Page 70 of Stuffed

Epilogue

TESSA-IN THE FUTURE…

Ismooth my hands over my dress, taking in the transformed shelter space where our story began. Ten years. Sometimes it feels like yesterday I was hiding behind display cases, stealing glances at Zane. Now I'm watching our children help set up for the anniversary celebration.

Charlotte, every bit her father's daughter, is organizing the other kids into an efficient cleanup crew. At six, she already shows signs of being a natural leader, her clipboard clutched importantly to her chest.

James, gentle soul that he is, sits cross-legged on the floor nearby, somehow having acquired yet another rescue kitten. He's ten now, with Zane's quiet intensity but my softer edges.

"Remember when people said we were crazy?" Ivy appears beside me, watching our families mingle. "Mixing charity with business?"

"Now look." I gesture to the crowded room. Former shelter residents who've become employees, corporate partners who've become advocates, competitors who've become collaborators.

Zane takes the podium, and my heart still skips when he adjusts his tie that is already perfectly in place thanks to me—some habits never change. I join him as he announces ournewest initiative—a nationwide program combining business incubation with social services. Sugar & Spice franchises paired with community centers, Mercer Industries resources supporting local entrepreneurs.

"Because success," I add, our children crowding close, "isn't just about profit margins. It's about people. About possibility. About proving that doing good is good business."

Later, I find myself on our rooftop garden where we were married. The city stretches out below us, dotted with a third Sugar & Spice location, community centers, and the evidence of our shared vision. Zane's arms wrap around me, and I lean back into his warmth.

"Did you ever imagine this?" I ask, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of possibility.

"No, I was too scared to dream this big, but it’s better than anything I could have imagined," he murmurs against my hair.

James calls us up—apparently Charlotte has organized an impromptu baking competition among the guests. I laugh, watching our daughter instruct everyone with the same authority her father uses in board meetings.

"Ready to judge some potentially inedible creations?" Zane grins.

"Wouldn’t be the first time." I lean into him. "We need to have Ivy teach her some skills asap."

Looking around at everything we've built—our family, our businesses, our purpose—I feel overwhelmed with gratitude. That teenage girl who used to watch Zane from behind her pom-poms never could have imagined this.

Never could have dreamed that seeing past his walls would lead to this beautiful life. Never could have known that believing in possibility would create such reality.

But standing here now, watching my husband help our son tend to his latest rescue kitten while our daughter conducts her baking competition with CEO-level precision, I know.

Extended Epilogue

ZANE-IN THE FUTURE…

The fire crackles in our living room as I watch Tessa curl deeper into my side, wineglass in hand. Across from us, Asher and Ivy are similarly entwined on our oversized armchair, looking as in love as they did fifteen years ago.

"Remember when you thought I was using your brother for his investment?" Ivy teases me, making Tessa laugh against my chest.

"In my defense, I was an idiot back then." I kiss Tessa's temple. "About a lot of things."

"Some things never change," Asher quips, earning a playful swat from Ivy.

Luna, our rescue calico, purrs between Tessa and me, while her two kittens—now fully grown—chase each other through the room. One is orange like Meatball, the other one dark like Espresso. When we lost Espresso two years ago, it nearly broke us all. But then our son James found Luna, pregnant and alone, and somehow our family felt complete again.

"Dad!" Charlotte, our ten-year-old whirlwind, bounds down the stairs. "Can we have hot chocolate?"

"Only if you make enough for everyone," Tessa tells her. She grins—her mother's smile, everyone says—and heads to the kitchen.

"She's got your organizational skills," Asher says. "Remember how you used to categorize everything, even as kids?"

"Like that stray cat I hid in my room," I recall fondly. "Had a whole filing system for her toys."

"Until Dad found out," Asher reminds me. "Good thing Mom was on your side."

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