EPILOGUE
TWO YEARS LATER
Jesse
“Jesse…Jess!”
I glance down at Oliver, who’s strapped to my chest, his tiny cheek pressed right over my heart. “You hear your mom, little man?” I murmur. “She needs us. Better go find out what she wants.”
In the kitchen, we find my beautiful wife taking a spinach dip out of the oven. A dish towel is draped over her shoulder, her hair is loose, her cheeks flushed from cooking. She stops when she sees us and smiles. After all this time, it still knocks the air out of me.
“Can you grab the extra drinks from the garage? And the ice bucket. Don’t forget the ice.” She rips a sticky note off the cupboard, crushes the paper into a tight ball, and flicks it towards the garbage can. I can’t help the grin that pulls at my mouth. My Mads and those damn notes.
“I’m on it,” I assure her, tugging gently on Oliver’s toes. He blinks back at me, entirely unbothered by the noises in the kitchen. “But you know you can ask the caterers to do it. I hired them so you wouldn’t have to lift a finger on your birthday. You shouldn’t be sweating over a spinach dip.”
“I have to make the dip,” she says, like it’s obvious. “Your brothers expect it. It’s their favorite. How am I supposed to have them over and not make it?”
“Talented, beautiful, and thoughtful,” I say.
She shrugs. “Now go get the ice bucket. They’ll be here any second.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As if on cue, we hear footsteps on the deck, followed by the unmistakable sound of Poppy’s squeal. My brothers come into view, along with Ryan and Cara, and of course Marigold.
“Door’s open,” Madeline calls from the stove. “And wipe your feet if you value your lives. You know how Jesse is about his floors.”
I fill the metal bucket with ice and cans in the garage then carry it out back.
When I set it on the long, cedar table, I pause.
The deck I finally finished stretches out in front of me exactly the way I pictured it back when it was just an idea—wide planks, stone fire pit, plush loungers, string lights catching in the evening breeze.
Madeline is wrapped up in Landyn, laughing into her shoulder while Cara and Ryan take Marigold on a walk around the yard.
Wes, Noah, and Ford are watching Poppy in the bounce house I rented for the day.
For a second, I just stand here, hands resting on the rim of the bucket, taking it all in.
A lot has changed in the last two years.
I asked Madeline to marry me right out here because I couldn’t stand not officially calling her mine any longer.
It was a quiet night, the fire pit low, Madeline curled into my side.
She turned the page of her book and found the sticky note I left her there: “Will You Marry Me, Mads?”
She gasped, then cried, then said yes when I got onto one knee on the deck and held out a ring. I swear the whole world went quiet. It was so perfect it hurt.
The wedding, just four months later, was exactly what Madeline wanted.
No ballroom. No miles-long guest list. No stuffy speeches.
Just the back yard with strings of lights overhead and hundreds of flowers.
My brothers stood by my side. Cara and Lottie were next to her while Poppy kept Marigold entertained, both in frilly white dresses with baskets of flowers.
Madeline wore a simple dress. I wore a suit she picked out.
We promised forever without fanfare, kissed under the stars, and drank champagne out of rented glasses.
None of it was flashy or over the top. Just the two of us and our closest family and friends as we chose each other for every step of the way.
Neither her parents nor my dad were at the wedding, and somehow that didn’t feel like a loss.
My dad was still in treatment, and too fragile physically and emotionally.
Madeline’s parents were out of town, tied up in one of her dad’s campaign events.
They are technically present in our lives—phone calls and carefully worded messages here and there, invitations declined and occasionally accepted.
They still don’t love that she chose me, and I don’t think they ever will, but Madeline’s okay with that.
She’s learned how to keep them in her life without letting them shape it, how to hold space without handing over ground.
Besides, what matters more is what happened on that warm Saturday afternoon in August and every day since then—Madeline and I building a life that not long ago I didn’t even know to dream of.
Finding out she was pregnant came not too long after that summer night.
She came out of the bathroom holding the test, eyes wide, breath caught in her lungs.
I stared at the stick, then at her, then back at it again, and then I yelled loud enough for both of us, pulling her into my arms and laughing like an idiot.
We’d only been married for a little less than a year but having a baby was something we both wanted.
We sat on the kitchen floor for a long time after that, her between my legs, talking about what life was going to look like with a newborn.
Would he or she have my nose or my wife’s big brown eyes?
We got lost in the tiny details, obsessing over the small things, because it was easier than talking about the big ones—like how neither of us had any idea what we were doing.
