epilogue
CALLAN
Another infamous MacKenzie gathering. Knox and Juliette’s place is once again a whirlwind of chaos, but it’s the best kind. Their twins, barely a month old, are both wailing in unison. Juliette is rocking one while Bree tries to soothe the other.
“Do they always do this at once?” I ask Knox.
He glances over with an amused expression that doesn’t quite mask his exhaustion. “Aye. One cries, and the other is quick to follow.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s like they’ve got their own wee communication system,” I muse, eyeing the red-faced twins. “A MacKenzie conspiracy already in the making.”
Knox, the once unflappable distillery heir, now looks like he’s been run through the wringer. His hair is disheveled, and there are dark circles under his eyes, but there’s a contentment in his gaze that I haven’t seen before.
Just then, Juliette manages to quiet her bundle. I think that’s Keira? Honestly, I’ve lost track at this point. The sudden absence of one cry seems to startle the other into silence. Theroom falls into a blessed hush, broken only by Bree’s whispered, “Thank you, Jesus.”
Bree tiptoes over to me, and with a smile that could melt steel, she carefully transfers…Maisie, I think, into my arms. “Here, Uncle Cal,” she says, the warmth in her voice almost as comforting as the tiny, squirming bundle now nestled in my arms. “Your turn.”
I cradle Maisie, the weight of her little body sending a rush of affection flooding through me. Her eyelids flutter, but she stays asleep, and for a moment, the world outside our little bubble seems to pause.
Bree stands back, watching me. “You’re a natural.”
“Don’t jinx me.” I glance down at Maisie’s tiny face, marveling at how fragile and perfect she is. “But, yeah, I think I’ve got this. For now.”
Bree chuckles and takes a seat beside me on the couch, her gaze soft as she leans her head on my shoulder. “You’re doing great. And Juliette? She’s amazing.”
I glance over at Juliette, who’s still rocking Keira to sleep. There’s a peaceful smile on her face that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of smile that says, despite the exhaustion, she’s found something worth every sleepless night.
The room is still, almost eerily quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional sigh from one of the babies. The chaos pauses for a brief moment, and we all breathe in the calm before the next wave hits.
“Do you have any idea how incredibly attractive you are right now?” Bree whispers.
I raise a brow, a smirk lifting at the corner of my mouth. “Oh? Is this your way of saying you want one of these wee bundles for yourself?”
She laughs. “Hold your horses, MacKenzie. I’m just saying it’s…endearing. I’m appreciating the view.”
“Endearing, hm? I’ll have you know, I’m always endearing. It’s part of my charm.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s nothing but love in her gaze. “And modest, too, I see.”
“Modesty’s overrated,” I quip, adjusting Maisie as her tiny fingers curl around mine.
“You know,” she says, casually brushing her fingers along Maisie’s tiny, socked foot, “if we ever getmarried…” She says it like it’s just a thought, a hypothetical tossed into the breeze, but her voice dips a little at the word, like she’s testing it out on her tongue.
I arch a brow, not missing a beat. “If, huh?”
She shrugs, feigning nonchalance while her cheeks turn pink. “Well,if. Thenmaybewe can talk about babies.”
I let out a hushed laugh, careful not to wake the sleeping bundle in my arms. “Ah, so this is a long con. Lure me in with your charm, trick me into marrying you, and then boom. Next thing I know, we’ve got three toddlers climbing the curtains and drawing on the walls.”
She grins wickedly. “Exactly. It’s all part of the master plan. You’ve fallen right into my trap.”
I hum thoughtfully, shifting on the couch so Maisie can snuggle deeper into the crook of my arm. “Guess I’ll just have to be on my guard. Keep my wits about me.”
She’s completely unaware that the ring is burning a hole in my pocket as we speak.
I’ve carried it for weeks now. Tucked it in my pocket every time we’ve had a quiet night or a sunset walk, thinking maybe it was the one. The moment never feels quite enough—not because she isn’t, but because I’m terrified I won’t get it right.
Maybe there is no perfect way of doing it. Maybe there’s just this, her laughter, my nerves, our messy, beautiful life already unfolding in front of us.
