Page 104 of Sugar Coated Secrets

Epilogue

About a year later

Christmas decorations shower every inch of the estate. The inn side has a traditional theme of red and green, but Everleigh chose pastels for her side of the house. I don’t know which I like better.

My and Easton’s tree is fifty shades of pink in honor of our baby girl’s first Christmas—celebrated from the womb. It was his idea. He didn’t want to wait until next year. He’s so excited to be a dad it blows me away. He continues to surprise and impress me around every turn. How he ever thought he couldn’t commit is beyond me. The man is a natural at being a boyfriend and now my fiancé.

His mom walks over with a glass of bubbly liquid. I can’t believe she’s serving me. It’s a Christmas party, Daire and Everleigh have it every year for the farm employees. Servers galore walk the place, but Mrs. Livingston insisted on getting me this herself.

“One glass of sparkling apple cider.” She hands it to me and sits on the chair next to mine.

I’m on bedrest. At eight months, I pulled muscles in my back and was ordered to stay off my feet until the baby is born just after the New Year. Could be the New Year, though, if she comes early. “How do you feel? Are you comfortable enough?”

I’m propped up on a huge, wingback chair with pillows surrounding me, my feet on an ottoman, and nestled near the roaring fire. I’m as snug as can be.

“I feel great, thank you.”

She sits on the couch beside me. “I’ve been told Easton is carrying you up the stairs in the house.”

The entire farm knows, it seems.

I refrain from rolling my eyes because this is his mother, and I don’t want to seem disrespectful. “I told him I’m fine living on the couch on the first floor, but he’s a stubborn man.”

“That he is.” She sips Champagne from a tall skinny flute. “I believe he’s stubborn for all the right reasons now.” She smiles warmly. “I have you to thank for that.”

“I didn’t do anything. He’s done this himself. I’m as shocked as anyone by his transformation. Did he send you a picture of the Christmas tree?”

“So much pink.” She rolls her eyes.

I almost fall out of my chair. Easton’s proper, classic, pearl-wearing mother rolled her eyes. That’s a moment I’ll never forget.

“I always thought he was born to have fun. I was happy for the carefree life he lived, but I see now he’s even happier settled.” She rests her hand on my knee. “We—me, Daire, and his father—are elated that he found such contentment in you. I think he’ll make an amazing father.”

“I know he will. He’s so protective and caring. He’ll dote, I have no doubt, and our daughter will be a daddy’s girl.”

The thought of my child having a father who will cherish every precious moment of her life is a dream I never knew I wanted. Easton has changed me, too. He’s shown me that if you have faith in someone, they can prove to be the best gift you’ve ever received. But you have to be willing to take the risk, like Everleigh said, and believe it will work out.

Easton and I did that with each other. We chose to have faith in us, and our love and the most beautiful relationship blossomed as a result. And a baby.

I never could have foreseen this for our future. A year ago, we were on different journeys.

I rub my huge belly. I swear it doubles in size each week. But I heard that’s common during your last month.

Everleigh walks over with Daire Evans Miles Livingston the IV. Miles is after her grandfather. It is the sweetest contribution to his memory.

Apart from a head of black hair like his mom, Daire is the image of his dad. The boy will be a heartbreaker like every other Livingston son.

He arches his back as if to escape her arms as soon as she sits on the couch. “Na, Na, Na, Na.” He chants his version of Nana and reaches for his Mrs. Livingston.

Her face brightens in a way only baby Daire can bring out in her. I hope our little girl, Hayley—Hayleycakes according to Easton—has the same effect.

“Gentle,” Everleigh says to baby Daire as he mauls his nana’s face with his little hands.

She giggles. “It’s okay. Daire used to do the same thing. Isn’t that right, my beautiful grandbaby,” she coos.

Something else I never thought I’d see. I guess she’s not as prim and proper as I’d always believed. I need to stop being intimidated by her.

“Hey, sweetcakes.” Easton knees beside me and kisses my belly. “How are my two favorite girls doing?”

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