Epilogue
June
Three months later.
Spring sunlight floods through the windows of our house—our house, I still have to remind myself sometimes—bringing with it the kind of warmth that feels surreal.
The Sweet Spot’s expansion is complete and thriving beyond my wildest dreams. A small café section with seating, two new staff members, features in two more magazines. One called me “Willowbridge’s rising star in artisan baking.” Riley framed it and hung it in the shop.
Emma’s excelling at school, proudly showing off “her June” to anyone who’ll listen. Last week she dragged me to parent-teacher night and introduced me as her bonus mom to one of the teachers. I cried in the car afterward—happy tears, the kind I’m still getting used to.
Harper’s seven months pregnant now, visibly glowing despite her complaints about swollen ankles and constant heartburn. Maya’s easing back into work, and baby Theo is growing so fast it’s almost alarming.
Tonight is Sunday dinner at our place—a tradition that’s become sacred.
Everyone’s here. Harper and Nate squeezed onto one side of the table, Maya and Lucas on the other with Theo in his lap. Emma’s at the head of the table, telling an animated story about something that happened at recess—complete with hand gestures and sound effects.
I watch them all—this chaotic, beautiful found family—and something inside me settles and locks into place.
Adam’s hand finds mine under the table.
His thumb traces my ring finger—still bare, but the gesture isn’t lost on me.
I turn to look at him. He’s watching me with that expression I’ve come to know so well. The one that says I love you and you’re everything and this is our life now.
I squeeze his hand, smiling.
“June, are you listening?” Emma asks, pulling my attention back.
“Of course. You were just getting to the dodgeball incident.”
“Right! So then Kyle tried to catch it but it hit him in the face—" She dissolves into giggles, and the whole table laughs with her.
Harper catches my eye across the table and mouths, You good?
I nod. Perfect.
And I mean it.
Later, after the dishes are done and Emma’s tucked into bed and everyone’s said their goodbyes, Adam and I find ourselves on the back porch.
The night air is cool, the sky clear and full of stars.
He pulls me against him, arms wrapping around me from behind. I lean into his warmth.
“I love our life,” he says quietly.
“Me too.”
“I love that Emma calls you her bonus mom.”
My throat tightens. “She started that herself. I didn’t ask her to.”
“I know. That’s what makes it perfect.”
We stand there in comfortable silence, watching the stars, the house glowing warm behind us.
Our life. Our family. Our forever.
It started with a grumpy single dad and a buttercream disaster.
And it became everything I never knew I wanted.
I close my eyes, breathing it all in—the smell of spring, of home, of this.
This is just the beginning.
And I can’t wait to see what comes next.
THE END