Epilogue
One Year Later
Xander
I leaned against the wall of the gallery, content to watch Blake move through the crowd, her pink hair a beacon I could spot from anywhere in the room.
She glowed tonight, radiating a confidence I'd always known was there, even when she couldn't see it herself.
The Willowbrook Art Gallery—a name we'd debated for weeks before deciding that sometimes the simplest choice was the right one—was packed wall to wall with people admiring Blake's work.
Every piece told a story, captured a moment, evoked an emotion that lingered long after you'd moved on to the next canvas.
The day I bought the old medical practice was a dark day for me. I wanted a place to isolate myself, a project to tear about and funnel all of my frustration and fear into. And now it was so much more. It was a brand new art gallery showing the work of my beautiful soon to be wife. I’d never been so proud of anyone else in my entire life.
A small hand tugged at my pant leg, and I looked down to see Amelia grinning up at me. She’d blossomed into the perfect little girl over the past year and no that wasn’t just my biased opinion as her father. Our entire family adored her.
"Up," she demanded, raising her arms.
I scooped her up and settled her on my hip, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "What do you think, little bug? Should we go find Mama?"
Amelia immediately pointed toward Blake. At nearly two, she was already showing signs of being as headstrong as her mother. And just like me, she loved Blake so much that she was never far from her side. The relationship the two of them had was beautiful. And at night, when Blake reads her a story, they say goodnight and thank you to the picture of Madison that sits at the side of her bed. She knows Madison is the mama who grew her in her belly so that Blake could be the mama who grew her in her heart.
We weaved through the crowd, stopping to accept congratulations and answer questions about the art. I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride every time someone complimented Blake's work or asked about a particular piece. She'd poured her heart and soul into this show, spending countless nights in the studio I'd built for her in our home, emerging exhausted but exhilarated, paint splattered across her clothes and sometimes even in her hair.
"There she is," I murmured to Amelia, pointing out Blake, who was deep in conversation with a woman I recognized from Blue Point Bay's art scene.
Blake caught my eye over the woman's shoulder and smiled, that secret smile that was just for me. Even after all this time, it still made my heart skip a beat.
"Excuse me," she said to the woman, making her way toward us. "My family needs me."
My family . Two simple words that never failed to make my chest tighten with emotion.
"How's it going?" I asked as she reached us, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
"Amazing." Her eyes were bright with excitement. "I've sold eight pieces already, and that woman from Blue Point Bay wants to feature my work in her gallery next month. It will be a good promotion for the gallery too."
"I told you they'd love you," I said, adjusting Amelia on my hip as she reached for Blake. "Everyone does."
Blake took Amelia from me, bouncing her gently. "Isn't this incredible? Look at how many people came to support Willowbrook's newest arts destination."
I glanced around at the crowd, nodding in agreement. Our little town was becoming known for more than just Booker's rehabilitation ranch. Between the clinic's success and now Blake's gallery, Willowbrook was transforming from a sleepy small town into a genuine tourist destination.
"Xander!" Emma waved enthusiastically, making her way toward us with her husband, Finn, in tow. "We just wanted to thank you again for coming out last week when Finn cut his hand. I don't know what we would've done if we'd had to drive all the way to Blue Point Bay."
"It's my job," I said with a smile. "How's it healing?"
"Good as new," Finn held up his bandaged hand. "Though I still can't believe I sliced myself on a bread knife, of all things."
The decision to become Willowbrook's on-call emergency doctor had been an easy one once I'd realized what I truly wanted: a life where I could be there for my family while still using my skills to help others. I coordinated with the clinic in the next town, handling emergencies and routine care right here in Willowbrook so people didn't have to travel for every minor issue. It wasn't a full-time position, which meant I had plenty of time to be with Blake and Amelia, to work part time at the clinic, to simply live.
But most of all, to be the father I'd never had.
"Xander," Blake touched my arm, bringing me back to the present. "Can you take Amelia for a minute? Delaney wants to show me something."
I took our daughter back, settling her against my chest where she immediately laid her head on my shoulder, her eyelids drooping. It had been a long, exciting day, and she was finally running out of steam.
"She's adorable," Reece said, appearing at my side with Booker. "Hard to believe how much has changed in a year, isn't it?"
"Sometimes I can hardly believe it myself," I admitted, gently swaying to keep Amelia comfortable. "But then I look at them, and I can't imagine any other life."
Booker clapped me on the shoulder, his expression reflecting both pride and concern. "The ranch's bookings for our second year are already filling up. You were right about the demand."
"Good thing we started those expansion plans early," I said, my mind briefly turning to Gage. It had been a rough time dealing with everything that had happened. I pushed the thought away, focusing instead on tonight's celebration.
