Epilogue
FIVE YEARS LATER
I awoke to a small kiss being placed on my cheek. Rolling over, I was met with Knox’s crystal blue eyes, except they were smaller and bright with excitement.
“Mommy. Up, it Christmas.”
Our beautiful little two-and-a-half-year-old Holland Noelle stood by my side of our bed, dressed in snowman footie pajamas, dancing in place with eagerness for Christmas morning and what awaited us in the family room downstairs.
I couldn’t blame her for her excitement; this was the first Christmas that she really understood what was going on.
She had asked every single night for three weeks if Christmas was in the morning.
It took Knox and me an extra hour last night after we got home from Archer’s house to get her settled down and tucked into bed because she couldn’t contain her excitement for what the morning brought.
“Good morning, Holly,” I smiled as I brushed a wild strand of her dark hair out of her face.
She pushed my hand away and climbed up into our bed, lifting the comforter to look for Eugene, who was curled into a ball at my feet.
“Genie?” Her voice was muffled by the covers.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Her nickname for Eugene melted my heart every time she said it.
My happiness with my child quickly dissipated when she kicked me in my ribs and then rolled back and forth on the bed in a fit of laughter, her legs going wild and kicking anything they came in contact with.
“Daddy! Stop! No tickle!”
Knox’s side of the bed bumped up and down with his laughter and Holly kicking and laughing.
Eugene crawled up the length of my body and jumped off the bed, not wanting to be a part of the tussle.
He loved snuggling Holly and was her fiercest guardian, but when it came time to wrestle and play, he was no longer about that in his old age.
A large, calloused hand wound around my middle and pulled me in for a family cuddle, one of my favorite things in this world.
“Merry Christmas, Henderson ladies,” Knox’s scruffy morning voice said as he rubbed a slow circle on top of my stomach.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” I responded.
“Presents?!” Holly asked.
“Let’s go see if your cousins and Grandpa are awake,” Knox told her.
After going to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and taming the wild mess of hair on top of my head, I descended the large staircase of our renovated manor.
Knox and I had flown to Mykonos, Greece, where his parents had vacationed often, and had a sweet, intimate wedding ceremony with our family. Neither of us had wanted a big expensive wedding. All we wanted was to be married and start our lives together.
King Leroy and Queen Isobel had generously gifted us this old manor as a wedding present.
It had badly needed an overhaul, and although it took Knox three years to finish all of the renovations, he had worked day and night the final few months, making sure that it would be ready to bring home Holland and that we would have the perfect oasis for our family.
I had offered many times to help him, having done odd jobs around my apartment in New York.
But he refused to let me do any handiwork, reminding me of the first night we met.
I stuck to painting and hanging the art.
I wouldn’t have been upset if the manor hadn’t been ready, though. Some days I missed the tiny cottage at the palace and all the memories it held. But this home was perfect. It was everything we both wanted. The perfect home for us.
I padded down the long hallway toward the back of the house that held the family room and kitchen. Christmas music and pots and pans clanging together let me know that the house was awake and Christmas morning was in full swing. My cheeks ached from the smile that graced my face.
“Holland, get away from those presents until your mom gets down here,” Knox’s baritone voice chided.
That daughter of ours was on a mission this morning.
“Daddy! Just one, I not tell.”
“Oh, is that right?” I said, walking around the corner, smiling at my ornery little girl.
“She here!” Holland clapped. “John, Michael, time for presents!”
My nearly five-year-old twin nephews sat on the large sectional next to my dad, entranced in watching The Grinch on the flat-screen TV that hung above the fireplace.
“Merry Christmas, Birdie,” Colleen greeted me from the kitchen that overlooked the family room.
“I hope you don’t mind that I started breakfast. Knox told me last night I was more than welcome to make breakfast this morning.
” Colleen truly was the perfect housewife.
She had already made a pound of bacon, sausage patties, and biscuits, and she was scrambling eggs at the cooktop.
Pitchers of orange, apple, and cranberry juice sat side by side along the kitchen island.
“Merry Christmas.” I smiled. “Where are Connor and Ellie?” I looked around.
“They’re still getting up. The jet lag hit them last night and they stayed up way too late watching movies together.” She laughed.
“Here you go, love.” Knox handed me a hot cup of peppermint tea and placed a kiss on my cheek. “I figured you wouldn’t mind letting Colleen make breakfast this morning.”
“Thank you.” I inhaled the sweet scent of peppermint and herbs. It couldn’t hold a candle to the way Knox smelled, but it was close. “Better her than me.” I grinned.
“We’ve got breakfast going, and once Connor and Ellie come down, we’ll get started opening the presents,” he told Holly, who ran over to us and lifted her hands up so one of us would hold her.
