Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
He just laughs and pulls me closer. “I want your beautiful chaos in my life, baby. With you here, it won't just be a house, it will be a home.”
I shake my head in disbelief but can't hide the smile on my face. I nod and say those four small words that crack open my heart: “I love you, Fox.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “You could have walked away from us earlier, but you stayed with a grumpy old mechanic.”
Tears of joy form in my eyes as I push them away and nod again. “My grumpy old caveman mechanic.” I grin, my heart feeling whole again.
“I love you with every breath in me...even if you are a roommate from hell. Nothing about you could push me away. You’re mine. Forever.”
Second Epilogue
Fox–one year later
The loft smells like sawdust and varnish, a scent that clings to the air even as the windows let in the crisp bite of autumn. The Phantom River hums in the distance, its steady rhythm blending with the low crackle of the wood-burning stove. I’ve been pacing the workshop for the past hour, glancing between the table I just finished and the loft’s front door, waiting for Amelia to come home.
I run a hand over the smooth surface of the table, the wood warm and rich under my palm. It’s not perfect—nothing I make ever is—but there’s something about this one that feels different. Maybe it’s the way the grain caught the light when I sanded it down, or the way the joints fit together tighter than any piece I’ve built before. Or maybe it’s because I made it for her.
For us.
The door creaks open, and her laugh carries through the space before she even steps inside. “Fox, you wouldn’t believe the size of the pumpkins at—” Her words cut off when she sees me standing beside the table. Her eyes widen, soft and warm as they lock onto the centerpiece of the room. “What’s this?”
I shove my hands in my pockets, suddenly feeling too big for the space. “It’s a table,” I mutter, the gruffness in my voice betraying the nerves twisting in my gut. “Figured we needed one that wasn’t an old workbench.”
Her fingers trail over the edge of the table, tracing the grooves in the wood. “You made this?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “It’s just some old timber I had lying around. Nothing fancy.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, and the way her lips curve sends heat rolling through me. “It’s beautiful, Fox.”
The weight in my chest lifts, just a little. “Yeah, well, you needed somewhere decent to sit. With the baby coming and all.”
Her hand drops to her swollen belly, and the glow on her face shifts into something softer, more intimate. “You made this for our family.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”
She closes the distance between us, her bare feet padding across the hardwood. Her hands find my chest, her touch light but steady. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “This means everything to me.”
My hands settle on her hips, instinctive, like they belong there. “You mean everything to me.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and raw, but before I can second-guess them, she pulls me down into a kiss that steals my breath. It’s slow and deep, her lips soft and insistent against mine. My fingers dig into her waist, her warmth grounding me, tethering me to this moment.
When she pulls back, her cheeks are flushed, and her smile is teasing. “You’re not so bad at this romantic stuff, you know.”
I snort, my hand sliding to the small of her back. “Don’t get used to it.”
Her laughter bubbles up, but it cuts off with a sudden gasp. Her eyes go wide, and her hand flies to her belly.
“Amelia?” My voice sharpens, panic flaring as I tighten my grip on her. “What’s wrong?”
Her lips part, and for a second, she doesn’t speak. Then she laughs—a soft, incredulous sound. “Fox... my water just broke.”
I stare at her, uncomprehending. “What?”
“My water broke,” she says again, her voice pitched higher, her words rushing out. “The baby’s coming.”
A beat passes, and then I spring into action. “Right. Okay. We need—uh—your bag. Do we have a bag?”
She clutches my arm, her fingers digging in. “Fox, calm down. We have time.”
“Calm down? You just told me you’re about to have a baby, and you want me to calm down?” My voice comes out louder than I intended, and she winces.
“Okay, first of all, volume,” she says, her tone laced with exasperation. “Second, we’re not having the baby this second. I need to call Dr. Morgan and let her know we’re on the way to the clinic.”
I nod, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “Right. Call the doctor. Got it.”
She pulls her phone from her pocket, dialing with steady fingers while I grab the go-bag we packed weeks ago. I’ve always prided myself on being prepared, but now, with the reality of it crashing down, I feel like a damn amateur.