes my hand as I pass off the bouquet to Connie. His thumb strokes over mine like he’s trying to memorize the moment.
Then we face each other.
Tears blur the edges of my vision as Sarge begins speaking. I don’t catch every word—my heart is beating too loudly in my ears—but I nod when I’m supposed to, laugh when I can’t help it, and whisper “I do” like a promise I’ve already been living.
I slide Corbin’s band onto his finger, and when it’s his turn, he surprises me by pulling out a new diamond band to go with the old one. The one I kept hidden all these years.
I gasp softly.
He remembered.
Not the size or shape of the diamond, but the meaning. He remembered what mattered.
Because the band… it was never just jewelry to me. The engagement ring was a question, a promise. The band was a vow. A declaration. A life tethered to another. Even when everything fell apart, the band still felt like it belonged to me.
Now it feels like it always belonged to us .
Corbin slips it onto my finger and whispers something I don’t quite catch, but I feel it all the same.
We seal everything with a kiss. Not rushed, not showy. Just deep and anchoring and home.
We walk back down our makeshift aisle together and stop at the Christmas tree, hand in hand, hearts steadied by something stronger than ceremony.
Deanna snaps photo after photo on her phone, laughing between shots as she tries to get everyone smiling at once.
Tate runs to us and squeezes between our sides, and in that moment, it doesn’t matter where we’ve been or what we lost. This is what we kept. This is what we’ve rebuilt.
We sign the marriage license on the living room table, between a plate of cookies and a vase of cedar sprigs, and then we grab our plates and dig into a delicious brunch—scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy. It’s not flashy. It’s not extravagant.
It’s just love. Honest, weathered, deeply-earned love.
And it’s everything.
We gather around the Christmas tree, the soft twinkle of lights casting a warm glow across the room.
Wrapping paper litters the floor like confetti as we pass out gifts and take turns opening far more than we probably deserve.
There’s laughter. So much laughter. Leo and Tate squeal with excitement as they build something elaborate out of LEGOs while Pearla snaps pictures and Tom tries to keep up with the instructions.
Corbin moves around the room like he’s done this a hundred times.
Refilling coffee mugs, checking on everyone, making sure there’s always warmth in someone’s hands and laughter in the air.
Eventually, he sinks to the floor and lets Tate and Leo pull him into their world of building blocks and silly games.
It’s the kind of day you don’t want to end. One of those perfect ones you want to bottle up and tuck away forever.
When everyone starts saying their goodbyes, there are long hugs, quiet congratulations, and soft reassurances that we’ll all be together again soon.
Sarge hugs me last.
His arms wrap around me in a way only a big brother can. Safe. Steady. Solid. “Mom would’ve been so proud,” he whispers in my ear.
Tears sting my eyes as I nod into his shoulder, too full to speak.
Once the last car pulls away, and Deanna retreats upstairs to rest after the excitement of the day, it’s just the three of us. The heart of our home.
We call Tate over to the couch, and he climbs between us, still clutching the stuffed animal Pearla got him. Corbin’s hand slides into mine, grounding me.
“We have something important to tell you,” I begin softly.
Tate’s eyes grow wide, curious and bright. “What is it?”
I glance at Corbin. His eyes are already glistening.
“We’re having a baby,” I tell him, my voice just above a whisper. “You’re going to be a big brother.”
Tate stares at me, stunned for a moment. Then, he jumps up, arms thrown in the air. “Really?!”
“Really,” Corbin confirms, his voice thick with emotion as a tear slips down my cheek.
Tate scrambles back onto the couch and presses a hand to my stomach. “Is it in there?”
I nod, breath catching. “It is.”
“And in nine months, it’ll come out?”
“That’s right.”
Tate launches forward, throwing his arms around my neck in a tight, fierce hug. Corbin wraps us both up in his embrace, pulling us together like he never wants to let go.
I close my eyes and breathe in everything—my son’s laughter, my husband’s steady heartbeat, the warmth of this moment.
This. This is the dream I never dared to speak aloud. And somehow, it came true anyway.
I couldn’t ask for anything more.