Epilogue
TWO MONTHS LATER
Daphne
Snow sprinkles around the new town history center as I step out. I brush some flakes from my eyelids as I look for Andri’s truck.
Inside, Barnaby and his wife Maisie are arguing over a social media strategy for the new venture. Her idea involves a whole marketing plan that would focus on the charm of the small town, while his idea is not to have one at all. When they say opposites attract, it’s really true for those two.
Finally, I see the white vehicle coming my way, headlights bright in the early dusk.
He steps out with that boyish half smile that turns my insides to mush and warms the mate mark under my scarf.
He opens my door, and before I can sit down, he kisses me, placing his own hand over the bite. He must feel it too.
A soft comfort blossoms through us both.
“How’s the history center coming?” he asks as he closes my door.
When he gets in on his own side, I reply, “Great. I mean, I did lose an argument over whether or not it was helpful to have a ‘restricted’ section to our photographs. Mostly, I think it’s a place where Barnaby can put things he’s embarrassed about.
In particular, there’s the time he thought he’d stumbled upon dinosaur bones, only to find out when he called a bunch of paleontologists in for a dig that it was just a deer.
Who’d have thought a vampire would be so damn sensitive? ” I laugh.
“Well, he’s had a lot of time to make mistakes, I suppose. Cut him some slack. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re able to find the time to do all of this with your graduation coming up so soon.” He chuckles, low and warm.
And he’s right. I have been running myself ragged—juggling the final touches at the history center, cramming in my last credit hour before I can finally hold that degree in my hands.
It’s a mid-year commencement, sure, but if this past year has taught me anything, it’s that everything unfolds on its own timeline.
And I’m not rushing a single second of this life I’ve built with Andri. Not anymore.
That’s when I see it: a box wrapped in crisp paper, crowned with a bold red bow, sitting innocently between us like it’s been waiting for its cue.
“What’s this?” I ask, blinking at it. This isn’t a gifting kind of day—unless I’ve forgotten something catastrophic. A flicker of worry must cross my face, because his whole posture softens.
“Consider it an early graduation present,” he says, voice dropping into something smooth and deliberate. “Go on. Open it.”
I pull the lid off the box and look inside.
White leather with a flash of glinting metal is nested in red tissue paper. The most perfect pair of ice skates sits inside.
“Oh,” I say as I look into the box.
“I know they’re new, but I promise you’ll have plenty of time to give them a history of their own.
I may have convinced an instructor to come to Hallow’s Cove for some one-on-one lessons if you’re interested.
” The way he’s rushing the words out, I realize that I’m going to need to explain my disappointment a bit sooner than I thought.
“I love them, so much…but we might have to wait a bit to break them in…”
I open my mouth, wanting to tell him my big news, but I suddenly get nervous. I know through our bond he can feel it.
“What?” he asks.
“Well,” I start, bolstering all my courage. “Barnaby said something today that I think might be kind of exciting.” I put my hand on his thigh.
“What’s that?” He keeps driving, trying to look unaffected by my nerves.
“He said he could hear…two heartbeats instead of my one.” I place my other hand on my stomach. “So, we might need to put a hold on ice skating for, oh, the next nine months or so?”
Andri doesn’t react at first, not with words. His breath stutters as he eases the car onto the snowy shoulder of the road. The tires crunch over the ice as the world seems to be holding its own inhale. The engine hums low and warm.
He turns to me, really turns—shoulders squared and eyes searching mine as if he’s afraid this is all a dream. Andri draws in a shallow, shaking breath.
“Two?” he asks, his voice almost breaking, eyes glossy.
“Two,” I whisper. “Mine, and our baby’s.” The last word lands between us like a spark in the darkness.
“A family?” he repeats, his longing woven neatly between the syllables. A lone tear streaks down his cheek.
“Our family,” I manage, my throat thick, the words trembling out of me like a sob.
His arms come around me with a strong gentleness, enveloping us together in a blanket of his protection.
The cold outside disappears even as the snowflakes gather at the bottom of the truck’s windshield.
The world is muted, quiet, moving on without us as it remains suspended in a little pocket of joy neither of us really thought we’d ever earn.
This is our chance to bring a child what neither of us had. Safety, belonging, and parents that will support them no matter what.
When he finally draws back, my face is just as wet as his.
“We…we can do this, right?” I ask, touching my stomach with a gentle little tap.
His hand covers my own, warm and steady as ever.
“Anything,” he says with a conviction that rattles straight through me. “We can do anything together.”