Epilogue 1
One Year Later - New Year’s Eve
I’m standing in our kitchen on Sweet Corn Court—Nina’s kitchen that became our kitchen when we stopped pretending this was anything but forever—watching my wife teach Mya how to temper chocolate while we wait for Kai to come back from his youth hockey holiday party.
I peek into the bowl and ask. “Whatcha making?”
“We’re making ‘celebration cookies,’” Nina says.
“Sounds like the opposite of ‘confusion cookies.’”
“We’re definitely not stress-baking.”
“Not when we beat the Mustangs by three points,” Nina says proudly.
“They’re having a rough season,” I mutter, not glad that Dad’s team is down, but not mad that we’re up.
“They should know better than to mess with our Knights,” Mya says before she and Nina break into one of our team chants.
I have to admit, I love and appreciate their allegiance.
Our Knights. Our team, our town, our life. Everything that seemed so foreign and overwhelming a year ago now feels like it was always meant to be this way.
A warm feeling washes over me, flooding me with gratitude because almost exactly a year ago, I was hiding in the shadows at a Vegas party, convinced my career was over and my life was stuck in neutral. Tonight, we’re hosting our own New Year’s Eve party.
Kai bursts through the back door, still in his hockey gear, his face flushed with excitement and cold. “Coach says I’ll be ready to try out for the tournament team during the summer!”
“That’s incredible, buddy,” I say, pulling him into a hug that reminds me of when I was his age—before I fully understood how much pressure my father put on me. “Do you think that level of competition would be fun?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been training with LSJ,” he says with the kind of confidence that makes me chuckle.
It’s funny how life works out. When my shoulder finally forced me to reevaluate things, broke up my engagement, and sent me to a new team, I thought it was the end of the line. Turns out it was just the beginning.
Kai doesn’t care about my injury history or his famous grandfather—he just wants to learn how to skate faster and score goals.
I’d braced myself for months of legal warfare, hiring the best family attorney money can buy and preparing to fight tooth and nail for Kai and Mya.
Sabrina kept reminding me that sometimes the system works exactly as it should, especially when biological parents make their priorities crystal clear.
She was right. When Desi formally relinquished her parental rights via FaceTime from Fiji—more concerned about her tan than her children—and Brock’s attorney contacted us to expedite his surrender of custody because maintaining a daughter interfered with his “lifestyle flexibility,” the judge fast-tracked our petition.
Six months later, we had full legal custody.
The media circus died its predictable death when reporters realized there was no scandal here—just two people who accidentally found love and intentionally built a family.
Brad’s threats of litigation regarding unauthorized photos of minors sent the paparazzi scurrying.
Turns out, the scoop on a hypnotist-wedding leading to genuine happiness doesn’t generate clicks once the novelty wears off.
What does generate lasting interest is watching Kai score his first hat trick and seeing Mya’s artwork displayed in the school hallway, signed with “Sheridan” in swoopy cursive.
That’s the real story—family life together.
Several hours later, we’re at the Busy Bee and have the patio strung with twinkling lights and heat lamps set up.
Soon, our bakery is full of the chosen family we’ve built. The WAGs arrive with an assortment of savory and sweet treats. The kids immediately disperse with Mya and Kai. My teammates show up with stories from the game earlier and arms full of yet more food.
Even Coach Badaszek is here, looking relaxed as he holds his grandson in his arms. “Fantastic assist, Sheridan,” he says.
My brow furrows because, although I played a heck of a game, I don’t recall any assists that warrant that comment. “Sir?”
He winks and then looks around the bakery fondly. “Christmas wouldn’t have been the same without one of Nina’s Kringles. Well, they were Elizabeth’s recipe. Little-known fact, Kathleen was her first official customer.” I belatedly realize he’s referring to his wife and Nina’s grandmother—Bibi.
“Is that so?”
“Indeed. This went even better than I expected.”
“Were you expecting something, sir?”
The man has a twinkle in his eye and the amusement in his smile is almost mischievous. “I didn’t choose you for the family by accident.”
“You mean for the team?”
He looks down at his grandson, gurgling in his arms. “Same thing, right?”
Did Badaszek have something to do with everything that’s happened since last New Year’s Eve? It seems unlikely, but then again, here we are. “I suppose so.”
“It’s a good life, son.”
I love my father, Lane Sheridan Senior, but right now I feel more seen and understood by my coach than I ever have by Dad because at the center of it all, there has to be heart … home … family. Badaszek has that figured out. My father, not so much. At least, not yet. But I have hope for him.
“A great life.” Then I add, “Thank you, sir.”
Although I may never know Tom Badaszek’s role in any of this, I can’t help but feel grateful. That feeling trails me for the rest of the evening as I count my blessings.
The Busy Bee is thriving—Nina hired a part-time assistant, counter help, and officially expanded to include catering, rather than doing things piecemeal whenever people asked her for favors. She’s skating again regularly, no longer afraid of the ice or the painful memories it carries.
