Forever with You

“Our money,” she concedes. “And it’s going well, I think.”

“Very well.” Very well, indeed.

“Did you notice Chandler’s been following Gwen around like a lost puppy?”

I had noticed. Though there’s too much lust in his eye for me to understand the puppy comparison. “She doesn’t seem to mind.” Gwen’s gaze also holds a degree of desire. Can Alayna see it?

“No, she doesn’t.” Alayna giggles. She does see it, then. “And everyone seems happy.”

“Everyone does at that.” And I’m the happiest.

She places a kiss on my neck that sends a jolt to my cock. “Even your mother has managed to remain polite.”

The mention of my mother has me limp. “She does seem slightly more in control of herself now that she’s sober.” Sophia’s only been home from upstate since January. She missed Mirabelle’s baby’s birth, something that I believe she regrets deeply, but she’s better now than she was, and I believe even Sophia thinks the sacrifice is worth it. “She still is a nasty old bitch, though, isn’t she?”

Alayna laughs, her hair tickling my neck with the movement, the sound tickling my heart with its purity. “You said it, not me.”

I hold her tighter and kiss her temple. This is everything I ever needed and never knew I wanted, wrapped up in the most beautiful of packages. Well, not quite everything. There’s still one thing left on the list.

I broach the subject I’ve been avoiding in a passive way. Perhaps it’s manipulative, but it’s who I am. “I saw you with Arin Marise, earlier. You’re so good with her.”

Arin Marise Sitkin is Adam and Mirabelle’s baby. My sister insists that she gave her daughter a name that couldn’t be shortened so that I’ll call her what everyone else calls her. But I’ve taken to calling her Arin Marise just to rile her up. She’s five and a half months old now, all cheeks and grins. Arin’s petite like her mother but feisty. You only notice her small stature in comparison to Braden, Alayna’s nephew who’s only four months old, but almost twice as big as Arin.

Alayna and I have never talked about children, not about our children, anyway. I’ve seen her with Arin and Braden and fallen in love with her all over again with the care and gentleness she gives them, but I’ve never brought up the actual topic. Perhaps it scared me, but it doesn’t scare me now. Not now that I know she’s mine truly and deeply no matter how this conversation goes.

I pull back from our embrace to look in her eyes, thinking I should probably put this off until a more appropriate time, but unable to wait another second to ask. “Do you…” I begin then start over. “Have you thought about children of your own?”

She leans forward to kiss my throat then, with her eyes cast down, says tentatively, “I’d probably fuck them up.”

That had always been my fear, and if it weighs too heavily on her, I’ll abandon the whole idea. I kiss her head again and then ask outright, “Would you like to fuck them up with me?”

She laughs again and meets my gaze, her eyes misty and her face aglow. “Yes,” she says without any hesitation or trace of doubt. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” I draw her closer and spin her around. “We can get started tonight in the plane. Or right now, if you prefer. I saw a rather large oak in one of the smaller gardens. I’m almost certain we could hide there, even with this dress of yours.”

“I’d love to see how you plan to get at me with all this material in the way.”

I nip at her ear. “Oh, precious, I’m very resourceful. Need I remind you that I’m a man who gets what he wants?” Again I lean back to look in her eyes. “And anyone who ever doubted that only needs to look at me right now to know it’s true. Everything I want is here, in my arms.”

“I love you,” she murmurs.

“I love you first.” And last. And everything in between.

I kiss her, sweetly, chastely enough for our onlookers, but with just enough bite that she knows I mean it. Then our dance is over and it’s time for her to dance with her brother and me with Sophia.

Reluctantly, I let her go. I can bear these few minutes apart. I have her for a lifetime.

THE END

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Here we are at the hard part. Seriously, writing 110,000 words is easy compared to writing the couple thousand that makes up the thank yous. I know I’ll leave several people out. Please don’t think that means I’ve forgotten you in my heart. Just my mind is a little fried.

First, as always, to my husband, Tom—I love you first. And last. And everything in between.

To my children who thought that mom writing full-time would mean they’d see me more—thank you for your patience and understanding. I love and adore you, even when I’m yelling at you to get out of my office.

To my Mom—thank you for raising me to be a person who goes after her dreams yet still thinks about others. I, too, hope I never change.

To Ge

To Bethany Taylor for editing and book-fairying and even a little for the moping because it makes me feel better about the amount of time I spend moping. And for teaching me so much about stick-to-it-ness and kindness (yes, I said that, you faux-blackhearted woman, you).

To Kayti McGee for being my plot partner and an excellent submissive. I fully recognize that I dominate all our conversations. Thank you so much for your ear and your suggestions. I will drive to Boulder/Longmont to see you even though the laws have changed; I swear it!

To my critique partners and beta readers. My, God! I would not have made it through this without you, especially when I was so behind. Thank you all for reading and suggesting so quickly. Specifically, thank you Lisa Otto for making time for me in your busy schedule and telling me how it is. To Tristina Wright for knowing my characters better than me and correcting their behavior. To Jackie Felger for always making me feel like I’m a better writer than I am while catching more comma errors than a person should possibly be able to catch. To Melissa B. King for always letting me know that the steamy scenes were working. To Je

To the people who make things happen for me: my agent, Bob DiForio; my formatter, Caitlin Greer; Julie at AToMR Book Blog Tours; my publicists at Inkslinger, Shanyn Day, and K.P. Simmons—both of you are amazeballs; Melanie Lowery and Jolinda Bivins for making me awesome swag; to my “other” editors Holly Atkinson, who has taught me to be mindful of comma splices, and Eileen Rothschild who is supportive of all my works and not just the one she bought.

To my FANTASTIC assistants, Lisa Otto, Amy McAvoy, and Taryn Maj. How did I get so lucky to have all of you working with me this past year? In many ways it’s been the best part of the job.

To my soulmates and bandmates, The NAturals—Sierra, Ge