I put her on my hip and walked to the sectional and sat down next to my dad. Connor and I had always spent the holidays together, especially after our mom passed. So having his family here wasn’t unusual, but having my dad here, celebrating Christmas, felt unreal.
After I moved to Wexstone and started working for the palace, Dr. Sanchez, Knox’s therapist, suggested that I see Dr. Ghana, her colleague.
As hard as it was to dredge through all of the emotions and feelings I had suppressed over the years, I loved going each week to talk to her.
The way she helped me view certain life events and reframe my way of thinking was freeing and so enlightening.
I was hesitant when she first brought up reconciling with my dad, but now I was thankful to her for giving me the tools to work through everything with him. We both wanted a relationship but just didn’t know where to start or how to repair what had been damaged.
A year after I had moved here, he came with Conner and Colleen to visit.
Dr. Ghana made time to see us together and even helped my dad find his own therapist in the States.
It hadn’t been rainbows and sunshine at first, and that first visit with him in Wexstone had been so awkward, but we both pushed through the tension and fought for the relationship we have now.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I said as I sat next to him.
“Merry Christmas, honey.” His eyes crinkled from the smile that took over his whole face. “This version is so different than the version I grew up with as a kid. The animation is great, and I love the music.”
“I wike when Gwinch works out and put his booty in Max face!” Holly giggled from beside us.
I let out a belly deep laugh as Holly crawled into my dad’s lap and laid her head back against his chest. I didn’t miss the fact that my dad slowly closed his eyes as they filled with tears, clearly taking in the moment with his grandkids and daughter on Christmas morning and placing it in his core memory bank.
Everyone finally gathered into the family room, and the kids sat in a big circle on the floor as we divided up all of their presents.
Holly could barely contain her excitement, her eyes roaming over all the presents, taking stock of which she would open first. She looked around the room, seeing that all the presents had been passed out to each recipient.
She looked at me and asked, “Can I open?”
“Yes, baby. Open them!”
My girl had been waiting so patiently for this.
At Knox’s family Christmas, each person had to take a turn as everyone watched and gauged your excitement.
In our house on Christmas morning, it was pure chaos.
Wrapping paper and boxes and gift bags were tossed every which way.
Squeals, laughter, and gasps echoed through the room.
Holly opened her last box and pulled out a pink shirt I had bought her at the last minute.
“Gwandpa. What say?” she asked my dad, who stood next to her with a trash bag in hand.
A huge smile overtook his face as he read the shirt out loud.
“It says ‘Big Sister,’” he laughed, his eyes widening. “She’s going to be a big sister?” He looked between Knox and me.
“She is.” I smiled, rubbing little circles over my stomach, which already felt so much bigger in this second pregnancy than it had with Holly.
“Oh my gosh!” Colleen exclaimed. “This is so exciting.”
“When are you due?” my dad asked.
“Late July.”
“Congratulations, man.” Connor gave Knox that pat on the shoulder that all men seem to do.
“Thank you.” Knox smiled from ear to ear and leaned into Connor and whispered, “I blame the pumpkin ale and cat costume she wore at Halloween.”
“Dude!” Connor exclaimed. “That’s my sister, gross!”
Knox let out a boisterous laugh. He was always giving Connor shit, just like any older brother would.
I gave him a playful slap across the knee and shook my head.
He wasn’t wrong; we had absolutely conceived our baby on Halloween night at the palace’s party, but he definitely didn’t need to let my brother know that.
After all the presents were unwrapped and the room was cleared of the explosion of wrapping paper, the kids played together on the floor with their new toys and electronics while the adults sat on the sectional in a haze from the enormous breakfast.
“I’m going to head upstairs and shower and get ready for dinner at the palace,” Knox said.
“Us too,” Colleen announced, giving Connor that look.
As they cleared out of the room, my dad came and sat next to me, placing his arm along my shoulders and pulling me into his side in a sweet, fatherly embrace.
“I’m so happy for you, Bernadette,” he said softly, pride in his voice. “Not just about the new baby, but for this entire life you have built for yourself.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I replied, tears filling my eyes. I blamed my hormones since they were all over the place lately. It definitely wasn’t the fact that my dad was being so sweet.
“Your mom would be so proud of you.” His own eyes started to fill up with unshed tears.
“Aw, Dad. I know she would be. She would love being here in this winter wonderland surrounded by her grandkids.”
I never thought that I would be able to sit and talk about my mom, especially on Christmas of all days, with my dad.
But here we were, making strides of progress and talking about the “could haves.” Regardless of what the pregnancy hormones were doing to me, I knew that this moment was special and a huge win in the healing column for both of us.
“I have two boxes of white-chocolate-covered Oreos in the pantry. Want to go open one up? For Mom?” I smiled.
“I would love that,” my dad smiled as he kissed the side of my head.