When she handed her to me, I settled into the chair with her cradled against my chest. Her tiny body felt so warm and solid in my arms. She stirred but didn’t wake.
“She looks nothing like me,” I said, studying her face. “She looks just like you.”
Isabel laughed softly. “Give her time. She might grow into your nose.”
“God, I hope not.”
We sat in comfortable silence, the three of us, while the hospital hummed quietly around us. I thought about everything that had led to this moment. The months of uncertainty and fear and slowly building trust.
“We made her,” I said, still not quite believing it. “You and me.”
“We did.” Isabel’s eyes met mine across the dim room. “Thank you for not giving up on me,” she added quietly.
I kissed her forehead, then her lips, soft and slow.
“Never.”
EPILOGUE
ISABEL
The Avila women had taken over the master bedroom at Miremont.
Alex was doing my makeup while Saffron fussed with my hair. Eberly had commandeered the steamer and was attacking invisible wrinkles in my dress. Daphne was entertaining Anaïs on the bed, making ridiculous faces that had my daughter gurgling with laughter.
Four months old, and she already had everyone wrapped around her tiny fingers.
“Hold still,” Alex ordered, brandishing a mascara wand. “You’re going to end up looking like a raccoon.”
“I’m nervous,” I bit back, which made Alex smile and look at me like she was a proud mama herself.
“You’re marrying my brother. You should be nervous. You’re stuck with us forever now.”
I laughed, and she sighed and waited for me to stop moving before finishing my eyes.
This was my life now. Chaos and laughter and women who had absorbed me into their ranks without question. I hadn’t known what it meant to be surrounded by people who showed up, who helped, who made your problems their problems without being asked.
I knew now.
The door opened, and Lucia stepped inside. She wore a deep-burgundy dress that set off her silver hair, and her eyes went bright the moment she saw me.
“Oh,mija.” Her hand pressed to her heart. “You’re beautiful.”
I stood, careful not to step on the hem of my dress, and turned to face her. The gown was simple—ivory silk, clean lines, and a neckline that skimmed my collarbones. No beading, no lace, no elaborate train. Just me.
“Thank you.” I crossed the room and took her hands in mine. “For everything. For loving me, most of all.”
Lucia’s eyes filled with tears. She cupped my face the way she always cupped her children’s faces, like I was precious.
“That’s what mothers do,” she said.
I hugged her, and she held me tight, and when we finally separated, we were both laughing at ourselves for crying before the ceremony had even started.
“Enough!” Alex declared. “I am not fixing that makeup again. Everyone, pull yourselves together.”
The ceremony was heldin the rose garden that Rascon and I had painstakingly brought back to what I imagined was its former glory. Eberly, who had the greenest thumb of anyone I knew, probably deserved the most credit.
We’d set up rows of chairs, with an arbor at the end, draped in white flowers and trailing greenery. The November sun hung golden in the sky, casting long shadows across the hills.
