Page 22

Lincoln's fingers trembled as he flipped through the journal pages, his expression shifting from disbelief to wonder. The golden-brown of his eyes deepened with emotion as he traced the elegant script of his ancestor.

"Chloe... this is incredible. These spells could revolutionize magical text preservation." He looked up, moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. "How did you?—"

"I have another surprise," I interrupted, my heart hammering against my ribs. I reached back into my hidden pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in midnight blue paper with tiny silver stars that actually twinkled.

Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "Two gifts? You're really breaking all our agreements today."

"It's my wedding day. I'm allowed to be unpredictable." My voice came out steadier than I felt. Two years together, and he could still make my stomach flip with nervous anticipation.

He unwrapped the package carefully, preserving the enchanted paper—typical Lincoln, always the preservationist. When he lifted the lid, he froze, staring at the contents.

Inside lay a simple white plastic stick with two very distinct pink lines.

"Is this..." His voice cracked.

I nodded, suddenly unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

"We're having a baby?" Lincoln whispered, his voice filled with awe.

"Around winter solstice, according to Zelda's calculations."

Lincoln's face transformed with such pure joy that my carefully constructed emotional walls—the ones I'd spent a lifetime building—crumbled completely. He pulled me into his arms, lifting me off the ground in a spinning embrace that sent my vintage dress swirling around us.

"Jezfucnuboobles, Lincoln! Put me down before I hurl on your fancy suit!" I laughed through happy tears.

"We're having a baby," he repeated, setting me gently on my feet but keeping his arms firmly around me. "A little witch or warlock."

"Or both. Twins run in my family."

Lincoln's face went comically pale.

Before he could respond, a familiar feathery form burst through the nearby bushes, leaves stuck to his tuxedo.

"SHE TOLD YOU?" Frosty squawked, practically vibrating with excitement. "I've been keeping this secret for THREE WHOLE DAYS. Do you know what that's like for someone with my communication skills?"

"You knew?" Lincoln asked.

"Of course I knew! Who do you think held her hair back during morning sickness? Who's been secretly reading 'What to Expect When You're Expecting a Magical Baby' under the covers at night?"

I watched Lincoln's face cycle through every emotion in the human spectrum—joy, disbelief, terror, back to joy—all in the span of thirty seconds. It was like watching a slideshow of facial expressions set to fast-forward.

"Twins?" he whispered, the color slowly returning to his face. "That's... that's..."

"Twice the diapers, twice the college tuition, twice the magical mishaps," I supplied helpfully.

Lincoln laughed, the rich sound washing over me like warm honey. He knelt down suddenly, placing his hand gently on my stomach. Through the vintage lace of my wedding dress, I felt the warmth of his palm, the slight magical tingle that always accompanied his touch.

"Hello in there, little Sands," he murmured.

"Woolsworth-Sands," I corrected automatically. "I hyphenated, remember?"

"Of course. Hello, little Woolsworth-Sands," he amended, looking up at me with that crooked smile that still made my heart skip. "I'm your dad."

"And I'm your GODROOSTER!" Frosty interjected, puffing out his feathered chest. "I'll teach you everything—martial arts, gourmet cooking, advanced sarcasm techniques?—"

"They'll need to be born first, Frosty," I reminded him, but couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm.

"I've already started knitting tiny booties," Frosty confessed. "And researching the best organic baby food recipes."

Lincoln stood, keeping his hand protectively over my stomach. "Remember when you wouldn't even let me leave a toothbrush at your cottage?"

"I was protecting my independence," I said, leaning into him despite myself.

"And now?"

"Now I'm wondering where we're going to fit a nursery. Or two." I looked around at the twinkling lights of Assjacket town square, at the faces of people who had become family when I'd sworn I didn't need one.

We wandered away from the reception, finding a quiet spot near the edge of town where the magical barrier shimmered almost invisibly against the night sky. Stars scattered across the darkness like spilled glitter—probably Marigold's doing, enhancing the night for our wedding.

Lincoln wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my head. Frosty settled at our feet, uncharacteristically quiet.

"From hermit witch to married mother," I mused. "My twenty-year-old self would be horrified."

"Best town," Lincoln whispered into my hair, echoing the words he'd said to me on our first real date. "Best witch."

THE END