Page 43 of War

Ava’s eyes jump to mine. “I didn’t—” She shakes her head. “I didn’t get you anything.”

I smile. “No worries. This is a gift forboth of us, really.”

Frowning, she scrutinizes me as I reach into my pocket and pinch the band of the gold ring I’ve kept locked up for far too long. When I pull it out and hold it between us, the emerald sparkles in the glow of the fire. Just like Ava’s eyes did last night.

As suspected, it’s the exact shade of green.

“Holy shit,” Brayden mutters.

“Oh my god,” Josie squeals.

Their comments sound distant. My focus is fixed firmly on the woman I’m about to ask to be my wife. I tilt my head, brow furrowed, silently sayingare you sure about this?

Her eyes go wide in a way that sayswhat the hell did you do?

That expression, the one of sheer panic and maybe a little fury—probably because I’m doing this in front of the kids—only eggs me on. There’s no resisting the opportunity to push her. This moment, if she allows it, is like magic, and that’s exactly what every one of us in this room needs. A little magic, as well as a bond, a tether to keep us together forever. To keep us safe from the outside world. Our family full of strays.

Maybe Brayden has a point.

“The last few months with these kids have been nothing short of magic. But until now, something has been missing.Someonehas been missing. And in the last twelve hours, it’s become abundantly clear that you are that person. Honestly, this gift is probably more for me than it is for you because, you see, I’d like to extend the magic. And I’d really like to keep you.” With a long exhale, I survey each kid. “We’dlike to keep you. Right, guys?”

Josie nods so emphatically I worry she’ll give herself whiplash.

Scarlett is already nuzzling into Ava’s side.

Brayden just laughs. “Yeah, you’ll fit right in.”

With my heart in my throat, I meet those emerald eyes. It’s a dangerous thing because they really do break through every wall I’ve ever erected. “So what do you say? Will you be ours?”

Either she’s the most talented actress I’ve ever seen, or my spiel was even better than I hoped it could be. In slow motion, her eyes fill with tears. Then I swear her lip wobbles as she breaks into a wide grin, as if she’s truly surprised by the question. As if she didn’tconcoct this scenario herself in this exact spot beside the fire last night.

Either way, I don’t expect her to lunge toward me and wrap her arms around my neck. The whisperedthank youmakes my chest tight, and when she lets go, the loss of contact hits harder than it should.

She sits back on her knees and holds out her hand, waiting for me to slide the ring onto her finger.

For a moment, the world falls away. The kids’ chatter, the sound of that damn drum toy, the crackle of the fire, none of it exists as I slide the ring that used to belong to my mother onto Ava’s finger, my hands trembling.

With her pinky, she grabs a hold of mine and stops the shaking. That little squeeze is all I need to center myself. “Where did you—” Her eyes meet mine, and she shakes her head, like she just knows it’s my mother’s ring. Her expression softens, and once again, I get the feeling that Ava and I are much more alike than I ever could have imagined. “It’s perfect.”

It hits me in this moment that I might really be in trouble. That remaining detached may be more difficult than I anticipated. Because I really want to kiss my future wife.

“Traditionally, the bride says yes,” I taunt.

With a roll of her eyes, she settles between the girls, and just like that, the rest of the world returns. She wraps an arm around Josie before looking back at me, her expression carefully neutral. “Of course I want to be your—all of yours. Yes. Yes, I’ll stay.”

The way she answers, making it about them, is exactly what I needed. Letting out a long breath, I look away from her. So what if this is the first meaningful gift I’ve received since that last Christmas with my mother? This is about the kids. What we’re doing is about them, not about me finding some long-forgotten happiness. Focusing instead on how Brayden lights up as he scrambles over to hug her and how tightly Josie is clinging to her, already yammering about moving Ava in and begging for her to sleep in her room and not mine, I push to a stand.

“Husbands and wives share a room,” I grumble as I walk past them, headed for the trash bag Ava originally offered to get.

“Jealous of a nine-year-old girl?” Ava mumbles, following me toward the kitchen.

Out of earshot of the kids, who are already distracted by their gifts, I whirl around and put my hands on my hips. “What are you doing?” My tone is harsher than I mean for it to be, but I could really use a moment away from her. Otherwise I’m at risk of letting wild ideas like happily ever afters and shit like that take over.

Guys like me don’t get happily ever afters. Arranged marriages? That’s more like it. A partnership? That’s something I can control.

Feelings, though? Not a chance.

“Doing the dishes, you grump.” She saunters over to the sink, where the empty casserole dish is soaking. “And I thought maybe we could have a moment away from the kids to discuss what just happened.”

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