Epilogue

Winnie

Several Months Later

“I t’s time for turkeys, you turkeys!” Jack shouts.

While no one else laughs, I do.

“Thank you for the pity giggle, Winifred,” he says, pulling me into his big, strong arms for a deeply satisfying kiss.

“Aww, it wasn’t out of pity. And anytime, Jack-of-all-trades,” I say. “I love you, baby.”

“Mmm, not as much as I love you.”

Of course, Diesel takes the sweetness out of the moment by giving my ass a ridiculously hard squeeze as he passes us by. I squeal in protest but I’ve found that I like it when he occasionally digs those fingertips in just enough to leave a mark. “Happy Thanksgiving, Peach.”

As always, Thanksgiving dinner is set up buffet-style so everyone can fill up their plates before heading to the table. But what’s different is that for the first time since the boys gifted me my cottage in Whispering Glen, we’re celebrating the holiday in Smithville, not there. We’re celebrating the holiday at home.

“What a feast,” Cruz remarks.

“Yeah, I kind of went overboard this year, but–”

“Oh, honey, baby, darlin’, I wasn’t talking about the food, I was talking about the cook.” He squeezes both of my shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of my neck.

“Could one of you guys run across the street and tell your Mom and Popsy we’re ready for them, that would be great,” I say.

“I got it, Pooh,” Gavin volunteers.

As he heads out, I double check everything.

Sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese, dressing, homemade cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, two turkeys (one fried), a ham, brussel sprouts, cornbread, dinner rolls, five pies…

“The only thing we’re missing is Max and Mason,” I remark.

1 Girl & Her Favorite Hammer: Renovations & Romance was such a hit, Max and Mason were immediately offered another show. Nothing to do with dating this time. Max & Mason Make It Work is strictly about swooping in and fixing up a family’s home on a shoestring budget… while shirtless, of course. While they’ve been away filming for the last month, the three of us have become experts in the art of phone sex and x-rated video chats. I think of last night, when Max told me exactly how he wanted me to touch myself and made me make myself come several times. Then he turned me over to Mason whose dirty talk reached all new levels of panty-melting hotness. Unfortunately, they won’t be back until Christmas.

Then I glance around. “And Axel. Where’s Axel?”

I’ve been so busy I haven’t realized he hasn’t been around for a couple of hours.

“He was picking us up from the airport, princess,” a voice I know all too well says and I swear I get chills as I spin around and see Max standing in the doorway to the kitchen. I run to him and he lifts me off my feet, giving me a kiss to make up for four weeks of missed kisses. Then he puts me down and steps aside so I can get the same treatment from Mason.

“How’s my favorite cupcake?” he asks as I breathe in the sandalwood scent of him.

“Pissed!” I swat at him. “You weasels made me think you weren’t going to be here!”

“Only because we know you love surprises,” Axel says.

Theo pulls me away from the others. “Speaking of surprises, I was emptying the trash,” he whispers. “And I happened to see a positive preg–”

“Shh,” I place my finger to my lips but it doesn’t hide my smile. With all the sex, all the condomless sex, with all my virile boys, one of their supersperm was bound to break through the barrier of my birth control.

“Hey,” Max calls, coming over to us and tugging me back, towards him, away from Theo, who gives me a grin and a wink. “Ma isn’t here yet, is she? I need to see that tat in person, Win. ”

I turn around and lift up the back of my shirt. I jump, getting insta-shivers as he runs his fingers along the 10 hammers all in a row I’ve had tattooed on the small of my back.

“Well, that’s sexy as fuck,” Mason says.

Max pulls me in for another quick cuddle. “Room for both of us in your bed tonight?” his whisper is low and husky and I nod but my clit is practically shouting YES! YES! YES!

“The execs loved the demo!” Gunnar bursts into the kitchen. He’s referring to the five song EP he and Diesel recorded at a local studio. He beelines towards Diesel, tackling him. “We’re making an album, you douchecanoe!”

“Oh my god! Congratulations!” I race over to them and get swept into the bro-hug. We’re jumping up and down and screaming like idiots when Popsy and Anna come in. Gavin is carrying Melody.

“I’ve never been greeted with such enthusiasm,” Popsy jokes.

“I left Monkey Monkey,” Melody says.

“Oh, no,” Anna, who has gone straight to Max and Mason to give them welcome home hugs, says.

“I’ll go get him,” I volunteer.

“No way,” Jack shakes his head, “You’ve done enough. You need to set down and let us–”

“I don’t mind,” I say. “Really.”

I like going to the house that used to be Gram’s and my father’s now.

As I walk across the street, I hear no voices. It’s quiet and peaceful and still .

No, we didn’t move into the reno house, as we told the world on television. If the plan had just been for me and Leo, yeah, that would’ve worked. But the house is way too small for all eleven of us and I’m not living anywhere without all of my boys.

But, serendipitously, when Anna and Popsy returned from their 40th anniversary trip, they broke the news to the boys and me that they were planning on selling the Hammer house. The ginormous Victorian, which used to be a bed-and-breakfast–the only house big enough to raise their brood of sons in and give everyone their own room–has been simply too much for them and now that everyone is grown, they’ve wanted to downsize for a while.

But their plans to move out of the neighborhood and into a townhome were dashed when they saw the finished product of Gram’s house after our renovation. Anna fell instantly in love… especially after she saw the treehouse and my former room, perfect for a little girl.

I run in and grab Monkey Monkey. They haven’t formally adopted four-year-old Melody yet, but they’re fostering her and I don’t see any other outcome.

They’d questioned whether or not they were too old to start over with another child that needs a home filled with stability and love, but when we’d told them they’d have all of us, right across the street, to help out… it was a no-brainer. Yeah, obviously we weren’t going to let the Hammer house go on the market. It’s home.

As for my cottage, I did give that away, to a fan, a young woman much like myself who grew up in a house where she wasn’t valued or taught to love herself, who needed to get out on her own, have a fresh start, have the oasis the boys gave me. I don’t need it any more.

I pause on the porch to straighten the pillows on the swing–Jack’s surprise for me–and then start back across the street.

Leo pokes his head out the front door and yells, “Come on, Winnie Hammer, love, we can’t start without you!”

No–we’re not married. As much as there have been many a joke about how the world is not yet ready for 1 Bride, 10 Grooms, I don’t think the world is quite ready for that televised wedding. Truth is, I don’t know what the future looks like for us. Except there will be lots of honesty, lots of sex, and lots and lots of love.

But I did legally change my last name from Wainwright, my father’s surname I was born with, to Hammer, the family I found and will always be a part of.

The End