Epilogue
Harper
Three weeks after our honeymoon—where we barely left the room except for that one sunset horseback ride on the beach—I'm sitting in Dr. Martinez's office wondering if jet lag can last this long.
"You're not dying," she says with a smile, "but when was your last period?"
I open my mouth to answer, then close it. Open it again. "I... the wedding stress threw everything off. I was erratic with my pills, and—" I stop, the blood draining from my face. "Oh my God."
"Let's do a test to be sure."
Ten minutes later, I'm staring at a plus sign that changes everything.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Lane-Wilder. You're about five weeks pregnant."
Five weeks. The wedding. Our reconciliation. Somewhere in that chaotic, emotional, perfect mess, we created a life.
I drive home in a daze, the test results in my purse, trying to figure out how to tell Nate.
We'd talked about kids, of course. Four of them, eventually.
After the education center was established.
After we'd had time to just be married. A few months ago we'd stared at that negative test together.
I saw the disappointment in his eyes. We'd wanted it. Just… not yet.
The universe, as usual with us, has other plans.
Nate's in the kitchen when I get home, covered in what looks like paint. "The education center's mural is coming along," he says, kissing me with green-speckled lips. "Harper? You okay? You look pale."
I take a breath. Then another. Then just blurt it out because subtlety has never been my strong suit.
"Remember how we wanted four kids?"
"Eventually, yeah." He's washing paint from his hands, not catching my tone yet.
"Well, we better start now because I'm pregnant."
The plate he's holding clatters into the sink. He turns, eyes wide. "You're—"
"Pregnant. Five weeks. Wedding stress, missed pills, lots of makeup sex..."
His face cycles through shock to wonder to pure, radiant joy. "We're having a baby?"
"We're having a baby."
He crosses the kitchen in two strides, lifting me onto the counter, his hands framing my face. "A baby."
"I know the timing isn't—"
"It's perfect timing."
I laugh. "Nothing about us has been perfect timing."
"Exactly right then." He kisses me, deep and thorough. "A baby. Our baby. God, Harper, we're having a baby."
His hand drops to my still-flat stomach, and the tenderness in his expression breaks me. Happy tears flow freely.
"The education center—" I start.
"Will be perfect for our kid to grow up around. Your articles—"
"Won the Regional Journalism Award yesterday, by the way."
He spins me around the kitchen. "Of course they did. My brilliant wife. Growing our baby and winning awards."
***
Later, we walk to the willow tree as the sun sets. The arch from our wedding remains, June's flowers dried but still wound through the wood.
"You scared?" I ask, leaning into him.
"Terrified."
"Think we'll do okay?" The question I've been afraid to ask since seeing that plus sign.
"We'll do our best," he says, hand resting on my stomach. "That's enough."
I think about our journey—the breaks, the distance, the reunion, the almost-endings that became beginnings. Nothing about us has been conventional or easy.
"We're really doing this," I say. "The center, the baby, the whole life we planned."
"Eight years of foreplay finally paying off," he murmurs against my ear, making me shiver.
"Nate! We're at our wedding tree!"
His hand slides lower on my waist. "Want to commemorate finding out?"
"I'm already pregnant!"
"Practice for the next three." He's kissing my neck now, and my knees go weak like they always do.
"You're insatiable."
"You married me anyway." He spins me against the tree, careful but intent. "Mrs. Lane-Wilder."
"Dr. Lane-Wilder," I say, then gasp as he finds that spot below my ear.
"My brilliant, pregnant, award-winning wife," he says between kisses. "How did I get so lucky?"
"Pure stubbornness," I manage, then pull him down for a proper kiss.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, the stars are fully out.
"Home?" he asks, but his eyes promise this isn't over.
"Home."
We walk back hand in hand, two people who broke each other and healed each other, who are finally living the life they always dreamed of.
It's messy and imperfect and absolutely ours.
And in about eight months, it'll be even messier.
I can't wait.
THE END