11. Epilogue

Nine Months Later

I lean back on the couch and smile at Sig, who's duckied out on the living room floor, surrounded by building blocks.

The night Ada returned from her cruise, he'd shifted in front of Noah and the twins for the first time. And received the sort of instant acceptance that only kids can give. Then he shifted in front of their nana, and let's just say, she took it much better than I did.

It's been almost nine months since that day, and we've visited Sig's home of Shifter Bay twice, but the kids still get excited every time he shifts. And, luckily for them, Sig loves spending time in rubber duckie form.

Noah scoops Duckie Sig up and moves him toward the castle he and his sisters have just built. "He doesn't fit."

Lisa scowls at the hole in one of the walls. "Told you the door's too small. Didn't I say so, Rachel?"

"You did," I agree as I idly tap my fingers on the parenting book that I'm decidedly not reading. It's hard to focus with three kids around, a baby kicking my ribs, and a book drier than a slice of burned toast—which I haven't had the misfortune of eating since Sig took over breakfast.

I smile.

Because book or no book, I'm going to be a good guardian… and a good mom to the little boy we've got on the way. I believe it more and more with each passing day, and I know that with Sig by my side, I can't fail. He's a supportive husband, an amazing guardian, and I know he's going to be a wonderful dad. To all our kids, once the adoption goes through.

Plus, it doesn't hurt that he knows exactly what he's doing in the bedroom… and in the hot tub.

Even nine months after meeting him, I marvel at the fact that this is my life. I've gone from struggling at adulting, to marrying a man who surpasses all of my dreams, with three kids and a bundle of joy on the way.

I glance down at my left ring finger, where the proof sits. A wave-shaped band adorned with diamonds that fit right over Janey's ring, with a diamond in the middle that looks like it's being lifted by a wave.

After jumping through some hoops, we were able to hire a contractor to combine Sig's and Ada's house into one, complete with a backyard pool, a hot tub, and enough bedrooms for all the kids we plan to have.

I even got the perfect remote job—one that lets me work from a poolside duck or the comfort of home once our newest family member arrives. I love the work, and the Rubber Duckie World brings in so much revenue, I have the freedom to quit whenever I want.

"See, even Rachel agrees." Lisa snaps me out of my thoughts, though I have no recollection of what I just agreed to. "This castle was a waste of time."

"Wait, I didn't—" I start, but Noah interrupts.

"It's not fair!" he cries. "Alien duckie fits through the door. I checked."

And I wish I'd actually read the parenting book propped up on my belly, so I'd know the right thing to say. Or that Sig could talk in duckie form, so he could say it for me.

I'm still at a loss when Anna picks up princess duckie and sets her next to the much larger Duckie Sig. "Toy duckies are smaller than shifter duckies, Noah. See?"

He pouts. "I know that."

Lisa crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Whatever. Let's do something else."

She reminds me so much of her mom. All three kids do. I can almost picture Janey sitting next to them, glaring at the castle right along with them.

"You know…" I say thoughtfully. "Your mom was in a similar situation once."

They forget all about the castle and spin around to face me.

"She was?" Anna asks softly.

I nod. "She'd been working on an essay that was due the next day. A really important essay. It was worth half her grade." I'm making up that last part, though I remember how much she was freaking out, so maybe it actually was worth fifty percent. "She was almost finished when the power went out."

Anna gasps. "Was it really dark?"

Noah's eyes widen. "Was Mom scared?"

I shake my head. "Not the least bit."

"Mom was super brave," Lisa announces.

"She was." I smile. "And the power came back a few minutes later. But your mom's entire essay was gone."

"Gone?" Lisa gasps.

"All of it?" Anna asks in a small voice.

Even Noah seems invested, and he's definitely not old enough to understand the importance of college essays. He just loves stories about his mom. All three kids do. Heck, they'd probably be just as enraptured by a story about the time Janey spilled coffee on her shirt.

"Your mom didn't give up," I tell them. "She rewrote the entire essay, from scratch."

They stare at me, wide-eyed, waiting.

"And your dad helped, too." It had been right after they started dating, and proof she'd finally met the one. "Every few hours, he would drop by with little gifts."

