One Little Chance (Sweet River)

Epilogue

CHRISTMAS MORNING, EIGHT YEARS (AND THREE KIDS AND TWO DOGS) LATER

“ M OM! DAD! SANTA LEFT ME A BIKE!” A little six-year-old voice shouted from downstairs.

I yawned sleepily and turned into Jordan’s chest.

“It’s still dark out,” Jordan mumbled. “How can he already be awake, at,” he shot a glance at the clock on our nightstand, “five-thirty a.m.”

“That’s even after we caught him sneaking downstairs to try and catch Santa at eleven.” I giggled into his chest. “Hopefully, Mikey doesn’t wake up Hannah.”

“Mommy?” Our four-year-old girl stood in our doorway. “Is it Christmas yet?”

“Yeah, baby girl, it’s Christmas morning!” Jordan said, opening his arms up to Hannah as she ran and jumped into his arms. She snuggled into his chest.

We heard the thud of Mikey’s feet running up the stairs. “Be careful, Mikey,” I called out.

Mikey ran into our bedroom with a stocking in his hands. “Guys, come on, you’ve got to see what Santa left—and he ate all the cookies. Every one of ’em!”

I pulled myself up onto my elbows. “I bet he worked up an appetite carrying around your big boy bike.”

Mikey sighed happily. “It is big.”

“We’ve got to get out on it today, huh?” Jordan said after giving Hannah a kiss on her curly head.

Hannah crawled across the bed toward me. “Does Baby Brother know it’s Christmas, Mommy?”

“I don’t know.” I looked down at my big pregnant belly poking out over the ivory duvet. “Should we tell him?”

Hannah placed a hand on either side of my belly. Her messy chestnut curls fell over her face. “Merry Christmas, Baby Brother! Hope you get to be here soon. You’ll love Christmas!”

I swept Hannah up into my arms, wrapping her little body over my stomach and giving her a kiss. “He can’t wait to meet his big sister.”

“And brother!” Mikey added from his spot by the foot of the bed.

Jordan caught my eye, sneaking his hand over to mine and giving it a squeeze.

The four—and a half—of us scrambled down the stairs. The kids poured out their stockings while Jordan poured us mugs of coffee. I nestled into the couch by the twinkling Christmas tree, remembering standing in this very living room when it was empty of everything except memories taped onto the walls and Jordan down on one knee.

Over the years, these walls have seen it all.

How Jordan carried me into the living room in my wedding dress and kissed me breathless on the floor. How we painted each room and refinished the floors that spring.

Or the hours I labored with Hannah, pacing the living room floors in circles.

Mikey took his first steps on these floors.

Our first family photos were framed and hanging on the walls in the spot where Jordan had hung up our camp photos the night he proposed to me.

I’d known eight years ago that I couldn’t wait to start this life with Jordan, not even a few months. I wanted it all with him and as soon as possible. I watched my kids playing with their Christmas gifts in front of the tree, and Jordan carrying the coffee over to me and thought, This was what I couldn’t wait to begin. I’d take as much of this life with this man as I could get.

Jordan handed me the steaming mug, and said “Merry Christmas, Rogers,” planting a kiss on my forehead.

Our baby boy gave a swift kick, and I quickly placed a hand on my stomach. “Guys, he’s kicking! I think he wants to say Merry Christmas!”