epilogue: eliza
One Year Later
"Hold still. You're going to make it crooked."
"It'ssupposedto be crooked." Lucy rolls her eyes with all the dramatic flair of an almost-twelve-year-old. "Crooked has character. Remember?"
I laugh and let her adjust the star on top of the tree. She's right, of course. In fact, she’s been right about a lot of things this year. About the star. About the ranch. About her father.
And about me.
"There." She steps back to admire her work, hands on her hips. "Perfect."
The star leans slightly to the left, just like it did last year. Just like it will every year, if I have anything to say about it. It’s taken no time at all for me to understand that some traditions are worth keeping.
"It's beautiful, sweetheart." I run a hand across the back of her hair.
"I know." She grins at me with her braces, freckles, and boundless confidence. "I'm really good at Christmas."
"The best," I agree.
Lucy bounces off toward the kitchen, where Walker is allegedly making hot chocolate. Although I suspect he’s really just sneaking marshmallows straight from the bag. I pause until I hear Lucy’s squeal of outrage, followed by his low laugh.
Knew it.
A smile tugs at my mouth. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve settled into family life. When I’m here, I fit in like a missing puzzle piece finally snapped into place.
Walker has been patiently waiting for me to transition fully to life on the ranch. I’ve been back and forth between California and Texas more times than I’d like over the past year. Leaving him, even for short stretches, is getting old. My body aches for him and for this place the moment we’re apart.
Squeals of laughter drift from the kitchen, and something warm unfurls in my chest.Home. This is what home feels like.
Instinctively, I press my hand to my stomach. It’s a habit I've developed over the past few weeks. I can’t help it, not since the two pink lines appeared on that little plastic stick. Walker doesn't know yet.
I bought Lucy a shirt that saysBig Sister. Then I found a tiny pair of matching cowboy boots and wrapped them in a box with a note that saysComing Soon.I’m trying to wait until Christmas morning to tell him. But it’s hard because I know he’s going to be elated.
I, on the other hand, am quietly terrified. And honestly, that feels fair. Growing a human is objectively terrifying. Besides, my track record with believing in happy endings hasn't always been great.
But the thought of doing this with Walker takes the edge off. Every time I picture his hand in mine through the journey of parenthood, another emotion slowly chips away at my nerves… I’m excited.
I can’t wait to see him hold our daughter. I can’t wait to watch Lucy become a big sister.
This family is already everything I never knew I needed. Walker, with his stubborn loyalty and his habit of leaving his boots everywhere. Lucy, with her dramatic monologues and her ability to convince me that Christmas trees look better slightly crooked.
They saw every sharp edge I had and chose me anyway. Somehow against every odd, I ended up with a home full of laughter and mismatched mugs. I’m surrounded by people who love me exactly as I am.
And now we’re adding a baby to the mix… My heart isn’t just full. It’s expanding. Stretching. Making room for a future I never dared to imagine.
"You okay?"
I turn to find Walker in the doorway with two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. He's wearing the ridiculous Christmas sweater Lucy picked out for him. It’s red and green with a sequined reindeer that lights up when you press its nose. He looks absurd and somehow hot as hell at the same time.
"I'm great." I take one of the mugs and lean into him when he wraps an arm around my shoulders.
He presses a kiss to my temple. "The family’s coming over tomorrow before we head to Pa’s for game night. Danner called to confirm. He’s bringing that weird goat cheese Becca makes."
"It's not weird. It's artisanal."
"It tastes like feet."