Noah perks up. "What kind of gifts?"

"Things to help her stay motivated so she could finish that essay. A rose. A poem. A chocolate bar. A bowl of ramen." I chuckle. "She needed sustenance."

"Can we have chocolate?" Noah asks.

Lisa perks up. "We need sustenance, too."

I shake my head. "Not until after dinner."

Noah pouts. "No fair."

"You'd spoil your appetite," Anna tells her siblings.

I smile gratefully at her. "There's a reason I told you kids this story." And, note to self, do not tell stories that involve chocolate. "That essay was just like your castle. You're going to have to redo it. But that's okay. I know you kids are just like your mom. You're dedicated and hard-working, and you never give up!"

They all nod emphatically. Look at me knocking this guardian thing out of the water!

"Did Mom get her paper in on time?" Ana asks.

"I actually can't remember."

"I bet she did," Noah says.

"She definitely did," Lisa says. "Just like we're going to rebuild this castle and make it even better."

"I know you can do it," I tell them, setting aside the parenting book. For now, anyway.

I still miss Janey every day. But the more I talk about her, and the more I share the stories, the less it hurts. Now I can finally smile back at all the wonderful memories we shared. And I can see a part of her in each of her three remarkable kids. Lisa's fiery confidence reminds me of the way Janey would always walk into a room like she owned it. Anna's gentle sweetness is the side Janey saved for those closest to her, and Noah's boundless energy is so like her vibrant spirit.

My heart is full of gratitude for the blessing of having these three kids in my life, each day with them a precious reminder of my best friend.

I wipe away some errant tears—pregnancy really does make you emotional—and listen to the kids debate the best way to rebuild.

They've just agreed to take down the roof when the doorbell rings, and Ada's voice echoes from the kitchen. "Could you get that, Sig? I'm about to take the pie out of the oven."

The only problem is that Sig is in too precarious a position to shift back. If he does, he'll end up on top of the castle, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't built to hold a grown man.

Noah lunges toward him, eyes wide. "He'll crush the castle!"

"Don't shift," Lisa shouts.

Anna jumps to her feet. "We'll get the door," she cries. "I bet it's Reaper. And he might be small enough to fit through the door without a rebuild."

"Good thinking, Sis," Lisa scrambles up after her.

"Oh yeah!" Noah lights up. He drops Sig—who can't get hurt in duckie form—down next to the castle and takes off.

"Wait! Noah, you need to move Sig."

It's like the boy doesn't even hear me.

"Don't shift, I've got this," I tell Sig, then shout, "Girls, grab the stool and check the peephole."

"We will," Lisa yells back. Thank goodness for that.

I push off the couch and waddle toward Sig. "I feel like a duck. And not in a good way."

And there is a good way. Sig's proven that in bed and in the tub, over and over again.

And duck sounds much better than whale, which is a much more accurate description of how I feel… and look. I place my hand on my belly. Any day now, little one. Any day now.

"It's Reaper," Lisa shouts from the foyer, distracting me. "He's got food."

My mouth waters, because Sig's best friend's cooking is so good, it puts cruise ship food to shame. And the ships I've worked on hired some of the best chefs.

"I'll be right there," I call out and stare down at duckie Sig. I'd have to squat down to pick him up, and there's a good chance I'd lose my balance and end up destroying the kids' castle in the process. "I'll just send one of the kids to come grab you."

Sig doesn't reply. He can't, since he's in duckie form.

"I'll be quick," I add as I waddle away. Quick-ish.

The delicious smell of Ada's baking wafts into the hallway from the kitchen, and my mouth waters as I join Reaper and the kids.

"Hi, Reap," Noah cries, throwing his arms around the man, who's struggling to balance two large trays above the boy's head.

I'd offer to take them, but I'm not sure I'd manage, either.

"Careful, Noah," Lisa scolds. "Hi, Reaper. We really need your help."

Anna nods. "Sig's too big, but you'll fit."

Reaper sends me a questioning glance, and I decide to leave him guessing. "Noah, can you please go get Sig?"

"Oh yeah." The little boy takes off.

