Rule #12 Don’t Date The Grump Bonus
This is a bonus epilogue for readers of Rule #12: Don’t Date The Grump. It is best read after you’ve finished the entire novel.
Lia
Juniper Falls, three years later…
Afternoon sunlight streams through the hospital blinds, painting warm golden stripes across the blankets. Outside the window, the mountains stand sentinel against a perfect blue sky, but all I can focus on is the tiny bundle in my arms—seven pounds, four ounces of absolute miracle.
“Hello, little one,” I whisper, tracing a finger along a cheek softer than the most delicate pastry. The baby’s eyes flutter at my touch, unfocused but somehow still searching for my face. “Your big sister is going to be here soon.”
As if summoned by my words, I hear familiar voices in the hallway—one deep and steady, one high and excited, barely contained. The door pushes open slowly, and Wade peers in, his expression a mixture of wonder and uncertainty I haven’t seen since our early days.
“Is it okay to come in?” he asks softly, one hand still hidden behind the door.
“Of course,” I say, shifting slightly against the pillows. “We’ve been waiting.”
He steps inside, and behind him—practically vibrating with excitement—is Evie. Her hair is braided in two perfect plaits, tied with blue ribbons that match her “Big Sister” t-shirt. In her arms, she clutches what appears to be a carefully wrapped package.
“Remember what we talked about,” Wade reminds her gently. “Quiet voices and careful movements.”
Evie nods solemnly, tiptoeing into the room with exaggerated care, though her eyes widen the moment she spots the bundle in my arms.
“Dad,” she whispers, tugging Wade’s hand. “Dad, I can see the baby!”
My heart swells at the word “Dad” spoken so naturally now, though I remember how long it took for both Evie and Wade to find their way to it. The first time she said it, Wade had to excuse himself to the workshop for a full ten minutes. Now it flows between them as naturally as breathing.
“Come meet your brother,” I say, patting the edge of the bed beside me.
Wade lifts Evie and places her carefully next to me, his hands lingering protectively as she settles. Then he moves to my other side, perching on the edge of the bed, one large hand coming to rest on the baby’s blanket-wrapped foot.
“He’s so small,” Evie whispers, leaning in for a closer look. “His fingers are like little baby carrots.”
Wade chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Good comparison, kid.”
“I read that newborns can’t see very far,” Evie informs us seriously. “Just about as far as from his eyes to your face when you feed him, Mom. So he can see you when he eats.”
I exchange a proud glance with Wade over her head. “That’s exactly right. How did you know that?”
“Miss Hazel got me a big sister book. I’ve been studying.” She says this with such earnest responsibility that I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “It said I have to help protect him because I’m bigger.”
“You’ll be a wonderful big sister,” I tell her, meaning every word.
Evie reaches out a tentative finger, then looks at Wade. “Can I touch him?”
“Gently,” Wade nods. “Like when you’re checking if bread dough has risen enough.”
She extends one small finger and brushes it feather-light across her brother’s cheek. The baby stirs, his tiny mouth working in his sleep.
“He knows it’s me,” she whispers, awestruck.
“Of course he does,” Wade says. “He’s been listening to your voice for months. Remember how you read stories to Mom’s belly?”
Evie beams with pride, then suddenly remembers her package. “I brought something!” She lifts the carefully wrapped bundle. “Dad helped me make it. It’s for baby Ethan.”
Wade helps her unwrap it, revealing a tiny wooden box with the baby’s name carefully carved into the lid. Inside, nestled in soft fabric, is a small wooden star.
“It’s his first Christmas ornament,” Evie explains. “Dad made one shaped like a rolling pin for me last year, remember? So baby Ethan needs one too. It’s a star because he’s our new star.”
The thoughtfulness of the gift brings fresh tears to my eyes. Probably my pregnancy hormones still running wild. “It’s perfect,” I manage.
“There’s something else too,” Wade says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a familiar wooden heart. The one he carved the night we met, the one he carried for months before finally giving it to me. A thin leather cord has been threaded through a small hole in the top.
“Thought it might look right hanging on his bassinet,” Wade explains, his gruff voice softening. “Since he’s part of our heart now too.”
“Wade…” I start, but words fail me. Instead, I shift the baby slightly. “Would you like to hold your son?”
A flash of nervousness crosses his face, quickly replaced by determination. With careful, capable hands—hands that have fixed pipes and built shelves and cradled Evie through countless nightmares—he lifts the tiny bundle.
The contrast is striking. This small, new life against Wade’s broad chest, those tiny fingers curling reflexively around one of his large, calloused ones. His expression transforms into something so tender it makes my chest ache.
“Hey there, Ethan,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble. “I’m your dad.”
The simple declaration hangs in the air, profound in its ordinariness. Three years ago, Wade Morgan couldn’t imagine being anyone’s father. Now he is twice over, and wears it like he was born for this role.
