Epilogue
Zander - seventeen months later
For the second year in a row, Addie is late to the Beaver Creek Winter Carnival.
Last year, it was because I was tying up loose ends, finally moving from my apartment and into the big yellow house, and we got our wires crossed.
This year, she’s been flitting around all day, working on a project she won’t let me see.
She told me to go grab her favourite snowflake mini cake before the Dam Baked stall ran out.
So I left my old girl, Lucy, back home and now I have the cake and no Adelaide.
I stand in the snow next to Beverly, who has a Christmas tree hat with its very own set of blinking lights on her head. It’s a terrible waiting spot. I’ve moved five times in the last two minutes as carnival goers take photos with her.
I consider moving, but catch a flash of my favourite red hair as the thought flickers across my mind. Addie rushes through the park, a bright pink present in her hands.
“What have you been up to all day?” I ask.
“Absolutely nothing,” she says in a singsong. “Just been busy doing absolutely nothing.”
Her cheeks flush, not from the cold. She just can’t keep any emotion off her face. She’s vibrating with excitement. Her eyes are dancing and I have the strongest urge to kiss her senseless.
“Addie,” I say, grabbing hold of her hand and looping her into me, “you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”
“I know. Which is why I’m not keeping one for six more days. You’re getting your Christmas present today.”
My eyes flicker to the box between us. She smirks.
“Let’s get out of the way. Maybe over by the swings?” she suggests and tilts her head, the giant pom on her white toque bouncing. “Everyone seems to be skating or eating right now.”
“Speaking of eating.” I hold out her snowflake cake.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Addie and I head off toward the playground. Predictably, it’s snow-covered and empty, giving us a private alcove of our own. I take a seat on a swing and Addie lowers herself onto the one next to mine. We swap boxes. She taps the bakery box with her gloved hands.
“You okay?” I ask.
I’ve never seen her quite this jumpy. It’s usually me with a bad case of nerves. She nods vigorously, which jars her swing, sending her back and forth. Her cheeks take on a slightly green hue and she plants her feet firmly on the ground. She swallows hard.
“Sorry, yeah, head rush. I’m really good.”
“Is this about whatever’s in here?”
I take off my glove and run a finger through the seam of the glossy paper. She nods again, barely moving her head. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she unsuccessfully tries to hold back a smile.
“Can I open it?”
“Please.”
I can’t explain why, but my heart starts pounding. I unwrap the present as Addie’s foggy breath appears at the corners of my vision. Beneath the paper is the golden box of assorted Lindt chocolates. I look up at her, confused, and she laughs.
“Open it.”
The seal has already been broken, so I lift the lid easily. I instantly see what Addie’s been working on all day. It’s a goose wearing a yellow bow around its neck, embroidered onto white fabric, with the words silliest goose beneath. I lift the newborn onesie and hold it out in front of me.
“Addie,” I whisper.
Her hands cover her mouth as she lets loose the grin. “Do you remember when I screamed and told you I saw an earwig this morning?” I let out a shaky laugh in response. “Well, I lied. I’m pregnant.”
I stare at the onesie so long my eyes blur with tears. Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
I jump off my swing and crush Addie’s body against mine.
She wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight.
I never want to forget this moment. I commit the bite of cold and fresh smell of snow to memory.
The way Addie’s hands grip the back of my neck and how her laughter bleeds into a deliriously happy sob.
“You’re serious?” I ask, pulling back and cradling her face between my hands.
“I joke about a lot of things but I would never joke about this. You’re going to be a father, Zander.”
Her voice breaks and I kiss her. I’m going to be a dad. My hand finds its way under her knee-length peacoat and flattens against her stomach. It’s the same as ever, but forever changed. Something we made is growing there.
I lean in to kiss her again, but a voice on the wind, calling our names, stops me.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you guys!” Nora, Beaver Creek’s best reporter, says, “I wanted to do a story about the book you just announced. Get an inside scoop the big papers won’t.”
Addie and I finally decided to write our historical thriller. Our agents and publishers loved it. Something about our love story really elevated the pitch, and the internet seems to agree.
“Absolutely!” Addie replies immediately, because her brain has had more than five minutes to adjust to our big life-changing news. “Send me a text.”
Nora blushes as she notes our embrace and takes a step back. Her eyes linger on the piece of fabric hanging from my right hand.
“Will do. I’ll leave you guys to it. This, by the way,” Nora says, gesturing to the onesie, “is off the record.”
Addie snort-laughs. “I mean, it could also be on the record and we could make the most obnoxious announcement ever.”
“Off the record for now,” I add with a wink. “We can be as obnoxious as you’d like in the new year.”
Nora leaves, her footsteps crunching beaten down snow with every step. I run my thumb along Addie’s belly button.
“I’m going to be so obnoxious about this, I promise.”
“I know.” I grin. God, I love her. “We’re having a baby.”
“We’re having a baby. You’re going to be so outnumbered. I’m channelling all my silly goose energy into this.”
I bring her face to mine and kiss her exactly the way I envisioned when she walked into this park. I cannot wait to live this chaotic life with her. I wouldn’t have it any other way.