And judging by the way he pulled me closer as the elevator doors closed, sealing us into our own private world for the ride to the lobby, he was sure of it too.
EPILOGUE
GABRIELLA
The sky lounge looked just as magical as it had at that very first Christmas party three years ago—the night Eli held my hand under the table and whispered he loved me for the first time.
Now, the whole space glowed. White lights crisscrossed overhead, garland wrapped around every flat surface that would hold still long enough, and a fifteen-foot tree stood in the corner like royalty.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Pleasure Valley sparkled below us like a snow globe diorama of “adorable small town that definitely beats your big-city life.”
“You’re doing that thing again,” Eli said as he slid an arm around my waist from behind, his hand settling—proudly—on my seven-months-pregnant belly.
“What thing?”
“The thing where you go full introspective montage and forget you’re at a party.” He kissed my temple. “What’s spinning in that Christmas-cookie brain of yours?”
“How different everything is.” I leaned back against him, watching our friends, who were scattered around the lounge.“Three years ago, I was terrified to show my face at this party. Now look at us.”
“Now look at us,” he echoed, and yes, he was smiling—I could hear it in his voice.
Across the room, Hope was laughing at something Noel said while simultaneously stopping their eighteen-month-old son, Ezra, from climbing onto the bar like a tiny stuntman. She was six months pregnant with baby number two—a girl—and somehow radiating peace despite parenting a toddler with the upper-body strength of an Olympic athlete.
“Ezra, no!” she called, but Noel had already swooped in, lifting their son onto his shoulders without spilling his drink. Honestly impressive.
“Crisis averted,” I said.
“For now.” Eli rubbed slow circles over my belly. “Give it five minutes.”
He wasn’t wrong. The lounge was crawling with kids now—a plot twist none of us had imagined back when we all lived on the sixteenth floor.
Mollie and Grady’s daughter Blakeley was “helping” Avery and Kyle’s daughter, Charlotte, build a pillow fort near the fireplace. At two-and-a-half, the best friends ran on some kind of natural toddler espresso.
“Should we tell them those are eight-hundred-dollar pillows?” I asked.
“Absolutely not.” Eli tightened his hold. “Let them live their best fort-building lives.”
Danika caught my eye from across the room and smiled. She was curled up on a leather sofa, one hand on her own pregnant belly—five months along with baby number two. Their daughter, Lily, slept in Nicholas’s arms, tiny fist clutching his shirt.
“They all make being a parent look so easy,” I murmured.
“So do you.”
“I’m not even a parent yet.”
“But you will be.” He turned me toward him, hands settling on my hips. “And you’re going to be incredible.”
I snorted. “How do you know?”
“Because you make everything better just by existing.” He gave me that soft, private smile—the one nobody else got. “You took my minimalist bachelor-prison of a penthouse and turned it into an actual home. You reminded me why I started my company in the first place. You took my life and filled it with color and chaos and—” He glanced at my belly. “—apparently tinsel, because I know for a fact you’ve already decorated the nursery.”
“It’s festive,” I said defensively.
“It’s perfect.” He kissed me—slow, sweet—the kind of kiss that still curled my toes after three years of marriage.
“Gross,” Sutton called out. “We get it. You’re in love. Save it for your king-size cloud bed.”
I pulled back, laughing. Sutton grinned from across the room while Jameson attempted to convince their son, Benjamin, that shoes were required attire for a party. Benjamin—stubborn, fearless, and one hundred percent Sutton’s child—was not buying it.
