Epilogue

Five Months Later

Bex

I stare down at the baby in my arms, wrapped in a pink blanket, and fast asleep in only a diaper, laying against my bare chest as I rock her in the corner of the hospital room.

Skin-to-skin, the nurse called it. A way to bond with the baby. I didn’t need convincing—this little girl already has me wrapped tightly around her finger. Her heartbeat is steady against mine, and I marvel at how something so small can fill every corner of a space I didn’t even know was empty.

She’s only six hours old, but she’s already taken over my world.

I shift slightly in the rocking chair, careful not to disturb her. She doesn’t even stir, her little body warm against mine, her soft breath rising and falling in perfect rhythm.

It’s hard to imagine something so perfect and innocent came from what happened in the back of a limo.

Everything about her is so tiny—her fingers, toes, the little wisps of dark hair like mine currently hidden under her yellow infant beanie. I’m told that her hair might all fall out and new hair will grow. There’s no saying what part of her will look like me or which parts she’ll take after Rowan. If I had my choice, she’d look just like Rowan. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and that smile—the one that’s been the undoing of me since the moment I first saw it.

God, that smile.

The memory makes me chuckle softly, careful not to wake the baby. For nine months, that smile had me doing things I never thought I’d do. Midnight runs to the grocery store for ice cream and popcorn, assembling cribs and rocking chairs with instructions that might as well have been written in a lost language, and countless foot rubs because “the baby” demanded them.

My daughter—Keira, a soft, weighty bundle in my arms—is sleeping, her little fingers curled into fists. I stroke my thumb across her back, reveling in the fact that I’m her safe place. I feel something within me shift, deep and irrevocable. The small tag around her foot reads Townsend , and the sight of it nearly knocks the wind out of me. It’s a name she’ll carry, a name I’ll make sure means safety, love, and family.

And it’s the name that her mother should be carrying too.

Rowan stirs from her short nap. She needed a break after a long labor, getting the hang of breastfeeding, lactation specialists, and nurses coming in constantly to do their checks on her and Keira.

Her eyes flutter open with that quiet smile that’s always been just for me. How she can find the strength to smile like that, after everything she’s gone through to bring our daughter into this world, is beyond me. I look back down at our little girl, hoping she inherits her mother’s resilience, her fire, her tenderness.

“You’re a natural,” she whispers low to not wake the baby. “She looks like she’s always belonged there, in your arms.”

I meet her gaze, feeling a grin pull at my lips. “I think she always has,” I say, taking in each tiny, perfect feature again.

Rowan shifts on the bed, and I can see a hint of discomfort in her eyes, quickly replaced with a content grin watching us rock back and forth together. I feel a newfound admiration for her.

I’ve always known she was strong, resilient—but to witness the love and grit it took for her to bring our child into this world… I’ll never feel for anyone what I feel for her.

In my pocket, I can feel the square box digging against my thigh, a small weight I’ve carried since after the Stanley Cup win. I’ve waited for the right moment, finding excuse after excuse, too caught up in the whirlwind of Rowan’s new career and me working with Sam, Penelope and Phil to make sure that the transition for Penelope is as smooth as possible before the new season, and my last one, starts up.

Not to mention house shopping in Liverpool remotely with Leo and his wife doing the physical walk through for us. We’ve been busy, but I’ve never considered not asking her. Not since she told me she was pregnant. That was when I knew we were in this life together, for worse or for better, in sickness or in health.

Now, sitting in the room, just the three of us, I knew what I was waiting for— Keira.

With our daughter cradled in my arms, I know this is it. This is the moment.

I glance down at our daughter once more, then carefully hand her back to Rowan. She settles against her mother’s chest, and Rowan lets out a soft, contented sigh, her hand cupping the back of our daughter’s head.

“Rowan…” I begin, feeling my heart pound with anticipation as I reach for the ring in my pocket.

She looks up at me, her eyes tired but happy, and a glint of curiosity. Her eyes dart down to my pocket as I fumble with it.

“I’ve been trying to find the perfect moment,” I say, my voice low. “But something kept telling me to wait. I didn’t know why until now.”

Rowan’s eyes widen, and she lets out a soft, breathy gasp as she sees the unmistakable box in my hand.

“This moment—seeing you here with her, knowing everything we’ve gone through to get here… I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” I sink down to one knee beside her hospital bed, holding up the small velvet box. “Rowan, you and our daughter… you’re my family, my heart. I was empty before you showed up, and I know now that I’ll never be whole without you. Will you do me the honor of spending the rest of your days with me? Will you be my wife?”

She stares at me, her hand flying to her mouth as tears fill her eyes. She glances down at our daughter, then back up at me, her lips parting in a smile that’s equal parts joy and surprise.

“Yes, Bex,” she whispers, and nods, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“It’s time that both of my girls were Townsend’s,” I say, and then I slide the ring onto her finger, a promise that feels as sure as anything I’ve ever known. Rowan reaches for my hand, holding it tight, and I press a kiss to her lips and then a kiss, gently, on our daughter's head.

Together, we sit there in the stillness of the morning, a family in love, stronger than anything I’ve ever known, I know that I’ve found exactly where I’m meant to be.

THE END