“Can I tell him about the bakery?” Evie asks, scooting closer to peer at her brother in Wade’s arms.
“Of course,” I smile. “Tell him all about it.”
She leans in, her face serious. “Baby Ethan, we have the best bakery in the whole town. Mommy makes bread that everyone loves, and I help with the sprinkles and napkins. And Dad built me a special nook with my name on it, and he’ll make you one too when you’re bigger.”
Wade meets my eyes over the children’s heads, and the look we exchange contains all the words we don’t need to say aloud. From reluctant plumber to devoted father. From broken-hearted single mom to this moment of complete fullness.
“And guess what else,” Evie continues, warming to her role as tour guide to her brother’s new world. “We live in a blue house with a big yard, and Dad built me a swing on the oak tree. He can push really high, but you have to wait till you’re bigger.”
As Evie chatters on, I catch sight of a familiar silver bob passing by our door, followed by Hazel’s delighted face peering in.
“Is this a private family moment, or can honorary grandmothers intrude?” she asks, charm bracelet jingling as she waves.
“Come in,” I call softly. “Someone’s eager to meet you.”
Hazel enters bearing a large basket overflowing with baby items, including what appears to be a handmade quilt. Sarah from The Copper Kettle follows with a casserole dish that promises actual home-cooked food amidst hospital fare.
“Oh my,” Hazel breathes, approaching Wade to gaze at the baby. “He’s absolutely perfect. Looks just like his daddy around the eyes.”
Wade ducks his head, still uncomfortable with direct compliments but pleased nonetheless. “He’s got his mom’s nose, I think.”
“And my cuteness,” Evie adds, not to be forgotten. “I’m going to show him everything.”
“I brought a special gift,” Hazel says, pulling the quilt from her basket. As she unfolds it, I gasp softly. Sewn into the pattern are four figures—two tall, two small—standing beside a building that can only be Rising Hearts Bakery.
“I’ve been working on it since you told us the news,” she says, spreading it across the foot of the bed. “A family heirloom for your expanding family.”
“It’s beautiful,” I tell her, touching the stitching with reverent fingers.
“The whole town’s buzzing about Juniper Falls’ newest resident,” Sarah adds. “Beck’s already talking about a miniature tool belt for when he’s older.”
Hazel perches on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling, dear?”
“Tired,” I admit. “But happy. So very happy.”
A nurse appears in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wondered if you’d like a family photo? We offer it as part of our new parent package.”
“Yes please!” Evie bounces slightly before remembering to be gentle.
Wade carefully transfers Ethan back to my arms, then lifts Evie to sit beside me. He settles on the edge of the bed, one arm around my shoulders, the other hand gently supporting Ethan’s blanket-wrapped feet.
“Beautiful family,” the nurse comments, raising her camera. “Everyone say ‘cookies’!”
“Cookies!” Evie proclaims with enthusiasm while the rest of us smile.
After the nurse leaves and our visitors excuse themselves with promises to return tomorrow, a peaceful quiet settles over the room. Ethan sleeps soundly in his hospital bassinet, the carved wooden heart hanging from the side, swaying gently whenever Wade reaches out to touch it.
“I never thought I’d have this,” Wade says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Any of it.”
I reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know.”
“When I fixed your sink that first day…” He shakes his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I just wanted to stop the leak and get out of there.”
“And now look at you,” I tease. “Trapped for good.”
“Best kind of trap,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
Evie, who has been examining the bassinet with careful attention, turns to us. “Dad, will you build Ethan a special bed like you built my nook?”
“Already started,” Wade admits. “Been working on a cradle from the same maple tree. Should be ready when Mom and Ethan come home.”
“Our family is perfect now,” Evie declares with satisfaction. “Like when you fixed Bunny’s ear, but even better.”
The simple observation, delivered with a child’s clarity, brings tears to my eyes again. Wade’s hand tightens around mine.
“You’re right, pumpkin,” I tell her. “It’s perfect.”
Outside, the sun begins its descent behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Inside our hospital room, the four of us exist in a perfect bubble of new beginnings.
I think of the bakery, of our home, of the journey that brought us here—a journey that began with a leaky sink and a grumpy plumber who turned out to be everything we needed.
Some things break so they can be mended into something stronger. Some hearts crack to make room for more love than they ever thought possible.
And sometimes, the most beautiful families are the ones that fix each other, one gentle repair at a time.
*** The End ***
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Rule #12: Don’t Date The Grump and this little bonus epilogue. Ready for more? I recommend you check out the Alphabet Sweetheart series that takes place in Juniper Falls. You’ve met a few recurring characters like Hazel already.
And if you’re ready for more sweet, swoony and a little funny, check out my latest series – The Callahans of Elk Ridge.
Happy Reading!