Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“I know you meant it, sir,” Tommy says. “I’m never going to cheat, mistreat, or hurt her. From this day on, I dedicate my life to making her happy.”
Dad beams. Then Tommy shakes his head. “No, that’s not right. I dedicated my life the moment I saw her, the moment I saw you.”
He turns to me again. “George told me how well you did today.”
“I didn’t even know he was involved.”
“He wasn’t, but I asked him to check for me. I heard what you did. You’re talented, selfless.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “With your support, I feel like I can do anything.”
“You can.”
“Okay, time to pose,” Mom says, laughing as she aims her phone.
I hug close to him, lay my head against his shoulder, and smile at the camera. Finally, Loki can’t take it anymore. He ducks his head and runs happily into the garden, running in British-mad circles around us, his excitement bubbling out of him. Tommy laughs and scoops him up, and then Loki clambers between us, licking my face and then Tommy’s. Finally, Mom and Dad join us, and we sit around the table drinking lemonade as the sun sets.
“So, how does it feel?” Mom asks. “To be a fiancée?”
“Pretty much perfect,” I say, smiling as I grip Tommy’s hand.
Dad’s gaze strays to our handholding, and for a second, I think he’s going to be annoyed or maybe uncomfortable, but then he smiles. I can tell it’s genuine. I can tell he’s happy for us.
“And you?” Dad says, addressing Tommy.
“Perfect,” he says.
“I was thinking on the flight here… Thanks for that, by the way.”
Tommy waves a hand. “You never have to thank me for courtesies like that.”
“A private plane is more than a courtesy.”
Mom nudges him. “Tell him what you were going to say, Charley.”
Dad nods. “I was thinking how I can’t wait to meet my grandchildren.”
We all sit in the warmth, the love of that comment, letting it fill us as we think of the future.
EPILOGUE
THREE WEEKS LATER
Thomas
“Are you going to call me Dad?” Charley says through gritted teeth as he tries to reach the final rep in his set.
I move my hands to the bar.
“Don’t do it,” he growls, his arms shaking as he tries to strain it the rest of the way.
We’re in the private gym in my flat. Charley’s been helping me with some construction work. He’s very skilled in that area. It shocked him when I told him he could fly over some of his crew from the US.
“I want the best building my family home.”
He’s a good man. When he asked me for tips on getting back into shape, I said I’d help him. He works hard, putting the effort in, even if he is bloody stubborn.
“I’ll barely touch it,” I tell him.
He groans, the bar shaking. “Dammit.”
“I’m hardly touching it.”
I apply a little pressure to the bar, helping him to lift it the rest of the way.
“That was good. I bet you’re burning now.”
He rolls his arms, nodding. “Damn right, I am. Thanks.”
“All part of the process.”
He touches his goatee, something he does often, nodding to my arms. “How long do you have to work out to get arms like that?”
“Some of it’s genetics, but I’ve worked out at least three times a week since I was twenty. It kept me sane while pursuing the business.”
“And you never missed days?”
“I missed a lot, especially in the beginning, but I’d still go right back, even if two weeks passed. Finally, I had the time to keep a strict regimen.”
“But why?”
“I’m a simple man, Charley,” I say, grinning as we swap positions and I sit on the bench. “If I don’t lift heavy stuff now and then, I feel like I could murder someone.”
He laughs, then the laughter dies when he looks up. I expect to see something terrible, but it’s Ami, wearing her work gear, her hands clutched to her chest, her hair gorgeous how it’s tied up.
Her expression is excited, but Charley asks, “Oh, Ami, what is it? What’s wrong?”
I think I know, and it’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s got me almost cheering if I’m reading her right.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she says in an awed voice, like my voice when talking about our love. “I just did a test and… I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant,” I repeat, too stunned to react.
Then she smiles and yells, “Yeah, pregnant! A bun in the oven is cooking over here.”
I laugh, and she laughs as we close the distance. When we hug and breathe each other in, I know she hardly knows what she’s saying. She’s bubbling up with love and excitement for the future, and so am I.
“I’m so happy,” I whisper, my voice almost cracking. “I’m going to be there every step of the way, every single one, throughout the pregnancy training stuff. Don’t blame me if I’m a crap bloke about it, but hell, I can say, breathe, breathe at the birth, and be there for every bloody thing in that kid’s life. I’ll be there for both of you.”