Dad Bod Secret Santa (Dad Bod Christmas)

Epilogue

“Here you go,” Hank says, handing me a beer and settling into the chair next to me on our front porch.

“Thanks, Sweetie,” I say, smiling as he takes his seat next to me.

This is my favorite time of day. I settle into my chair on the porch and watch the beginning of the sunset paint the sky. It’s our end of day ritual—making time for each other at the end of the day, after work is done, dinner with our girls is over, and we have the space to breathe and spend some one-on-one time together.

Hank looks out at the horizon, his profile outlined by the orange and pink streaks of the sunset. His shoulders are relaxed, but there’s something in the way he shifts slightly in his seat—a subtle tension I can’t quite place.

“That was some dinner,” he says after a moment, his voice low and easy.

I chuckle, and smile. “I think Wendy and Vivian could’ve eaten twice as much if I’d let them. All that running around wore them out.”

Hank leans back, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. “Leo and I could’ve used some of their energy earlier. We’re almost done with the extension, though. Just a few more days, and they’ll have their own rooms.”

I smile, remember how earlier the girls were bouncing with excitement over the prospect of decorating their new spaces. “They’re so excited about decorating. If we’re not careful, they’re going to break the bank.”

“They’ve got it all planned, huh?” He takes a sip of his beer, his gaze never leaving the horizon.

“I’ll give them this—they sure know their minds,” I say, shaking my head fondly. “Oh, something else.”

Hank raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and feigned innocence. “What’d I do?”

“Oh, nothing,” I reply, my tone dry but playful. “Maybe don’t let Jax’s sister take them to Sweet Redemption without a heads-up. Now they’re insisting we get a dog. While you were finishing up with Leo, I got an earful and a half over the merits of having a dog, how they swear they’ll take care of it, and how all families have a dog and so why can’t we?”

His laugh is deep and warm, and despite the mild exasperation I feel about being blindsided about getting a dog, I relax. “Well, I wouldn’t say no,” he says, then takes my hand in his and laces his fingers through mine.

I narrow my eyes at him, though I still smile at him. “You’re no help, you know.”

His grin widens and he leans over to give me a kiss. We sit in silence as the sunset brightens and then as the sky begins to darken. I love our evenings out here on the porch. No matter what happens during the day, talking things over with Hank makes everything in the world feel right.

“Is everything okay?” I ask. All evening, Hank has been glancing at me more often than usual, like there’s something on his mind. There’s a nervous energy beneath his calm exterior.

He looks at me then, really looks, and his smile softens into something quieter, almost wistful. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low. “I’m good.”

Hank sets his glass on the little table between us, the soft clink of glass against wood breaking the stillness. He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and I notice the way his hands clasp together, the knuckles slightly white.

“Let’s go inside,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. His hands tugs at mine, and I let him lead me back into our home. “I have something for you,” he says, giving me a smile that makes my core heat.

I laugh, stepping closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, drawing him in. “Is that how we’re saying it now?” I tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek, the stubble of his beard scratching gently against my lips.

He chuckles, and his hands settle lightly on my waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of my shirt. “No, not that. Something else,” he says, his voice almost nervous. He pulls back just enough to gesture toward the dresser, his gaze following my eyes. “Check your jewelry box.”

I glance over to the dresser where my jewelry box rests, the carved wooden box that Hank made for me for Christmas, and which has become one of my favorite possessions in the world. It’s where I keep my most cherished possessions.

I cross the room, my heart thudding in my chest, and gently lift the lid of the jewelry box. The familiar contents are there: my grandmother’s locket, a few rings, a pair of pearl earrings. But sitting in the center, where nothing was before, is a small velvet box. My breath catches in my throat as I reach for it, my fingers trembling just slightly.

My heart pounds in my chest as I glance back at Hank. He’s watching me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way I’ve never quite seen before.

I pick up the velvet box with shaking hands, opening it slowly. Inside is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen—simple, elegant, and completely perfect. A silver band with a single diamond at its center, understated but radiant. Love floods through me as I take the ring from the box and instantly know that I’ll say yes to Hank. We’ve talked about marriage a couple of times, and we’ve both agreed that we both wanted it, but that we weren’t in a rush.

Before I can say anything, Hank moves toward me, crossing the room quickly. He kneels in front of me, his face tilted up toward mine. He reaches up and takes my hands in his, taking the ring from my hand.

“Maggie,” he begins, his voice rough, thick with emotion. He clears his throat, and pauses before continuing. “I’m not always great with words, but I need you to know how much you mean to me.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine, as if looking for reassurance. “You and Wendy...you’ve brought so much light into my life. You’ve shared your life with Vivian and me, and given me the kind of family that I always wanted. I want to continue building our life together and I want the world to know that you are mine.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears of joy that threaten to spill over.

“I want this—us—to be forever,” he continues, his voice gaining strength, though it’s still filled with the vulnerability I know so well. “I want to build a life with you, raise our girls together, and wake up every day knowing I’m the luckiest man alive.” He takes a deep breath, his thumb gently caressing the back of my hand. “Will you marry me?”

A choked laugh escapes me, and tears sting my eyes. “Yes!” I exclaim, the word carrying all of the deep love I feel for this wonderful man.

Hank’s face lights up, his grin wide as he pushes the ring onto my finger, then gently kisses it. He rises to his feet and pulls me into his arms with a force that leaves me breathless, his lips finding mine in a kiss that is deep and filled with so much passion. I melt into him, feeling the overwhelming certainty that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

When we pull apart, Hank rests his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “I never thought I could feel this way again,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “But with you, Maggie, it feels like everything is finally right. I love you with all my heart.”

I smile, my fingers trailing along the edge of his jaw. “I feel the same,” I reply, my voice soft. “I love you with all my heart, too.”