Epilogue

EPILOGUE

December 24, 2027, 4:14 pm

NESSA

“ T ime to wake up, beautiful.”

I smile and snuggle deeper under the blanket, not ready to end this glorious nap yet. We’re in Colorado at Jack’s family cabin up in the mountains—we took the first flight out of Chicago at the crack of dawn this morning, just in case another massive snowstorm tried to ruin our plans.

It’s not my first time spending the holidays with Jack’s family, but it’s the first time in three years that our holidays are overlapping again—this time, with Christmas Eve on the first night of Hanukkah. Only the fifth time in the last one hundred years. His parents invited my parents to join us this year, and the blended families seem to be working out as well as our blended holidays.

“I think the eggnog is ready, and so are the latkes,” Jack says, brushing his lips against mine.

“Mmm.” I slip my arms around his neck and bring his mouth back to mine. My lips part, and when our tongues meet, I feel the same spark I felt after our first kiss.

It’s crazy, thinking back on everything that’s happened in the past three years. Our first few months together were a little tricky—Jack was so busy at the hospital, still finding his footing as a resident. But we made it work, even if it meant sneaking in a quick shower together after his overnight shifts and before I had to rush off to work. On the plus side, it forced us to slow things down, to build a solid foundation from the beginning.

A year after we started dating, both my roommates moved out—Amanda with her fiancé and Julie, into a high-rise with an in-unit washer/dryer and a pool—so Jack moved in. That made it even easier for us to support each other—I helped him through the rest of his residency, and he supported me through an unexpected job layoff. Jack graduated last summer (he was voted Resident of the Year, no surprise to me), and I found a position at a new agency I love. And a few months ago, Jack landed his first “real job” as an attending at a nearby hospital and we moved into a much nicer apartment in Lincoln Park.

And to think, none of it would’ve happened without that snowstorm.

“I’m so glad the power went out and you got stranded in Chicago that Christmas,” I say, snuggling against him.

He chuckles, kissing my forehead. “Me, too. Though I’m sorry I even considered leaving you—I’ll never forget how awful I felt when I came back and saw that you’d been crying.”

“I’m actually glad you left.”

Jack huffs, surprised. “What?”

I roll over, propping myself up on my elbow so I can look at him. “Sometimes staying is the path of least resistance; it’s a passive choice. But leaving and coming back? That was an active choice.”

Jack rests his hand on my hip, drawing slow circles with his thumb as he pulls me closer. “I will always choose you. Because I love you the most. ”

“No way,” I tease, grinning. This is my favorite argument of ours. “I love you the most.”

His eyes sparkle, and without warning, he rolls on top of me, pinning me against the mattress. I laugh, squirming beneath him.

“Sorry, no,” he says, dead serious. “I love you more than anyone has ever loved any other person in the entire history of the universe and that’s an actual fact—don’t argue with me; I have citations.”

My heart swells as I look up at him. I can see all the love in his eyes, all the work we’ve put into building what we have together—and everything I’m looking forward to in the future.

“Fine,” I whisper, surrendering. “You win.”

Then he captures my mouth in a deep kiss and quickly makes me forget that we’re supposed to be joining our families soon.

“JACKY!” His mom’s voice breaks through our perfect little bubble, and I groan. “THE LAT-KEYS ARE GETTING COLD!”

Jack smiles, giving me another quick kiss before folding the comforter back. “We can’t have cold latkes. And by the way—it looks like my mom is a sour cream goy.”

“No,” I gasp, shaking my head in mock disappointment. “And your dad?”

“Applesauce.” He grabs my hand and leads me down the hall.

Downstairs, the living room is the best kind of chaos. My heart swells as I take it all in, the fire roaring in the fireplace, and the sound of laughter and Christmas music filling the air. My dad is on the couch, next to Jack’s sister Nic, her husband Eddie, and her two kids—10-year-old Gabrielle and six-year-old Sammy. The kids’ heads are bent in concentration as they take turns trying to spin the dreidel.

“Auntie Nessa!” Gabrielle shouts. “I got a Gimmel!”

