30.Epilogue

Epilogue

Hank

Two and a half years later

“Henry David McAllister, there is no way you’re carrying me over this threshold when I am the size of a blimp.” Bonnie folds her arms, clearly determined to win this argument I didn’t know we were going to have.

My eyes drop to her rotund belly. “But it’s tradition,” I say with a pout.

Her stance doesn’t change, though I can see her resolve breaking the longer we stand here on the porch. “But why is it a tradition?” she asks. “I thought that was just a newlywed thing, and that isn’t us. Besides.” She splays her hands across her stomach. “I am like fifty pounds heavier than normal. And you’re not that strong.”

“Hey,” I complain. “I’ve been working out.”

“Lifting a baby carrier with a bag of flour in it is not working out, Hank.”

“Tell that to my arms.” I flex, though I am well aware that there’s not much there. I am stronger, and I’m feeling confident in my abilities to carry our child as soon as he arrives. Or she. We still don’t know the gender, which is driving me crazy, but Bonnie wanted it to be a surprise.

I point to the door to the Laketown house, which is sitting wide open because my wife refuses to let me pick her up. “I first carried you across this threshold two years ago after our honeymoon,” I tell her, as if she doesn’t remember. “I carried you across the threshold when we bought the house in LA. And the one in London.” That house might be my favorite, but only because my latest series is set in London and it’s a lot easier to write about the gloomy weather when you’re in it, rather than basking in the heat of sunny Southern California.

Bonnie gestures to the house in front of us. “This house isn’t new,” she reminds me. “And we’re only staying here for a week before we go back to California. I’m not having this baby in the middle of nowhere.”

I wrap my hands around her belly and sigh. “She just doesn’t understand,” I tell our unborn child.

Bonnie laughs. “I really don’t, Hank.”

“The house might not be new,” I agree, “but everything inside?”

Bonnie’s expression shifts to one of curiosity, and she tries to take a step inside.

I shift into the doorway and shake my head. “Tradition,” I insist.

Sighing, she looks down at her stomach and waves her hands in resignation. “Fine. But if you drop me, I’m telling Cole.”

The threat lands as she intended, though I’ll never admit it to Cole. He might be one of the nicest people I know, but the man is built like an ox. Unlike me. He would pulverize me.

It takes some huffing and puffing, but I manage to lift Bonnie into my arms and step through the doorway, putting her down on the other side. It’s more a testament of my lack of muscle than it is her weight, no matter what she says. “Was that so difficult?” I ask, breathless .

Bonnie laughs and pats my cheek. “You tell me.” But then she gets her first look at the front room, and her eyes go wide. “Hank! When did you do all this?”

I grin broadly, probably a bit too proud of my handiwork, which includes a couple of couches and a slightly bigger dining table with multiple chairs. And she hasn’t even seen the second bedroom yet. It took forever to go through all of the art supplies and canvases with Shelby’s parents, but we donated whatever paints were still good and sent the finished paintings to the gallery where Shelby worked. Most of them, anyway. I kept a few of my favorites for myself and hung them up around the house.

“Remember when you and Derek flew up to Alaska for that charity thing?” I ask.

Bonnie nods. “A year ago?” Then it clicks, and her eyebrows shoot high. As if she knows what’s waiting for her, she waddles over to the second bedroom and nearly screams when she sees the setup. “Hank! You did this all the way back then? But I wasn’t even…”

I wrap her up in my arms, kissing the base of her neck as we gaze into the sunlit nursery together. This room is my favorite. “I guess I was feeling hopeful.”

Bonnie starts crying, which has happened a lot while she’s been pregnant. “I love it, Hank. But you know I’m not delivering our baby here.”

“I know. But this way we’ll be prepared for the next one.”

Bonnie laughs. “I have that drama I’m filming next year, and then Kasey keeps telling me she wants me to be in the movie she’s writing right now. It might be a while before I have time for another baby.”

“I know that too.” Though, I’m going to do my best to persuade her otherwise. She has to do the hard work up front, but I’m more than willing to give up writing time to look after the kids while she takes the world by storm. She’s so in demand that I’m pretty sure some studios have been trying over the last few months to cast her in pregnant roles just so they can have her in their movies in the interim.

Ever since the wild success of the first Gabrielle Frost movie and its sequel, she has turned down everything but the roles that really interest her, for which I am extremely grateful. I love watching her act, but I love more when she’s with me.

Leaning into me, Bonnie sighs with contentment as she continues to look around the polka-dotted room. “This house is too small for a family, Hank,” she says after a while.

I’m hoping that means she’s expecting a big family, just like I am. We haven’t come to any conclusions about what our family is going to look like, deciding it is best to simply see where life takes us. “Mm,” I murmur, kissing her temple. “I suppose that means we’ll need something bigger for our summer vacations. But I couldn’t decide on a floor plan for the new house, and the architect I hired really wasn’t much help, so I—”

She twists to face me, taking a step back so there’s some space between us. “Architect? You’re not going to tear this place down, are you?”

“The fact that you’re worried I might do something so horrible is really attractive. Is that weird?”

“Hank!”

“I bought the lot next door,” I say with a shrug. “And the one next to that. Actually, we own the whole street except for Chad’s house. I really shouldn’t be in charge of finances when both of us are making so much money, but with our other houses in such busy areas, I thought we could use something more private.”

Bonnie throws her arms around my shoulders, and though she’s a lot harder to hold when she’s blimp-sized, I hold her as tightly as I can. I always do.

“I love you,” I tell her.

“We’re having a girl,” she replies .

I gasp. “You’ve known this whole time?” My mind starts spinning with images of a miniature version of Bonnie running around, and I can’t picture anything more perfect. The next month of waiting is going to be agony.

I lean back so I can brush my finger along her freckled cheek. She grows more and more beautiful every day, though Hot Scoop thinks she’ll hold on to her baby weight after our baby is born. What do they know? Just last week they posted a story about a two-year-old with the ability to see through time, so I think they’re losing their touch. Besides, even if Bonnie doesn’t lose the baby weight, she’ll still be the most attractive person in the world. Call me biased, but there’s no contest.

“What if we name her Gabrielle?” Bonnie says.

I barely hold back my snort of laughter. “That would be arrogant of us, don’t you think? That name made us both more famous than we ought to be, though I hear it’s a very kick-buttery name.” Besides, Gabrielle will always make me think of Shelby, and that chapter of my life is over. I’m eager to keep living this new one.

“Well, what do you think we should name our daughter?” Bonnie asks, raising her eyebrows.

I grin. “I’ll let you know when I meet her.” And then I kiss my wife, savoring this moment just as I’ve savored every moment I have with Bonnie. I don’t intend to take any second for granted.