Epilogue

THORNE

We will sing, sing, sing. Joy to the world. We will sing, sing, sing

Tuesday, December 24, 2024

M Street NW, Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

4:02 pm

I glance over at Woodley, her arm linked with mine, holding Isla against her chest. Our little girl is bundled up in the warmest clothes we could find, her tiny face peeking out from under a wool hat. She's only three months old, but already she's got this way of looking at the world like her momma does, ready to take it by storm.

Exactly how I feel, standing here with them.

We stop in front of the same massive Christmas tree where, just a year ago, I kissed Woodley. Back then, everything was uncertain. We barely knew what we were doing, still figuring out if what happened between us between Chattanooga and Boston was real or just a product of our circumstance.

Now, I can't imagine life without her, without Isla. Funny how fast things can change.

Woodley looks up at me, her eyes soft and full of warmth, and I feel a swell of pride. She's stronger than she knows, braver than anyone I've ever met. Everything we've been through this past year has made us who we are now.

"Can you believe it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, like she's afraid to break the magic of the moment. "We've come full circle in three hundred and sixty-five days and look how much has changed." She glances down at Isla when she says it, her thumb gently brushing her fat cheek.

I shake my head, staring up at the twinkling lights of the tree. "Nope. It's hard to wrap my head around everything we've been through together."

She grins, her eyes sparkling under the lights, and I feel that same rush I did when we first got stuck together—except now, it's more than just attraction. It's love. Deep, true love.

I look down at Isla, who's staring up at the Christmas lights with wide, curious eyes. She lets out a soft little gurgle, and I swear, it's like the world shifts a little every time she makes a sound. "She loves it," I say, grinning.

Woodley laughs, her voice full of the same joy I'm feeling. "Of course she does. She's a Christmas baby."

I pull them both closer, letting out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Best surprise ever," I say softly.

And it's true. I didn't see Isla coming. When Woodley told me she was pregnant last February, six weeks along and completely blindsided, I was shocked. I guess IUDs aren't full-proof?

Strangely, though, I never panicked. I knew then, just like I know now, that we were meant to be together.

"You know," Woodley says, tilting her head back to look at me, "you've really come into your own this year. I couldn't be more proud of everything you've done."

I raise an eyebrow, smirking. "Yeah? For the better, I hope."

She smiles, that same teasing smile I've grown to love. "Well, you didn't need improvement, so better probably isn't the right word. But you've grown so much."

She's right. I'm not the guy I was a year ago, desperate to prove myself to everyone, especially my father.

We ended up getting the account with ValorTech. It was a turning point. It not only boosted the company, but it also showed me I could stand on my own, make my own choices, my own future. My father's investment paid off, sure, but more importantly, I learned that I didn't need his approval to know I was doing the right thing.

"I think you've changed too," I say, nudging her gently.

Woodley looks away for a moment, her expression growing more serious. "Yeah, I guess I have."

She rarely talks about her family. It took incredible strength to walk away from them. She hasn't spoken to them since she stepped out of the picture three years before we met. I can tell she still thinks about them, maybe even misses them, especially now that we have a child. But her resolve to stand up for what's right is something I admire deeply.

For years, she tried to push her father toward positive change, but in the end, he chose his business over her. Until that changes, she's committed to keeping them out of her life.

She didn't even tell him that she was at the airport the day of the bombing in Chattanooga. When I asked why, she said he didn't deserve to know. She's lived in the shadow of his dangerous dealings her whole life, why should she expect him to now be concerned about her safety?

I get what she means, though it's still hard to fully grasp. I'm so close to my family, even thought we have our differences. Her situation is so very different than anything I've ever known that it isn't like comparing apples to apples.

I've looked deeper into Faber-Ward. It's a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, heavily involved in black ops security, arms dealing, and guerrilla warfare contracts. Her father, Glenn Price, is an infamous billionaire, feared and respected around the world for what he does. Yet Woodley, his own daughter, has erased him and her mother from her life because of the choices they made. It's heavy.

After everything that happened with the bombing, some accountability finally got handed to Faber-Ward. There was a congressional investigation, a few people got what was coming to them in the form of jail time, and there were some sanctions issued. It wasn't the total collapse of the empire or anything, but it was enough that they must have felt some pain. Enough for her to feel some closure.

And enough for her to find peace.

"You were already perfect. I just mean you've grown into your role as a mother beautifully."

She shakes her head, meeting my eyes. "It's been the honor of my life. I never saw this in the cards for me, and I'm so grateful you made it happen. I love you and I love our family."

I smile, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "I love you, too, with all of my heart. You and Isla."

We stand there for a few more moments, just soaking in the magic of the evening. It's colder than last year, but the snow is still falling in that gentle way that makes everything seem softer, quieter.

"Come on," I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Let's get that drink. I could use something warm. We still have a few hours until Mom's famous Christmas Eve Dinner. It will be Isla's first."

She grins, nodding. "I can hardly wait for her delicious pecan pie. Can I go straight to desert?"

"I always say desert first," I say, laughing as we turn and head down the street toward the café.

As we walk, I glance down at Isla, who's already dozing off, and then over at Woodley. This—this is everything I didn't know I needed to complete me. A family. A future. Love, in all its complicated, messy, beautiful forms.

It's funny, last Christmas, I thought proving myself was the biggest challenge. But now I see what I really needed was a partner—a true teammate. Someone who makes me better, someone who fills in the missing pieces.

And with her, I've found the total package. We are unstoppable.