Judge Burns is in a black robe and a big smile. “Ohhh! I didn’t know there would be so many babies at this ceremony. I’m so glad I said yes to a Friday afternoon wedding now. I usually like to close the courtroom at noon, you know.”
“We’re very grateful, your honor,” Alban says, and presses a button on his phone.
The wedding march. I’ve got Laurel, the beautiful daughter I love, in the stroller, and a bouquet of mountain laurel, holly, and poinsettia, made by the sweet lady at the garden center where we got our Christmas tree. The music comes from a phone, the dress is second-hand and was popular in the eighties, and the flowers are plastic, the kind you use to make wreaths.
And I’m getting married to the sweetest, bravest man in the universe. I’m getting married, at all.
“The story is just beginning,” I whisper to myself, walking steadily up the aisle, eyes locked on Artie’s face as it works and flexes. He runs a hand over his jaw to try to hold in his tears, and I find myself fast-forwarding to our three-day vacation—our honeymoon at home.
“Do we have everyone and everything we need to get started?” Judge Burns asks, beaming down on us as our little family unites up front, flanked by friends.
“Absolutely everything,” Artie says, scooping Laurel up in one hand and wrapping his arm around my waist.
The Judge smiles. “Well, then, I think I’m gonna do the gussied-up version for such an adorable little family. Dearly beloved...”
I lay my head on Artie’s shoulder and feel Laurel grip my fingers tight.
Dearly beloved is right.
Epilogue: Krampus, Baby
December 5th, 2025
AKA Krampusnacht
Pine Ridge, New York
I keep staring at my ring. It’s a thin, dark yellow gold. Imogene’s is a similar shade, but they’re not a matching set. I don’t care. She and I are the matching set.
I light candles. Turn on music. Tonight is a new beginning, but I don’t expect it to be a physical one. Imogene still has bruises on her arms, and one cut is still healing, even though the rest seem to be gone. Krampus healing, I guess.
“Okay. Want to see what Libby gave me?”
“Absolutely.” I know a few of Immy’s friends had a mini bridal shower for her yesterday after the library’s story hour. I bet it’s something like a vase that we can keep her bridal bouquet in.
“It’s not my usual style, maybe. But she said even if it’s our second wedding night, I ought to use it as an excuse.”
“Huh? Excuse for what?” I ask, smoothing down the bed covers.
Immy strides into the room, and I have to sit down.
Holy sexbomb. “Baby,” I gasp.
“She said it was perfect for a December bride,” Imogene says with a blush and saunters over to me in a body suit made of white lace in a snowflake pattern. Everything is sheer. Everything is on display.
“Fuck,” I hiss, wondering how in the world I’m going to behave myself when Imogene looks like a pink and white candy cane that ought to be devoured on the spot.
“It unsnaps here, and then you pull the rest off. It’s stretchy,” Immy explains, fingers dancing over her navel and guiding my eyes to the three white buttons at her crotch.
“I thought you might want to just curl up and watch a movie. Look, I already searched for ‘Newlywed Romcoms and Holiday Romcoms. Planes, Trains, and Candycanes. That sounds cute,” my voice sounds like I ate helium instead of the awesome little wedding cake that Mr. and Mrs. Wickstaff had made for us.
“I do. Tomorrow. Or later tonight,” Imogene purrs and then prances up to me, her feet smooth and high-arched, ending in a flat hoof-like surface that tip-taps as she bounces into my arms. “Do you know why this is good?”
My mind explodes with reasons. The past two months blur together at high speed.
My first real home.
My baby girl.
