Page 34 of The Irishman's Christmas Gamble
Epilogue
Ten months later
Frankie walked back into Nathan and Chloe’s wedding reception to find Liam leaning against the wall, waiting for her. He looked so gloriously sexy in his cream-colored linen suit that she wanted to take him back to the jet and strip his clothes right off. But she couldn’t leave the wedding before the bride and groom did.
So she contented herself with sliding her arm under his jacket to trace her fingers up his spine while she whispered what she wanted to do when the reception ended.
His blue eyes turned hot as he bent to murmur beside her ear, “You read my mind,a stór.” He held out his hand and twined his fingers with hers as soon as she took it. “Let’s take a walk away from the crowd.”
He led her out a side door into the soft caress of the autumn air in North Carolina.
“Nathan says this is one of the three days it’s bearable to be outdoors at Camp Lejeune,” Frankie said, as they strolled across the grass toward the bank of the New River. The scent of brackish water—part sea, part earth—filled her nostrils.
“Did your three gamblers burn their wagers?” Liam asked as they stopped to take in the view of water and trees.
“All ashes now. I left them toasting their new wives in champagne.” Nathan had been the first of the three men to get engaged—thus winning his portion of the bet—but the last to get married, so his wedding had been chosen for the ceremonial burning of the men’s written forfeits, marking the successful completion of their wager of hearts. For a while, Frankie had been worried that Gavin Miller would fail, but even the darkly cynical writer had found a soulmate. “I owe them all a debt of gratitude,” she said. “They knew something important was missing from their lives, something that made them desperate enough to bet on love. If I hadn’t seen that, I might not have been as willing to take the risk with you.”
“And that is the perfect introduction to why I lured you out here alone,” Liam said, holding both her hands in his. He took a deep breath and locked his deep blue gaze on her face. “These last ten months have been the best of my life. Seeing you and Owen together—” She watched the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed against some powerful emotion. “—has brought me a joy beyond all my dreams.”
After Frankie’s panic attack at Paddy’s Pub, Liam had backed off and let Frankie come to know Owen at her own pace. They’d started with a trip to the Museum of Natural History, neutral territory with no triggers. Once she and Owen got on the subject of chemistry, their relationship progressed smoothly.
Now Owen regularly visited with her in the Bellwether Club’s kitchen to concoct new flavors of chocolate and other more volatile chemical combinations. The chef viewed their presence with trepidation, but Frankie loved seeing what experiments the boy’s agile mind created, even if they occasionally exploded.
Frankie squeezed Liam’s hands. “You were right…Owen and I are kindred spirits.” She loved to watch Liam with his son too. The bond between the two of them had grown strong now that Liam spent so much time with Owen. He was one lucky kid.
Liam’s grip tightened. “So there is no reason why we shouldn’t officially become a family.” With all the graceful control of a well-conditioned athlete, he sank onto one knee, his face tilted up to hers. “I remember the day we met. My soccer ball was about to be mashed by a car, when you darted into the street and kicked it back to me. I fell in love with you in that moment.”
Frankie’s heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest to say “yes”, but she wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “That was gratitude, not love, ye right eejit. I’d saved your most precious possession.”
“I should have known you’d ruin my heartfelt speech,” he said, amusement and exasperation in his eyes. “Have you no romance in your soul at all?”
“I’m an American. We like to get to the point.”
“All right then.” All the amusement left his expression and he took another deep breath. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Her heart seemed to beat in her throat, so it was hard to speak. “Yes.”
There was a moment of silence before he said, “That’s all? Justyes?”
“Did I not wake up in your bed this morning and tell you that I loved you and then proceed to demonstrate just how much? Did I not tell you ten minutes ago that I wanted to go back to the jet, strip naked, and make love for the entire flight back to New York?” She softened her voice. “Do I need to tell you again that I adore you with everything in me?”
“I never tire of hearing it.”
“Stand up, and I’ll show you.”
“I’m not finished.” He released her hands and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a black velvet box. He flipped the lid open and drew out a ring, holding out his hand for hers. “It’s an emerald, Frankie,” he said as he slid it on, the brush of his long fingers sending a shiver of warmth up her arm. “Because no matter how bad it was, Ireland was where we started. Even more important, Ireland is where I fell irrevocably in love with you.”
She brushed her fingertips down his cheek, marveling at the way the boy had changed—and not changed—into the man. Wondering how she had inspired the kind of love that burned bright and true through the years of separation. Knowing that she had carried him in her heart through all that time too.
“The emerald is exactly right,” she said, as the deep green gem glowed in a slant of sunlight. “I’ve learned to be proud of where I came from because it brought me you.”
He rose in the same way he’d knelt…with perfect efficiency in every muscle. It gave her pleasure simply to watch him move.
“I tried to guess how I’d feel at this moment,” he said, cradling her face in his big hands. “But I had no idea that I would feel not just joy, but peace. Finglas is where I lived but you were always my home. And now I’m where I belong…with you.”
He touched his lips to hers with such tenderness that tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling over as her eyelids closed to savor the feel of his body against hers. His soft, firm mouth grazed the wet streaks on her cheeks.
“Don’t cry,a stór,” he murmured against her skin, his breath a caress. “We’ve earned our happiness.”