The crowd began to thin as the evening wore on, and soon only our closest friends and family remained. Dex was helping Trace and Booker move some furniture to create a small dance floor in the center of the gallery, while Delaney and Reece set up a playlist on the sound system.
"Look at little Barrett," I said, nodding toward where Delaney had settled with her nearly one-year-old son. "He already looks so much like Trace."
"Poor kid," Booker laughed.
I smiled, watching as Trace joined his wife and son, his expression tender as he gazed down at them. I never thought our kids growing up together would have been something that was so important to me, but now that it was happening, it just felt so right.
Blake made her way back to me, her eyes shining. "Have I told you how much I love you today?"
"You might have mentioned it once or twice," I teased, leaning down to kiss her. "But I never get tired of hearing it."
Blake
I looked around the gallery, still hardly able to believe this was all happening. My artwork on the walls. Friends and family gathered to celebrate. And to do it all right here, in Willowbrook, my home.
When Xander had suggested converting the old medical practice into a gallery, I'd been skeptical. But standing here now, seeing my vision brought to life in this space, I couldn't imagine a more perfect setting. We'd stripped away the clinical feel, exposing original brick walls and wooden beams that gave the gallery a warmth I'd immediately fallen in love with.
That first show that had felt so impossible had been a sell out. I still wanted to pinch myself whenever I thought about it. I’d not only made enough to pay Xander back for all those early expenses, which I’d been absolutely adamant to do, but I had enough to fund the gallery here and put something away for Amelia’s future.
I’d gone from an artist running from creative block to the happiest I’d ever been, creating constantly because it felt so impossible to stop.
"The old doctor would be proud to see how you've transformed this place," Helen, one of the Wednesday Lunch Club ladies, said as she approached us. "Though I think he'd be even more pleased to know his building is still helping heal people—just in a different way."
I smiled, touched by her words. "Art has its own way of healing, doesn't it?"
"Indeed it does, dear," Helen agreed, patting my arm before moving on to admire another painting.
Music filled the room, a slow melody that wrapped around us like a blanket. I took Xander's hand, leading him to the makeshift dance floor. "Dance with me?"
He glanced down at Amelia, now fast asleep against his shoulder. "I think we might have to make it a group number."
I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around both of them. We swayed gently to the music, our daughter nestled between us, our friends and family creating a protective circle around the edges of the room. The scent of summer flowers from the arrangements Reece had brought filled the air, so different from the crisp spring blossoms that had been blooming when Amelia first came into our lives.
"Did I ever tell you," I murmured against Xander's chest, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear—a nervous habit I'd never quite broken, "that the day Madison left Amelia with me, I was terrified I couldn't do it? That I wasn't enough?"
"You never had to tell me," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I could see it in your eyes. I was scared too."
"And now look at us," I said, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "We built something beautiful together, didn't we?"
"We did," he agreed, his eyes reflecting the soft lights strung around the gallery. The same eyes that had once evaluated me with clinical detachment now held nothing but warmth and love.
I glanced over to where Billie stood chatting with Dex, both of them laughing at something he'd said. They'd grown so close over the last couple of months. Perhaps Dex would be the next Farrington brother to find his way to happiness.
Later, as we walked home under a canopy of stars, Amelia slumped against Xander's chest, too tired to walk, I slipped my hand into his. The warmth of his palm against mine still sent a thrill through me, even after all this time.
"I've been thinking," I said, my voice soft in the quiet night.
"Dangerous," he teased, squeezing my hand.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "I was thinking that maybe it's time Amelia had a real dog to go with our imaginary Toby."
He laughed, the sound carrying through the still night air. "Are you sure you want to add another member to our already chaotic household?"
"I think we can handle it," I said, feeling the confidence that had become my new normal. "Besides, every kid should have a dog. And every family needs a protector."
"I thought that was my job," he said, pulling me closer to his side as we walked.
"You can share the responsibility," I suggested, resting my head against his shoulder. "Like we share everything else."
As we approached our home, I took in the sight of it—so different from the solitary studio where I'd hidden away when this all began. Through the window, I could see my easel set up on the porch, mirroring where I used to work alone, except now there were two chairs side by side.
"I love you," Xander said as we reached the porch steps, the words simple but carrying the weight of everything we'd been through together.
I rose on my tiptoes to press my lips to his, the kiss soft and familiar and still somehow thrilling. "I love you too. Always."
As we crossed the threshold into our home, Amelia stirred against his chest, her eyes fluttering open just long enough to mumble a sleepy "Mama... Dada" before drifting back to sleep.
And in that moment, standing in the entry of our home with the taste of celebration still sweet on my lips, the lingering scent of paint and summer flowers in the air, and the sound of our daughter's steady breathing between us, I knew that all the broken pieces of my past had led me here.
To this family that was ours, completely and irrevocably.
And to this love that had saved us both in every way a person could be saved.