"Come on in, Reap." I give him a quick side-hug so my belly and his food trays don't clash and gesture at the ottoman. "Why don't you set those down there? They smell delicious."

"I'll be right out, Reaper," Ada calls from the kitchen just as Noah runs back in, carrying Duckie Sig. "I'm just finishing up in here."

"No rush, Ada," he calls back. "I made fried chicken, meatloaf, and mac and cheese." Reaper sniffs the air. "Whatever you've got in the oven smells even better."

"You mean this baby?" I glance down at my belly innocently.

Reaper bursts out laughing and so do the twins. Ada chuckles from the kitchen, and I imagine Sig's laughing too—though silently, since rubber ducks can't laugh.

Noah just looks confused. "It's apple pie," he says proudly. "We helped Nana mix the ingredients."

"You did well, kids," Ada calls out. "Can you three set the table? It's almost time for dinner."

"Coming." Lisa takes off, shouting, "Last one there has to fix the roof."

Her siblings run after her.

"Noah! Bring Sig back!" I shout.

"Oh yeah! Sorry, Sig." He sets the rubber duckie in the foyer and then races off after his sisters. "No fair!"

And I'm grinning, because yes, our house is chaotic, but it's also full of life. And that's what I've been missing all along. All the travel, the cruises, the distractions—none of them could fill the hole that losing my best friend left. But being here, with Sig, her kids, and her mom, is exactly what I needed all along.

Sig shifts back with a huge grin. "How's our little bun doing?" he asks as he moves to my side and places his palm against my belly.

It's such an innocent gesture, but feeling his hands on me, anywhere, makes me want his hands on me, everywhere.

I snuggle into his side, enjoying the warm, strong feel of him. "Our little bun is thinking it's time to be born," I say hopefully.

Ada pops out of the kitchen, a towel in her hands. "It's good to see you, Reaper. Come on in. I'm dying to hear about that neighbor of yours."

Reaper shoots an accusatory glance at Sig. "What have you been telling her, Duckie?"

Sig raises his hands up in surrender. "Hey, it wasn't me. I only told Rachel, and you know I don't keep anything from her."

"Fair enough," Reaper grumbles, his gaze turning to me.

"I may have said something," I tell him. "But only because I know you like her."

Reaper's cheeks flush scarlet. "I do not. She's pregnant with another man's baby."

"A man who's not in the picture."

This time, Reaper bunches his hands into fists. "How does a man leave his woman and child behind?"

"He's no man, that's how," Ada says, and she's absolutely right.

Reaper shrugs. "Maybe they'll get together."

Sig nudges my shoulder lightly, as if to say, I'm not buying his nonchalance, are you? I nudge him back to tell him I am so not.

"Why don't you invite her to dinner anyway?" I suggest.

He scowls. "I don't even know her."

"You could get to know her," Sig says.

Reaper's scowl deepens. "Who says I even like her?"

"You like her," we all chorus. Even the kids, who pop their heads out of the dining room.

"You want to kiss her," Lisa adds in a sing-song voice.

Anna giggles.

Noah makes a gagging sound.

Sig and I exchange a smile.

Ada pats his shoulder. "It's never a good idea to lie to yourself."

"The only reason I mentioned her," Reaper snaps, "is because she's pregnant like Rachel. That's it!"

"Right…" I say.

"We believe you, man," Sig adds. His tone says anything but.

Reaper turns a little red, spins around, and grabs the food trays. "I'll take these to the dining room!"

He storms off, Ada and the kids on his heels, leaving me and Sig in the foyer.

I grin. "We should really stop teasing him, shouldn't we?"

Sig pouts. "But it's so much fun."

I giggle, since I know he truly cares for his friend and is just teasing, and then grimace when the baby kicks.

"Do you need to sit down?" Sig asks softly.

I nod. "I could really use a break from being pregnant. Carry me to the living room?"

And then I shift. Thankfully not into a giant cruise ship, or even a tiny one. I shift into a wave-shaped gold ring with diamonds.

And I marvel at how lucky I am to be here, in this moment, with Sig and our family.

Thank you for reading RUBBER DUCKIE SHIFTER NEXT DOOR. Reaper"s story,