Page 76 of This Means War

“Okay,” Lydia goes on, “you can leave now.”

Ashley lets out one more scream of outrage, but then tromps back down the dune carrying on the whole way down.

I turn to Lydia and grab her hands. “You were amazing.”

Lydia laughs. “I coach pre-teens, I’m used to handling hissy-fits.”

I chuckle too, but then turn serious. “I should tell you though, I was lying just now when I said this wasn’t a practice marriage.”

“Wait, what?” Her eyebrows rise in concern and she starts to step away, but I hold her hands even tighter.

“What I’m trying to say,” I smile down at her, “is that I think we should get married for real. Like on the beach or in a church or wherever the heck you want.” A smile to match mine is spreading across Lydia’s face now that she understands me. “You told me once,” I go on, “that every little girl imagines their wedding; and if I had to guess, whenyou imagined yours, it didn’t take place at city hall. So, marry me again, Lydia. Let me throw you your dream wedding. Let me declare to the world that I choose you and that I want to spend the rest of my life choosing you–day in and day out.”

“Oh, Cole,” she breathes. “I would love that.” Her expression turns playful; one of my favorite versions of her smile. “What would you say to having it in our backyard? I promise you won’t have to worry about a thing. Not even the toilet paper.”

I throw my head back and laugh, then pull her close against me. “Jamie and Luke better be prepared for clean-up duty,” I tell her, my voice holding more than a hint of seduction, “because once I get you in the bedroom, you won’t be coming out for a while.” Lydia’s answering blush travels all the way down her neck.

“You rakish scoundrel,” she teases a little breathlessly.

“You know you like it,” I reply, and then our lips meet in a kiss worthy of any one of Lydia’s regency romance novels.

Well, actually… it’s even better.

Epilogue

Cole

“Well,” Gabby shakesher head apologetically at Lydia, “I did try and save it, but you know everything happened so fast.” She holds up the tattered remains of Lydia’s wedding dress. “This is the first time I’ve ever had to deliver a bride’s babies.”

Lydia laughs. Her eyes are tired, but she’s still glowing with happiness, our daughter tucked into her arms.

“Don’t worry, she wasn’t planning on ever wearing it again,” I tell Gabby with a grin, looking down at my own charge, a little boy with a full head of brown hair.

“Oh, someone’s awfully cocky,” Lydia teases, and Gabby laughs.

“Congratulations you two. On both the wedding and the birth.”

“Thank you,” we both say in unison. The second Gabby leaves, Josie and Saul poke their heads in.

“Well, that was the most exciting wedding I’ve ever been to,” Josie says by way of greeting.

“That’s what we get for throwing a wedding when the bride was 35 weeks pregnant,” I say with no real regret.

“Thank you for all your help,” Lydia tells her, referencing the fact that it was Josie who found Gabby, also a wedding guest, and rushed her over to where Lydia lay on the basement couch, her labor having come on fast and unexpectedly. The first baby, our son, was delivered right there in our basement before the ambulance even arrived. Our daughter was born en route to the hospital. And now here we are, tucked away in a recovery room. Not exactly the honeymoon we planned, but then again, nothing about our relationship has ever been to plan.

“Now I hope you’re planning on taking the four weeks of paternity leave I offered you when I hired you,” Saul says sternly. “And if you give me one of those babies to hold, I may even make it five.”

Lydia and I both laugh, but she looks at me expectantly. “I’m the mother,” she informs me primly. “You give up your baby.”

I shake my head with a chuckle, but do as she says. “Meet Abraham, Bram for short.”

“Abraham, a fine strong name,” Saul declares. “I take it you named him after the biblical figure.”

“We did,” Lydia confirms, and our eyes meet as we remember that day in our kitchen so many months ago when we first discussed Abraham’s story.

“Here’s hoping he always remembers how muchhe needs God.” I reach over and tuck a piece of his swaddle blanket back into place, marveling as I do just how much has changed for me in recent months. When Lydia and I finally left that sand dune to return to reality, I had about ten voicemails from my old boss offering me my job back and one far more exciting voicemail from Saul offering me a job working as his company’s full-time lawyer. After what happened with Benton Hotels, he’d decided to move towards acquiring and investing in bed and breakfasts like the Robin’s Nest instead and hoped I would join his team to help with all of the subsequent legal work he’d be requiring. I had happily accepted and also happily withdrawn my name from the mayoral race, much to my dad’s dismay. Here’s to hoping meeting his grandkids softens him up a little.

“Amen to that,” Josie agrees, peeking over Saul’s shoulder. “Now I get to hold the other one, right?” She holds out her hands to Lydia who gives a mock dramatic sigh before laughing and passing our daughter over to Josie’s waiting arms.

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