Mya has settled into school, made friends, and only occasionally gets into trouble for shouting at her brother in Thai when he plays pranks on her—we’re working on getting her nanny settled into Cobbiton to help with school drop off when I’m at away games and Nina has to be up early to open the bakery.
And even though it shouldn’t be a surprise, Kai has become the star of his youth hockey team and discovered he loves helping Nina keep the storeroom and containers in the bakery organized.
The kid is a whiz at folding pastry boxes, too.
And me? I’ve found my purpose in ways I never expected.
A second chance in hockey with a team that feels like family, yes, but also being the husband who makes perfect hot chocolate on stressful days, the dad who shows up to school events, and the man who gets to wake up next to Nina Sheridan every morning.
“Attention, everyone!” Bree calls out, raising her glass as midnight approaches. “Time for New Year’s resolutions!”
“Or words of the year,” Nina adds, catching my eye across the room. “Those work too.”
Jess hollers, “My word is ‘vegetables!’ As in Liam and KJ have to eat their vegetables.”
He nuzzles his wife. “It’s not my fault you bake incredible Bundt cakes.”
Pierre follows immediately with, “Mine is to eat more pizza!”
Cara cuts him a look and I know that Nat, the team nutritionist, will sneak him cauliflower pizza crusts if that’s the case.
Grady chimes in, “I’m going with ‘naps.’” Understandable, given his and Heidi’s growing family.
Mikey mutters, “At least it’s more realistic than ‘I’m going to organize my garage.’”
“I’ll do mine if you do yours,” Hudson says, likely because it’s become the Happy Hockey Days storage facility.
“Do you have a resolution or a word this year?” Nina asks me during a private moment while everyone else is debating between resolutions and predictions.
Considering how I’ve been feeling tonight, without hesitation, I say, “gratitude.”
“That’s fitting.”
“How about you?” I ask.
“Last year was ‘rise.’” Rising to my potential, rising to meet challenges. This year, my word is ‘expand.’”
“Good one,” I say, pulling her closer.
“As in expansion,” she adds.
“Like expanding the bakery.”
She nods, then rests her palm on her stomach.
I look down and then up at her. The corner of her mouth curls into a smile.
“Expand as in—” Cupping my hand, I hold it out at about pregnant belly distance.
Nina’s eyes crescent, filling with tears—happy ones, the kind that seem to come easier now that we’ve stopped being afraid of all the good that’s in store for us.
“We’re having a baby?” I ask at the same time someone shouts, “Ten seconds!”
Suddenly, everyone is counting down to midnight and the new year.
“Yes!” she hollers over the clamor.
“Nine!”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Eight!”
She nods.
“When did you find out?”
“Seven!”
She smiles. “This morning.”
“Six!”
“And you waited to tell me until now?” I ask.
“Five!”
“We’ve been busy all day and hardly had a moment alone. I wanted you to know before—” She tips her head toward the stairs where the kids gather, peering through the spindles.
“Four!”
I draw her close. “This is exciting! I can’t believe it!”
“Three!”
“But there’s more. We’re going to have—”
“Two!”
“Twins?” I ask, wondering if that was the conclusion to her sentence.
“Yes!” she answers.
“One!”
“Happy New Year, Mrs. Sheridan,” I whisper against her lips.
“Happy New Year to the best dad in the world!”
When we kiss this time, there is wild cheering from our friends and family. Mya and Kai whoop and rush up to us with hugs.
Everyone toasts to us, revisiting the fact that last year we were very much caught off guard after being hypnotized and married. I feel like a human boomerang in the best possible way.
Later, after the guests have gone home and the kids are finally asleep (it took a while since they were hyped up on sugar and excitement), Nina and I sit on our front porch swing, wrapped in a blanket, watching the last of the New Year’s fireworks fade over Cobbiton as the late-night revelry continues.
“It’s been an eventful year,” she says.
Now knowing we have twins on the way, I add, “And I doubt that’s going to stop anytime soon.”
I think about the stranger with gray eyes who spontaneously danced with me at a Las Vegas party. About the hypnotist who took a risk and married us. About the journey from that stage to this moment, surrounded by our own version of family.
Surfacing from my thoughts, I say, “Eventful and better than I could’ve imagined.”
“Even after the holiday break ends and we have to get back to the routine of packing school lunches?”
“And managing the bakery.”
“And two kids who will undoubtedly find new and creative ways to keep us on our toes.”
“And hockey games to win.”
“Soon there will be a nursery to prepare and baby names to pick and all the wonderful mayhem that comes with expanding our family.”
“But tonight, Mrs. Sheridan, is all ours.”
I catch the light reflecting off Nina’s engagement ring—grateful for her yes as she snuggles up in my arms. Snow begins to dust our small town and I’m certain this is the very best kind of happily ever after.
The kind that started with a dance and is growing into forever.
The kind we had to be brave enough to rise up and claim.
The kind that proves sometimes the most impossible things are worth saying yes to.