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“What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m pregnant,” I say.

His eyes widen and then soften.

“You’re pregnant,” he echoes. The way his voice changes with wonder softening every word makes my breath catch. “Our baby?”

I nod, already bracing for him to bolt. To back away.

My throat tightens. “I didn’t plan this. I don’t expect anything. If this is too much?—”

Sean silences me with his hand on mine.

“Wren.” His voice breaks a little. “Tonight I told you I love you. Why would it change now? Why would I leave? This doesn’t scare me. It makes me more sure. It grounds me. I want this. I want us.”

I shake my head, overwhelmed. “But we’re still figuring us out.”

“We’ll figure it out together.”

He kneels in front of me, hands cradling mine.

“I want you. I want Eric. I want this baby. I want a life that doesn’t end when the job does.”

“I love you,” I whisper. “I didn’t expect any of this but I love you. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I was afraid.”

I sob. He gathers me close. His arms are strong and steady, and he holds me like he’s never letting go.

He murmurs into my hair, “This is real. This is everything.”

In his arms, beneath harsh hospital lights, for the first time in a long, long time, everything feels just right.

EPILOGUE

WREN

The late California sun hangs low in the sky, casting long golden shadows across the lemon orchard. The orchard smells like summer—sweet, tart, alive.

I lean into Eric as we walk along the narrow path between the trees. My dress sways as a breeze rushes past, and I catch his eyes flickering to my six months baby bump.

Up ahead, Eric darts between rows of trees, his laughter breaking through the quiet as he chases after butterflies.

“Careful, buddy!” Sean calls out. “Don’t go too far.”

“I won’t!” Eric shouts over his shoulder, already off chasing another one.

“He listens to you more than he listens to me these days.”

“That’s because I’m still the novelty,” he says with a soft laugh. “Wait until I’m the one nagging him about cleaning his room every day.”

His tone is light, but the casual way he talks about our future still makes my chest ache in the best way. After so many years of people walking out or slipping through my fingers, his steadiness feels like a miracle I don’t fully know how to hold. But I’m learning.

We reach a small clearing where a wooden bench rests beneath the shade of a gnarled lemon tree. I remember the real estate agent saying this tree is over fifty years old. When Sean asked for my opinion in buying the property, I told him everything about the house calls to me.

“Want to sit for a minute?” Sean asks, noticing my breath catching.

I nod and lower myself onto the bench. I expect him to sit beside me, but instead, he stays standing. He steps in front of me, and that’s when I notice the shift. Something’s coming.

“I love this view,” I say, looking out toward the hills rolling toward the ocean. “This house is breathtaking. I can’t believe it’s yours now.”