Page 106 of Harper

Harper chuckles nervously. “We tried to keep the magic alive for Reeve for as long as we could, but I don’t think she made it past ten.”

“Did you know she doesn’t have a phone yet? They don’t want her on social media. Geez. I mean, I haven’t even started to think about stuff like that yet.”

“I know. We have a lot to learn, huh?”

“So much, Harp.” I slide my hands from her belly. “I think she’s done kicking.”

“Probably. It comes in little waves.”

“Come and sit by the fire,” I say, taking Harper’s hand. She lets me lead her to the couch. “I want us to be able to talk about her,” I say. “About Moriah Raven.”

“I want that, too.”

“Denise is great about sharing. We can watch her grow up from here, you know? And then, when we finally do meet her in person, the gap won’t be so wide.”

“Sometimes talking about her makes me feel bad,” Harper says softly.

“I need you to know…” I squeeze Harper’s hands in mine. “You made the right choice.”

Her head whips up. Tears shine in her eyes.

“I did?”

“You definitely did,” I tell her. “We weren’t ready. I wish I could say that I was, but I wasn’t. I understand why you chose to let the Calvins raise her. And, remembering how gung-ho I was to start a family, I understand why you kept her a secret. You were scared I’d try to force you to do something you weren’t ready to do. I get it. I understand, Harp.”

A sob escapes from the back of her throat, and I pull her into my arms as she cries.

“I’m s-so relieved,” she says through sniffles. “It was s-so hard, you know? I—I never wanted to h-hurt you. I w-wanted what was b-best for her. I just wasn’t ready to b-be a mom.”

“I know, darlin’,” I tell her, rubbing her back. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you s-sooner, Joe.”

“I’m sorry I was so hard on you when you finally did.”

“No!” she says. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Joe. It was a shock.”

I reach for her cheeks, cupping them gently. Leaning forward, I press my lips to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose, then to each cheek, and then to her lips. I kiss her longingly, with all the love I feel for her, with all the love that’s survived our long, complicated history.

“I’ve got you, Harper Stewart,” I whisper, nuzzling my nose against hers.

“I’ll never lie to you again,” she says. “Not ever.”

“I believe you,” I say, kissing her again. Spying the little box on the table, I reach for it, offering it to her. “Merry Christmas.”

She reaches up to dry her cheeks with the backs of her hands, then smiles at me.

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

As she pulls the lid off the box, I slide to the floor on one bent knee. She gasps, her eyes flicking to mine and then back to the ring in the box.

“Marry me,” I say, taking the ring from its velvet pillow so I can place it on her trembling hand. “Please marry me, Harper.”

“Y-Yes!” she says, her tears starting all over again. “Yes yes yes! Yes, Joe. Yes.”

I slide the ring onto her fourth finger, then gently pull her down onto my lap, into my arms.

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