Page 103 of Her Wild Coast Promise

Hunter’s son Tristan piggybacks his little sister into the room, their cheeks flushed from their walk in the snow with Petra and the others. Rosie and Charlie lope in with them, tails wagging.

We break away from the game to get everyone to the table—a feat considering how many people Mary Alice agreed to host.

Once everyone is seated and salivating, I stand up. “Before we say grace, there’s something I need to share.”

The room goes still. Even the kids look at me, curious.

My eyes are already misting, but I force down a swallow. “I want to say how grateful I am to all of you. For welcoming us like family.” The McCabes took me and Cora in after the explosion, giving us a place to stay and the peace we needed to heal.

I turn to Cora, her eyes already misting. “But most of all, I want to thank Cora. For standing by me. For caring for me. For believing in me.”

Gently, I pull her to her feet. “I love you, Cora.”

Tears spill from her eyes, the warmth between us like a magnet. Since I woke up in the hospital to find her there with me, I haven’t wanted her out of my sight. And though it would be impossible to keep it that way, our connection feels as strong today as it was that moment.

“I love you too,” Cora says, wiping her tears and laughing.

I cradle her face and kiss her.

Murmurs and cheers fill the air. I laugh and reluctantly pull back. Cora leans into my chest and I wrap her in a gentle embrace.

We might not have all the answers yet. Though Cora plans to take Heidi’s offer, and as sheriff, my job will be more time consuming as ever, we don’t yet know where we’ll live, or how we’ll balance the family we both want someday with our careers, but I’m not worried. We have each other, and that’s everything.

Everything that matters.

ChapterThirty

SETH

The baby monitorwakes me at four but I’m already awake, savoring Cora’s warmth against me. I kiss her gently on the shoulder before slipping from the bed. It pains me to leave her, but I remind myself she’s safe. And I’ll be back soon.

Rosie perks her head up when I pad into the kitchen, eager for breakfast and our morning run. While Robbie’s bottle warms, I squat down and pet her soft head. She tucks her nose back under her tail and is asleep again in seconds. Bottle in hand, I pass the Christmas tree boasting a growing pile of presents and climb the steps two at a time.

Upstairs, I pass the twins’ room, empty this weekend thanks to Cora’s parents whisking them off to see the children’s theater production of A Christmas Carol followed by the electric train display downtown and a night in their hotel. Today they’ll order room service French Toast, according to Jonah. Mateo was more excited about the hotel’s heated pool and twisty slide. Though they’re only across town, I miss them like crazy.

Inside Robbie’s room, I hurry over to the crib and peer down. Our little guy is on his back, playing with his toes and making what his mom and I call his race car noises. Above him, the simple mobile spins slowly, keeping him occupied. When he sees me, his eyes light up and I’m treated to his gigantic toothless smile.

After I set the bottle aside, I reach down and scoop him up. Though only four months old, he’s off the charts for height and weight already, and I know it won’t be long before he starts crawling and exploring and trying to do everything his older brothers do. For now, I savor this moment of quiet, just the two of us.

I grab a cloth from the stack on his changing table and the blanket from the back of the glider and settle in, with my baby boy cradled in the crook of my left arm. The instant we’re in position, he opens his mouth for the bottle. Like a baby bird, Cora and I joke.

While he sucks down his breakfast, his little fingers wrapped around my index finger and thumb, as if trying to pull the bottle closer, I watch in fascination. When we had the twins, moments like this were a luxury. It was full court press at feeding time. I loved every minute of it, my heart so full I felt like I was going to burst, but I love these easy, quiet moments with Robbie too.

His eyes have turned drowsy by the time he’s down to the last ounce. Once he’s done, I lift him to my shoulder and rub his back. He curls against me, his full belly pressing into my chest with his deep sigh of satisfaction. I turn to kiss his head, chuckling. We rock and I pat his back until he rewards my efforts with a solid burp. After a quick diaper change, I zip him back into his sleeper sack and walk with him on my shoulder back and forth across the circular rug next to his crib until his weight grows heavy and he yawns into my neck.

The soft glow of the night light illuminates his rosy cheeks and heavy eyelids as I lay him down. I take a moment to caress his silky hair, marveling at how incredibly perfect he is.

To think I could have missed out on this entirely. I almost laugh at myself for being so stubborn and scared—that I’d feel too much, that the world was too dangerous for children. I’m still scared, but it’s eclipsed by the love for my family, a love that grows stronger every day, thanks to Cora.

Robbie’s eyes flutter closed and his arms relax. I give him one last stroke across his brow, then pad from the room. Downstairs, I stoke the woodstove, then pluck a small box with a forest green ribbon from the pile of gifts and hurry down the hall. Inside our bedroom, Cora is deep under the covers. At my back, the fire gives a faintsnap. I leave the door open so the warmth will carry into the room. I set the small box on her nightstand, then slip under the covers behind her. She stirs when I settle like a second spoon against her back, and snuggles closer.

The warmth of her radiates into me, heating my chest and thighs. I hold her gently, caressing her hip, savoring this quiet moment with the woman I love.

She wakes slowly, stretching out her arm. “You smell good,” she says. “Like Christmas.”

“It’s that giant tree you made me drag out of the woods.”

She laughs softly. “I helped drag it, remember? And I think there were two little boys who participated too.”

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