Page 105 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
The crowd began to disperse back into smaller conversations, but I noticed Blake lingering near the windows with a stormy look in his eyes.
He caught my eye and walked over with that casual swagger that reminded me painfully of myself at his age.
"So," he said, looking between Tessa and me with a mixture of amusement and resignation. "My dad's dating someone closer to my age than his. That's not weird at all."
"Blake—" I started, but he held up a hand.
"Relax, old man. I'm just saying, for a guy pushing fifty, you've still got game." He extended his hand to Tessa with a grin that was pure charm. "You seem cool after everything, and you make him smile again, so I guess that's what matters." I could only take his acknowledgement at face value, but I hoped he was being sincere.
Tessa shook his hand with obvious relief. "Thank you, Blake. That means a lot." I watched with tense shoulders as he winked at me and then turned back to her.
"But I'm not calling you mom," he added with a smirk. "That would be too weird, even for this situation."
The comment drew chuckles from everyone within earshot, and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. My son's acceptance—grudging as it was—meant more than I could express.
As the evening wound down and guests began to leave, Tessa and I found ourselves by the windows overlooking the city. The snowfall we'd experienced last year was in short supply this year, but the city was every bit as beautiful decked out for Christmas.
"Look at that," Tessa murmured, leaning against me as we watched the winter scene unfold. "At least it's not the blizzard that stranded us here last year."
"Thank God for small mercies." I tightened my arm around her, remembering how that storm had opened the door between us. "Though I can't complain about where that blizzard led us."
She tilted her head up to smile at me, her eyes sparkling with contentment and love.
This was the moment.
Everything in my life had led to this—all the mistakes, the loneliness, the years of putting work before happiness. All of it had brought me here, to this woman who'd shown me what it meant to truly live again.
I turned to face her fully, my hands finding her waist as I looked down into those hazel eyes that had captivated me from the very beginning.
"Let's make this official already," I whispered against her ear, my voice thick with emotion and certainty. "Say you'll be my wife?"
Her face transformed with joy so pure, it took my breath away.
"Yes," she breathed, reaching up to frame my face with her hands. "Yes, absolutely yes."
EPILOGUE
Tessa
The massive diamond on my left hand caught the firelight as I adjusted the red velvet bow on our Christmas tree.
Six carats of pure sparkle that still made me catch my breath every time the light hit it right. Mrs. Tessa Wynn-Cross—the name still felt foreign and wonderful on my tongue after eight months of marriage.
Our new house in Lincoln Park was everything I'd never dared to dream of—soaring ceilings, a gourmet kitchen I was still learning to use, and windows that overlooked a private garden now dusted with fresh snow.
But the best part was the soft sounds drifting from the nursery upstairs—Lucian's low voice singing Christmas carols to our son.
Alastair had arrived exactly four weeks early, screaming his way into the world with his father's pale gray eyes and what the nurses called "impressive lung capacity".
At six months old, he was already showing signs of the Cross stubborn streak, refusing to sleep anywhere but in his daddy's arms.
"There we go, little man," I heard Lucian murmur from the baby monitor. "Santa's coming early tomorrow, so you need your beauty sleep."
I smiled as his footsteps creaked down the hall. A few minutes later, he appeared at the top of our open staircase, having shed his sweater for a simple white T-shirt that showed off the muscles rippling beneath.
Even at forty-nine, he was devastatingly handsome—more so now that the constant stress lines had smoothed from around his eyes.
"Finally down?" I asked as he descended the stairs.
