MAGGIE

Christmas Eve

Teeth have been brushed, Elf has been watched, and The Grinch has been read. The girls are tucked into bed and sleeping soundly, and Tyler’s bitten the heads off of the cookies left for Santa Claus. The glass of milk has been drunk and stockings are hung.

We’re ready for Christmas.

Tyler is tucked into my bed—our bed—waiting, I hope, with a treat that can’t be wrapped in a box. I climb from the shower, glancing at the calendar on my phone to make sure I’ve checked off everything I need to do for the inn.

We’ve having a big Christmas bash tomorrow, and it’s been a month of planning. Of preparing menus and treats, decorations and entertainment, party bags and guest lists.

It’s also been a month of toe-curling, spine-tingling nights with Tyler Daniels, and soft-spoken mornings over coffee before the girls join us. Then those little feet patter out of bed and turn the day into a noisy burst of four. A little, unofficial family that came together on Thanksgiving without a hiccup. The girls have adjusted seamlessly—even better than expected.

Tyler’s been busy fixing up the inn, changing out all the washers and driers, repainting rooms in desperate need of an update, hammering, sawing, and generally making a racket. He seems to love it, and I have to admit—I love having him around.

Slipping into a sexy, little red nighty I’d bought especially as a Christmas treat for Tyler, I check off the list on my Google calendar. All is set for tomorrow, I think, exhaling with relief.

Until I spy a tiny little red dot in the corner from two weeks back.

I bite my lip, thinking back, struggling to remember the last time I’d actually had my period. Not since...

I gasp.

Not since before Thanksgiving.

“Holy shit,” I murmur, scrambling under the kitchen sink. I know I have some old pregnancy tests in here—Emily insists on keeping them on hand. I don’t know why since I previously hadn’t had sex for years, but now I’m grateful for her precautions.

Quickly, I take care of business, humming an impatient tune as I set a timer on my phone.

“Margaret?” Tyler calls. “I hope you’re getting naked.”

“Yeah, one second,” I call back, aware I sound less enthused than he hopes. “Almost ready.”

“Everything okay?”

I’m staring at the test, at the little symbol. I double check the box. Triple check. Quadruple check against the stick.

There’s a knock on the door. I struggle to offer an explanation, but I can’t find the words, so instead, I just open the door and stand there—waiting.

“You look incredible.” Tyler’s eyes scan me up and down. “Look, Margaret, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about first. I mean, you look gorgeous, but maybe—”

“Wait.” I stick my hand on his shoulder, not sure if he’s the one trembling, or if it’s me. “I need to talk to you.”

“What’s wrong?”

I swallow. “Tyler, I swear to you—”

“Margaret?” His face turns alarmed as he pulls me to his chest. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I collapse against his chest. “You were right, and I’m so stupid—I’m so sorry, I just wanted you so badly, and I didn’t think—”

“Hey, hey, what are you talking about?”

“You didn’t—you haven’t been using condoms with me.”

“And?”

“And...” I step back, throwing the door wide open so Tyler can see the test on the counter. “I’m pregnant.”

Tyler’s face reacts first with shock, his mouth opening and closing in surprise. He spies the test, then my face, before worry clouds his own.

“I swear I’m on the pill, and I—I guess I missed a few days before you came back because I was upset, but...I thought they’d have kicked back in again. I’m sorry.”

“Thanksgiving?” he asks.

“Probably,” I say with a sullen nod. “I don’t know—”

“That’s incredible!” Tyler’s voice breaks as he clutches me to his chest in a bear hug that nearly cracks my ribs. “Margaret, I’m so—why are you crying? This is amazing news. Unless...do you not want more kids? I guess I always just figured—you love Mila so much, and...”

“I thought you would be upset,” I whisper against his shoulder. “You said you didn’t want to bring another child into the world—”

“—who didn’t have two committed parents,” he finishes. “But I’m committed, and you’re the most wonderful mother I know.”

“Tyler—”

“Wait. I had something I wanted to ask you. Before this news, this happy news,” he says, tripping over his feet as he moves toward the bed. He’s wearing only his boxers, fumbling around under the pillow before he turns to me with a wild expression on his face. “I have had this since I came back to Harp’s Haven.”

“Tyler, you don’t have to—”

“This has nothing to do with you finding out you’re pregnant,” he says, easing himself onto one knee. “I love you, Margaret Marshall. You taught me the meaning of love, and I want to spend the rest of my life exploring it with you.”

His hands shake as he takes mine in his. My feet have crept across the room, one hand resting on my stomach while the other hand sits in his outstretched palm.

“Will you marry me, Margaret?” Tyler asks. “Will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you be the mother of Jess, and Mila, and the rest of our children?”

“Are you sure? Tyler, you don’t have to—”

“I didn’t make this ring appear from nowhere,” Tyler says, a wry grin. “I’ve had it for a while now. I’ve been waiting for the right time, and I was hoping you’d say yes tonight.”

“I love you, Tyler,” I say, tears finally pricking my eyes as I realize what’s happening. “Yes, Tyler, Of course.”

With shaking hands, Tyler slides a beautiful ring onto my finger. Once it’s there, in place—sparkling like the snow outside our window—he stands, brings me to his chest and fastens his lips to mine.

“Come on,” he says, gleeful. “I’m putting pants on, and we’re waking the girls.”

“But, Tyler!” I laugh. “We can wait until morning!”

“Nope.” Tyler’s looking like a child in his excitement, hopping around on one leg as he shoves himself into a pair of sweatpants. “They’re going to be sisters! Big sisters. We’ll be a family, Maggie, this can’t wait.”

I laugh with him as he wraps me in a robe and drags me from the room.

“Santa can’t top this one,” he says. “Though I’d like to see him try.”

“Hey, one second.”

I stop him at the door for one moment, one tender kiss. It lasts long, longer than I expect, leading us to tumble back into bed. By the time we manage to unlock our limbs from one another, giddy and breathless, I pull his face to mine and grin.

“Merry Christmas, Tyler Daniels.”

The End