Page 81 of Knot My Type

"I'm going with him," she confirms, her voice steady with certainty. "I can consult from anywhere, and honestly, I'm ready for an adventure. But I want to be married first. I want to start this new chapter as his wife."

The timeline is rushed, but I can hear the happiness in her voice, the excitement about this unexpected opportunity. "What do you need from us?"

"Everything," she admits with a laugh. "I know it's crazy short notice, but would you still be willing to host? Maybe the weekend after Thanksgiving?"

I look at the ultrasound photos scattered across the dresser, at the men who are listening to my side of the conversation with interest, and realize that Rebecca's wedding is going to be even more meaningful than we originally planned. Our chosen family, celebrating love and commitment just as we're preparing to expand in the most fundamental way.

"Of course," I tell her. "We'll make it perfect, don't worry."

"Are you sure? I know you're busy with book deadlines and—"

"Rebecca," I interrupt gently. "Family takes care of family, remember? Besides, I have my own news to share."

"What kind of news?"

I take a breath, looking at the three men who are watching me with encouraging smiles. "The kind that means your wedding is going to be extra special because it'll be the last big celebration before we become parents."

The silence on the other end of the line is profound, followed by a shriek that's probably audible three states away.

"You're pregnant?” she practically screams. "ELIANA! You're having a baby!"

"We're having a baby," I correct, laughing at her enthusiasm. "Due in June."

What follows is twenty minutes of excited questioning, congratulations, and the kind of joyful chaos that comes with sharing major life news with your best friend. By the time we hang up, Rebecca has declared herself honorary aunt and appointed herself in charge of baby shower planning, despite the fact that the baby isn't due for eight months.

"She took that well," Rhys observes dryly.

"She's going to be impossible now," I say fondly. "Completely over the top with both the wedding planning and the baby preparation."

"Good," Kael says firmly. "She should be excited. This is exciting."

He's right, of course. Everything about our life right now is exciting—Rebecca's wedding, the baby, the continued success of both my writing career and their business, the steady deepening of the bonds between us. We're building something beautiful here, something that started with a storm and has grown into the kind of love that creates its own weather.

As we settle into bed, the four of us arranging ourselves in the familiar configuration that's become second nature, I think about how much my life has changed in the past two and a half years. The woman who fled her marriage in a panic, who got snowed in with three strangers and thought it was the worst luck in the world, could never have imagined this future.

But maybe that's the point. Maybe the best things in life are the ones we can't imagine, can't plan for, can't control. Maybe sometimes you have to get lost before you can be found, haveto let go of what you thought you wanted to discover what you actually need.

The flutter in my abdomen has become a regular presence now, a gentle reminder of the life growing inside me, the future we're creating one day at a time. In a few months, there will be five of us in this bed—at least until the baby is old enough for their own room. The logistics will be complicated, but we'll figure it out the same way we've figured out everything else.

Together. Always together.

"I love you," I whisper into the darkness, the words encompassing all of them, the baby, the life we've built, the future stretching out ahead of us like a promise.

"We love you too," comes the chorus of responses, voices thick with sleep and satisfaction and the kind of contentment that comes from knowing you're exactly where you belong.

Outside, the first real snowfall of the season has begun, blanketing the mountains in pristine white. But inside our home, wrapped in warmth and love and the certainty of belonging, I've never felt more grateful for a storm that changed everything.

This is how love stories really end, I think as I drift toward sleep. Not with dramatic declarations or perfect moments, but with quiet contentment, steady commitment, and the knowledge that whatever comes next, you won't face it alone. Not with "happily ever after," but with "happily ever during"—the daily choice to keep choosing each other, to keep building something beautiful together, one ordinary, extraordinary day at a time.

The baby flutters again, and I smile in the darkness, already imagining the stories I'll tell them about how their family began. About courage and storms and the kind of love that creates home wherever it lands.

But that's a story for another day. Tonight, I'm content to simply exist in this moment, surrounded by my pack, carryingour future, perfectly complete and perfectly ready for whatever comes next.

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

ELIANA

Five Years Later

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