I try to explain my need to get this written in stone. “My mother doesn’t build relationships. She actively avoids it. And my father still hasn’t found someone to hold on to, although he yearns for that. It’s just sad. I know there’s something unique, completely different from the usual level of chemistry and compatibility between us, and I choose to commit to you. So when I say marry me, I mean, choose me back.”

“I—of course, I choose you. But are you really sure? Really sure you want me? That you won’t think you made the wrong choice tomorrow?”

Oh, silly little ghost.

“I’m a Keller, love. I’m never wrong. I’ll ask again. Try a one-word answer this time.”

“Technically, you never asked,” the smartass points out.

“Whatever. Marry me.”

She doesn’t say no.

EPILOGUE

KELLER

“You’re back!” Octavia screams, bouncing to the driveway in her old, ratty unicorn T-shirt.

It’s still her favorite after ten years. She doesn’t care that it absolutely no longer fits.

"Vivi, go wear something that covers your navel,” I groan at the teen.

She sticks her tongue out at me. “You’re not my dad, Da!”

“I’m the guy who can convince your mom you’re mature enough for a car this year or not,” I remind her sneakily.

Claire bumps my shoulder more viciously than she should. “Leave her alone. You look great, Octavia. You’re at home and comfortable. Nothing wrong with that.”

I grin at her. I know she’s only siding with my niece because she’s annoyed with me.

“So, how did it go?” Octavia asks as we walk into my father’s house. “Do we have a picture this time?”

“Great. It went just great,” Claire replies, glaring at me.

I try not to look too smug. “Where are the kids?”

“Zoe’s napping, Eugenia is with Mom watching a show, and Auntie Hyacinth took Leon to buy his hockey gear. Come on, spill! Am I going to be auntie to another boy or a girl?”

I can’t help the grin taking over my entire face. “Both.”

“No!”

I nod. “Twins.”

“But—” Octavia turns to Claire. “You said it was the last one. That you only wanted four.”

“I don’t know which god, witch, or demon your uncle made a deal with,” Claire hisses, “but apparently, it’s five. I am never letting you touch me again,” she threatens, not for the first time in the last hour.

“Be serious. You literally cannot live a single day without⁠—”

“Lalalala,” Octavia sings. “Impressionable kid present! None of that.”

“Where?” I pretend to look around. “I only see a half-naked brat.”

That earns me a well-deserved kick in the shin.

Five kids next year. Some of our friends, like Lily and Cross, started having kids a year or two after us, but I don’t think anyone in town has five.