Epilogue

Drake

One Year Later

Snow falls softly outside, dusting the streets of Pinegrove in a perfect, sparkling white. Inside our home, the warmth of the fire crackles in the hearth, the scent of freshly baked gingerbread cookies filling the air. Laughter echoes down the hallway, and I pause for a moment, standing at the doorway to the living room, taking it all in.

Our first official Hudson Christmas.

The boys are huddled together on the floor, eagerly tearing through boxes of ornaments, their excitement infectious. They’ve already decided this is going to be the biggest tree yet—taller than last year’s, taller than anything they’ve ever seen. And as I watch them work, my heart swells with a kind of love I never imagined was possible.

"Drake?" Wynter’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see her standing beside me, cradling a steaming mug of cocoa in her hands. Her eyes are bright with the glow of the firelight, her smile just as radiant as the day we said: "I do."

She steps closer, leaning into me as I wrap my arm around her waist. “You’re staring at them again,” she teases, nudging me in the ribs.

“I can’t help it,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “Look at them.”

Wynter’s gaze follows mine to the boys, who are now untangling lights in a wild mess of cords and laughter. Jamie is wearing his Santa hat, tilted sideways, while Noah is attempting to string popcorn garland without eating half of it first. Evan has blinking reindeer antlers on his head, while Riley is decked out in suspenders and a bright red bow tie.

“They’re perfect, aren’t they?” Wynter whispers.

“They are.” I nod my throat tight with emotion. “They’re ours.”

It’s been one year since that magical night at the library when I got down on one knee in front of the entire town and asked Wynter to marry me. A lot has changed since then. We’re not just Drake and Wynter anymore. We’re the Hudson family—officially, legally, and most importantly, for always.

The adoption papers came through two months ago, and I’ve never felt prouder in my life than when we stood before the judge with those four boys by our side. They weren’t just foster kids anymore—they were ours.

And this Christmas? This is the first of many to come.

“You know,” Wynter says softly, resting her head on my shoulder, “I used to think Christmas couldn’t get any more magical. But this…” She gestures to the boys, to the tree, to the lights that are starting to twinkle all around the room. “This is better than anything I ever dreamed.”

I squeeze her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re my magic, sunshine. You’ve given me all of this.”

We stand there for a moment, watching our boys, soaking in the sound of their giggles and the sight of our home—filled with love and family. Wynter changed all of that. She changed everything.

“Hey, Dad!” Evan calls out from across the room, holding up the angel for the top of the tree. “Can you help me put this up? I can’t reach!”

“Coming, buddy.” I chuckle, kissing Wynter again before heading over to help Evan with the tree topper.

As I lift him up onto my shoulders, his little arms stretching toward the top of the tree, I catch Wynter’s eye. She’s standing by the fireplace, watching us with a glow surrounding her face, her hand resting protectively over her stomach.

A secret smile plays on her lips—one we’ve shared for the last few months but haven’t told the boys yet.

Because next Christmas? There’ll be one more Hudson around the tree.