Both terrified and thrilled in equal measure.
“Hey,” she murmurs now, coming up behind me and bringing me back to the present. She slides her hands around my waist and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.
When I turn my face to look at her, she presses a kiss to my mouth. “Hey yourself, birthday girl.”
She leans in again, this time to Oliver, kissing his chubby cheek. He lets out a happy sound and kicks his feet.
“Alright,” she says, holding out her arms. “Hand me my little puppy.”
I kiss the top of our son’s head first, breathing him in. Then I wiggle him out of the carrier and pass him over to Madeline, my hands lingering at her waist. From the other side of the deck, Noah snorts.
“You guys want us to leave, or should we give you a minute? Maybe a minute and half, Jesse?”
Ford raises his beer. “Yeah, I vote we let them finish. See how far they’ll actually go.”
Madeline rolls her eyes, bouncing Oliver in her arms. “You’re both just jealous.”
“Maybe of our nephew,” Wes says dryly. “Not the rest of it.”
“Speak for yourself,” Noah fires back.
The gate creaks open and Lottie walks into the yard wearing a floral sundress and easy smile, eyes immediately finding Wes like she knows exactly where to look.
“Looks like I found the party,” she grins.
Wes straightens, expression unreadable, but I catch the shift. I notice him taking her in. “It’s good to see you, Charlotte,” he says.
She lifts one shoulder. “It’s good to see you too, Wes. I came for the birthday girl, but…” her gaze sweeps him over… “I’m not hating this view.”
I exchange a look with Noah. Madeline squeezes my arm—subtle but excited—and I can tell she’s already got one of her romance books running through her head.
I grin to myself as I pull Madeline to my side, Oliver warm between us, the deck full of all our favorite people. This is what I pictured when I bought this house. A yard full of string lights and chalk drawings and a family at my side.
“Dinner’s ready,” the caterer calls, and we all take our places at the long table that I built to hold our growing extended family. I drag out Madeline’s chair, because I’d do anything for this woman. Besides, I like watching her roll her eyes at me like she’s secretly not obsessed with it.
“You’ve done more than enough for me already. I can pull out my own chair.”
She’s referring to my personal mission to give her the best birthday ever. I started with breakfast in bed, then a massage at the spa. I would have sent her for a manicure and pedicure too, but I knew she would have lasted an hour before texting me that she missed Oliver and needed to come home.
While she was gone, I filled the entire house with flowers.
Not a bouquet or vase but hundreds of violet-colored blooms scattered everywhere.
On the island, along the staircase, over the deck and in the windowsills.
When she walked back into the house, she froze in the doorway, like her brain couldn’t catch up to what she was seeing.
And because I love her so damn much, I went one step further.
I lifted the hem of my shirt to show her my new tattoo.
Madeline blinked like she didn’t trust what she was seeing, and I swear all the air left her lungs.
She raised her hand to my chest, her fingertips brushing over the fresh ink.
Her name right over my heart. When her fingertips brushed gently over the tattoo, tears instantly sprung to her eyes.
I swear to God, I’ve never seen her so undone.
I’m still thinking about it when I stand from my seat, Oliver on my hip, and lift my glass. The chatter quiets instantly. Madeline looks up at me, cheeks flushed before her eyes flick to our son, and I see her swallow hard.“I know my wife hates being the center of attention.”
“Then she picked the wrong guy,” Noah blurts out.
“But she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met,” I say. “The strongest. The most incredible mother to Oliver. And she’s the best thing to ever happen to me. So…happy birthday, Madi-girl. I love you. I’m grateful you exist. And I’m grateful you chose me. To Madeline.”
Wes raises his drink. “The woman who somehow manages to put up with Jesse Winters.”
Madeline laughs, shaking her head as she wipes away a tear. Everyone cheers, glasses clink, and Oliver squeals like he wants to join in too.
I sit back down and lean in close, my mouth brushing her ear. “You look beautiful tonight, baby,” I whisper, voice low enough so that only she can hear. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself later. I’m going to have you for dessert.”
She turns her head, lips grazing my jaw. “Jesse, it’s my birthday dinner and our guests are right here. Try to behave.”
I grin into her hair. “Not possible when you look like that.”
She presses her hand to my thigh under the table, fingers curling in a warning. Then she leans in so close I swear she’s about to kiss me.
With her lips millimetres from mine, she murmurs against my mouth, “Then eat your dinner, Jess…because tonight you’re going to need your strength.”
The End.