Jack catches my eye and grins—neither of us can look at a dreidel without remembering what our first game led to— and I swallow a laugh. “Good job, bud!”

“Come play!”

“Later,” Jack’s mom says, popping her head out of the kitchen. “Latkes are ready, and then we have to light the candles.”

“Birthday candles?” Sammy says.

Gabrielle shakes her head at him. “No, Hanukkah candles, dummy.”

Sammy’s lower lip starts to quiver, but Unca-Jack swoops him up and carries him to the kitchen, saving the day. “Let’s see what kind of goy you are…”

The latkes are delicious—our moms cooked them together using real Idaho potatoes. Not a frozen spud in sight.

Once the latke appetizers have been devoured and washed down with eggnog, it’s time to light the candles. I offered to bring my menorah with us, but Jack’s mom wanted to have one to keep here for future holidays.

I liked the idea of that, spending future holidays here with Jack and his family, the lights on their Christmas tree and the candles on the menorah shining bright in their window. Before the little kids go to bed, we’ll light Jack’s mom’s Advent wreath and set out cookies for Santa. And then maybe Jack and I will play a little strip dreidel on our own.

But first, Hanukkah. With Jack’s family and my family gathered around me, I light the shamash. My parents and I say the blessing, and Jack’s family repeats each phrase after us. Everyone but Sammy, who is singing the Happy Birthday song.

We invite Jack’s mom to light the candles, and she looks deeply honored as she takes the shamash from my hand and uses it to light the first night’s candle.

“Now, let’s eat!” Eddie says, corralling the kids into the dining room. The others follow, leaving Jack and I alone.

“Happy Hanukkah,” he says, giving me a kiss and handing me a wrapped box the size of an orange.

“What’s this?” We agreed to open presents with everyone tomorrow on Christmas morning and saved a few for the last nights of Hanukkah back home.

“It’s a Hanukkah present.” There’s a nervous glint in his eyes. “Open it.”

“Jack…”

“Let’s sit.”

I follow him toward the couch, my stomach flipping with apprehension and anticipation. “What did you do?” I ask as I untie the elaborate ribbons—blue and white and red and green. I open the top of the box and laugh—it’s filled with Hershey's kisses.

“Almost exactly what I wanted,” I say, echoing his words from long ago.

Jack nods at the box. “There’s more.”

Below the first layer of chocolates, I find a bright yellow and green compression sock.

“Look inside,” he says, and I slip my hand inside the sock, all the way down to the toes, where my fingers touch something cool and smooth.

A ring.

My breath catches as I pull it out, and I look up to see Jack, down on bended knee and gazing up at me, his blue eyes shining.

“Some might say it took an act of nature to bring us together,” he says, his voice low and steady. “But if you ask me, it was a miracle. Nessa, when we met, I was at the lowest point in my life, wondering if I was on the wrong path—but meeting you changed all that.”

Tears fill my eyes as I slip off the couch and kneel across from him.

“You showed me that what I have to offer is enough,” he continues. “You taught me that even in the toughest moments, there’s always hope.” He clears his throat, his own eyes shimmering. “You’re my light in the darkness. My miracle. And I don’t want to face a day without you by my side. Will you choose me, for the rest of our lives?”

“Always and forever,” I say, and he slips the ring on my finger before pulling me into a kiss.

“She said yes!” Nic shouts, and we’re suddenly surrounded by our family, laughter and cheers filling the room. I hold out my hand, letting everyone see the ring. The diamond shines as brightly as the menorah, casting rainbows across the room.

I look at Jack, at our families celebrating around us, and I feel like I’m getting a glimpse of our future. Our families getting closer, our traditions intertwining. Our own family growing as we add a baby or two of our own; the noise and the chaos and love growing every year. And I realize that this is the real miracle: not the grand gestures or perfect gifts. It’s in the quiet, imperfect, everyday choices—the decision to stay, to hope, to love. It’s in knowing that even when everything feels uncertain, we’ll keep choosing each other. That’s what keeps the light alive.

Want a sneak peek at the next romance from Ali Brady? Keep reading for a preview of Battle of the Bookstores (coming 6/3/25 from Berkley/Penguin Random House) and an interview with the author.