Page 91 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"But I'm not walking away from them. Not again." I met his stare. "I can't promise I'll be perfect at this. I can't promise it'll be easy. But I can promise I'll try. Every day."
Bill picked up his beer, took a long drink, then set it down with a decisive thunk. "If having you as a son-in-law means my daughter stays home, means those kids grow up knowing their grandfather…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "I can't stand in the way of her happiness. Not anymore."
Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by a new kind of terror. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. You still have to ask her."
The back door opened, and Ivy stepped outside, the triplets trailing behind her. Elena ran straight to Bill, wrapping her arms around his legs. Sammy and Chrissy made a beeline for the sandbox in the corner of the yard.
"Dinner ready?" Ivy asked, and I saw the question in her eyes as she looked between her father and me.
"Just about," Bill said, lifting Elena into his arms. "Why don't you help your mom set the table?"
As Ivy headed back inside, Bill turned to me one more time. "One more thing. You hurt her again, and I don't care how many business deals we have together. I'll destroy you."
The threat was delivered with the calm certainty of a man who meant every word.
"Understood."
But as I watched Ivy through the kitchen window, laughing at something her mother said, I resolved take the next step. I was ready to ask her to marry me. Ready to build a life with her and the children. Ready to be the man she deserved.
The only question was whether she'd say yes. Or whether she'd think I was only asking out of obligation, out of some misguided sense of duty to fix what we'd broken.
EPILOGUE: IVY
Lauren arrived twenty minutes early, her arms full of coloring books and snacks for the triplets. She'd been more excited about tonight than I was, practically bouncing when Duncan called to ask if she could babysit.
"You look beautiful," she whispered as Duncan helped me into my coat. His hand found the small of my back, and I felt that familiar flutter of anticipation.
"Where are we going?" I asked for the third time as we stepped outside.
"You'll see." His smile held secrets, and I caught the reflection of it in the passenger window as Boston's lights blurred past us.
The city looked different at night—softer somehow, all golden glow and possibility. Duncan's hand rested on my knee as he drove, his thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of my dress. I'd chosen the navy blue one he'd complimented weeks ago, the one that made me feel confident and feminine without trying too hard.
When we pulled up to the building downtown, I recognized it immediately. The Meridian Tower, one of the tallest buildings inthe city, with a restaurant on the fifty-second floor that I'd heard about but never imagined visiting.
"Duncan, this is too much," I started, but he was already out of the car, handing his keys to the valet.
"Nothing's too much for you," he said, taking my hand. "Not anymore."
The elevator ride felt endless, my stomach fluttering with more than just the altitude. When the doors opened, I stepped into a world of warm light and breathtaking views. The restaurant was intimate, with maybe twenty tables scattered across the space, each one positioned to take advantage of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Our table sat near the edge, the city spread out below us in a carpet of twinkling lights. The harbor stretched into darkness, and I could see the faint outline of planes taking off from Logan Airport in the distance.
"This is incredible," I breathed, settling into my chair.
Duncan ordered wine—a bottle I'd never heard of but tasted expensive—and we fell into easy conversation. He told me about the first time he'd eaten here, years ago, when he'd been trying to impress a client. How he'd been so nervous he'd barely tasted the food.
"And now?" I asked, taking a sip of wine that was definitely too good for my usual Tuesday night.
"Now I'm nervous for entirely different reasons." His blue eyes caught the candlelight, and I saw something vulnerable there that made my chest tighten.
Dinner was perfect—courses that arrived beautifully arranged, each bite better than the last. Duncan insisted I try the lobster risotto, then laughed when I closed my eyes at the first taste. He told me about his plans to step back from the company, how he wanted to spend more time with the children, with me.
"I want to teach Sammy to throw a football," he said, cutting into his steak. "Take Elena to the aquarium. Show Chrissy how to build things."
"They'd love that," I said, warmth spreading through my chest at the image.
