Bonus Epilogue
Ty
Laughter drifts on the air from the bar, blending with the low beat of a love song that seems to slow time itself.
This late into the night, the tables are littered with empty champagne flutes and half-eaten slices of cake, and abandoned high heels are tucked under chairs.
Everyone is either in some stage of tipsy happiness or has retreated to the outskirts, watching dancing couples sway under strings of café lights.
I drape my arms over Eric’s shoulders as he rests his hands on the small of my back, fingers splayed just enough to feel possessive.
The heat of his palms seeps through the thin, silk fabric of my black dress, making my skin hum with a desperate need, and when his thumb begins brushing lazy circles against my side, it sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’m sorry I kept this from you,” he says. “Josh swore me to secrecy, and I knew what it could mean for them if word got out.”
“It’s fine, the circumstances called for it. Besides,” I say with a shrug. “You’re not the only one keeping secrets.” His eyebrows raise in question, and I press my lips together to fight off a smile.
“What do you know?” he asks, arching a brow.
“Things.”
“Tyler,” he pleads.
“Eric,” I say, mimicking his tone.
He eyes me for several seconds, and I look away, feigning innocence. Exhaling, I say, “This really was a beautiful—”
“Stop that,” he says, cutting me off and pulling me tighter against his body.
He squeezes my sides where he knows I’m the most ticklish and smiles down at me as I squirm in his arms. “You know I can’t stand not being in the know.
I’ve been keeping this,” he gestures around us, “a secret for weeks. Haven’t I proven to be trustworthy? ”
I pretend to weigh the options, just to tease him a bit more before I lean in and press my lips to the shell of his ear.
For a split second, my throat tightens and my breath catches like the words might never make it out.
The weight of what I’m about to say is terrifying and thrilling, a perfect storm of fear and joy.
My heart pounds faster and I have to remind myself that this is Eric—that no matter how nervous I am about this, he’s my safe place.
I can feel my smile stretching, my whole body buzzing with the effort it takes to hold the secret for one more heartbeat. And then I let it go.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper before pulling back enough to see the big, bright smile that covers his face, those dimples I love so much framing his mouth and reminding me exactly how we found ourselves in this situation. I start to wonder if there’s a place we can sneak off to right now to—
“Are you serious?” he asks on an exhale, snapping me out of whatever horny little detour my brain was about to take me on. When I nod, he takes my hand and drags me through the crowd and off the dance floor to a secluded spot at the back of the yard.
“You’re pregnant?” he asks, turning so abruptly to face me that I run straight into his chest.
“Yes,” I say, laughing as I back up a few steps.
“Swear to god?”
“Yes,” I say again, smiling as I watch tears line his lower lashes and his mouth curl up into a devastating smile.
We’ve been trying to start a family for a few months, and while it may not be the traditional way to do things—having a baby before, well, anything else—nothing about our relationship has ever followed a script, and I’ve stopped believing that love or commitment has to look one certain way to be real.
Maybe we’re doing it backwards, or sideways, or in our own messy, beautiful order, but it doesn’t matter because it’s ours.
Eric’s past left scars. The kind that make forever feel fragile and marriage feel like a risk instead of a promise.
He may never want to get married, and that’s okay.
I don’t need a ring to feel chosen or a ceremony to know that he loves me with everything he has.
I see it in his eyes every time he looks at me, feel it in the way he holds me, and I know deep in my bones that he has so much more love to give, and that he will be the most incredible father.
He lets out a whoop of excitement, wraps his arms around me, lifts me into the air, and spins us several times before placing my feet back onto the damp grass.
“How long have you known?”
“I took a test this morning while you had breakfast with the guys…and then two more because I was in shock and I wanted to be sure.”
“Oh my god,” he says, grinning like a kid at Christmas and falling to his knees in the grass. He rests his forehead against my belly as his hands slide up my sides to rest on my hips. “Hello, little one,” he whispers against my dress.
Tears fall from my eyes, and I run my fingers through his hair as he kisses my belly over and over until I’m laughing. He rests his chin against my stomach and looks up at me.
“I love you so fucking much, Tyler,” he says, his voice breaking. “You—this life with you—it’s better than anything I could have ever imagined I deserved.”
“I love you, too,” I say, running my hand from his hair to cup his cheek. “Now get off your knees. You’re going to ruin your tux.”
“Yes dear,” he mumbles, and I playfully smack his chest as he stands. He takes my face in his hands, threading his fingers into my hair, and kisses me slowly before taking my hand and pulling me back to the dance floor.
A year ago, we were both still learning how to stop running from the things that mattered.
Learning how to feel worthy of a love this big.
And now, here we are—hand in hand, hearts wide open, staring down a future that’s about to be bigger and messier and more beautiful than either of us can imagine.
I glance at him as we weave through the crowd, and the smile still plastered across his face makes my chest ache in the best way.
Everything’s about to change, and that should probably scare me more than it does, but instead, it feels a little like standing on the edge of a cliff—heart racing, wind in your hair, knowing the ground could give way at any second.
And even though we’re about to fall headfirst into the unknown, I know I wouldn’t want to be falling with anyone else.