17. Epilogue -One Year Later

Chapter 17

Epilogue -One Year Later

Grant

"You look beautiful, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you." As I stand next to Ella, our reflections captured in the full-length mirror, my heart swells with love. I am overwhelmed by how much my life has transformed in less than a year. I'm the luckiest man alive to have this woman by my side.

Ella pouts, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her dress as if it doesn't fit. In reality, she looks absolutely stunning. Despite being nearly nine months pregnant, her doctor has assured her that she's right on track for her due date in just three short weeks. "I feel like a beached whale," she grumbles, casting a sidelong glance at her reflection in the mirror. "Do I really have to attend? We won't even get our diplomas at the ceremony. The school will just send them in the mail next month." Her words are tinged with disappointment, but there's a hint of relief in her tone as well.

I can't stand to hear her talk about herself that way. Her parents did a number on her self-esteem, but I'm determined to help her repair the damage. "Don't you dare say those things," I snap, my voice laced with frustration. "You're more than just a beautiful woman carrying our baby. You're strong and resilient, and today is your college graduation day. You fought through morning sickness, back pain, early classes, and evening seminars to finish your degree on schedule. You deserve to celebrate this accomplishment." I take her hand in mine, my fingers intertwined with hers. "And when they call out your name, Ella March-Whitlock, you will walk across that stage with pride and joy because you earned this moment." My resolve is clear as I look into her eyes. "And if I have to, I'll drag you down that stage myself."

Ella turns to face me, her body pressing against mine in a warm embrace. Her arms wrap around my waist, holding her hips back as if she's self-conscious about her prominent bump. But I don't mind, I just pull her closer, unable to resist the love and affection she gives me.

As we stand there, lost in each other's touch, Ella suddenly breaks the silence with a worry-filled question. "But what if I'm walking down that stage and my water breaks? Do you have any idea how embarrassing that could be?" Worry creases her forehead, and she nibbles on her bottom lip. "I may have to give birth in the car."

I bring my lips to hers, tracing a gentle path from her collarbone to her shoulder. My fingertips dance across her skin, trying to soothe and calm the nerves that I know are fluttering beneath the surface. "That won't happen, sweetheart," I murmur against her lips. "I heard you tell Gale you didn't want to take that official graduation photo while heavily pregnant. But have you considered the bigger picture?"

Ella pulls away from my embrace and glides gracefully toward her vanity dresser. She unlocks a small jewelry box and delicately removes a single strand of pearls. With a slight tilt of her head, she gestures for me to help her fasten the clasp. "That's the problem, Grant," she says softly. "I will be remembered as the graduate who waddled across the stage in my cap and gown. And I'll have a giant portrait to show it. I heard you ordering advanced copies."

I hesitantly confess, "I went a little overboard and ordered a ton of copies…" My voice trails off as I continue. "And one day we'll sit down with Eleanor and show her the photos, immortalizing her presence on one of the most important days of your life."

Ella's green eyes grow wide, then instantly mist. Her sweet smile stretches from ear to ear as she lovingly cradles her belly, then leans her forehead onto my chest. "Oh, I've been so wrapped up in my vanity, I'd almost forgotten how special it will be to have my sweet girl with me."

"Well, it's only fitting. She was at our wedding too—even if we didn't know it at the time." A small smile tugs at my lips as I remember the day I officially made Ella mine. I gently press a kiss to her forehead, feeling a sense of gratitude and love wash over me. We were married three months after our first date, and four weeks later, we discovered that she was six weeks pregnant.

Looking back, we should have seen it coming and I'm still stunned I didn't knock her up much earlier. I was so eager to create this beautiful life with her by my side, I still believe I somehow willed our Eleanor into existence. And in three short weeks, she'll be here.

Ella gracefully slips her feet into her shoes and strides confidently into the hallway, a determined look on her face. "Today is going to be amazing," she declares with a sense of fierce determination. "I refuse to let anything steal my joy. Let's go, sweetheart."

I grab the cap, gown, and purse that Ella has absentmindedly left on the bed and join her as we head downstairs. But halfway down, she abruptly stops in her tracks.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned by the sudden change in her demeanor.

Ella turns around and points back to our bedroom. "My bag."

I quickly assure her, "No worries, I've got it." I wave her small clutch in front of her to ease her concerns.

"Not that one." Ella shakes her head and points to the stair she's standing on. "I need my hospital bag. My water broke."

My heart skips as a beat as two weeks of Lamaze classes flash before my eyes. I promised myself I wouldn't panic, but my mind goes blank as I try to remember what to do first. "Right, right. It's go time. Just sit down and I'll grab your bag."

"Don't worry, Grant," Ella reassures me with love in her voice. "It's going to be okay. Our Eleanor is coming."

As I frantically race upstairs to find Ella's hospital bag, memories flood my mind—the excitement when we packed it last week, the anticipation of meeting our baby girl. And now she's finally on her way into the world. After a few minutes of searching, I locate the bag and hurry downstairs.

"Our little girl is coming." Ella smiles as she breathes through a contraction. "Looks like she couldn't wait to make an entrance."

I can't help but laugh at Ella's humor, even in this intense moment. "I swear, she's already taking after you—always finding a way to avoid having her photo taken."

THE END