Her words come in a rush of emotions that I want to cup in my hand, to hold, to keep safe. “But now it’s all I want. You’re all I want. Is that enough for you? If we don’t have more children? Is it enough if it’s you and me and us, and the dog?”
I laugh, grab her, and wrap her in my arms. “Yes. That’s what I want. And I’m stupid for not having realized it before. I’m incredibly foolish for missing it.”
I pull back, and she looks up at me, her expression lovely and vulnerable. “Are you sure? How can you say that?”
I run a hand along her hair. “You are enough for me. You’re so much more than enough for me. It took me adopting this dog to realize that I was looking at everything the wrong way. I thought I needed to have more children. I thought about how I missed seven years of my son’s life, and if I had another kid, I wouldn’t miss a moment. But then you said something to me.” I pause for a breath as the memory rushes back—one that was never far from the surface. “You said to write our own narrative. And that didn’t fully resonate until today when we got this dog, and I realized that writing her story was all we could do, and we did, and it’s a great story. And everything became clear.”
She grins, like she’s wildly happy too. “What became clear?”
“What I wanted was not to have missed the first seven years of Ethan's life, but that can’t change, and having another kid won’t make up for it. But I don’t need to make up for it. I have to let it go, and I did. All I want to do is live my life with him and with you and your daughter, and I want to write our story together.”
“Me too,” she says, her soft words hooking into my heart.
I take her hands, holding them tight. “That’s all I want now. I want to love my son, and I want to love this amazing woman in front of me, and I want to love this dog we just adopted. I have so much love inside me, and I want to give it to all of you, and honestly, I’d love to give it to your daughter if she’ll let me.”
“You would? Really?” Her voice trembles like she can’t believe I’m truly saying this.
But I am, and I mean every word.
“I am perfectly good with this. With the family we already have. All I want is not to miss a second of what comes our way. I don’t want to miss a minute of what we will have together. Because I know we can have an amazing life. And I know we can have an amazing family. You and me and Ethan and Wednesday and Steve Trout and Ripley.”
She arches a brow in a question. “Steve Trout?”
I wave my hand. “He named the dog Steve Trout. It’s a girl. None of it makes any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. He named the dog after someone he likes.”
“Like you’re going to do with Ripley. When you’re ready, say the word. You will have free vet care for life, even at-home service. I am a cat whisperer, you know. Saul is living proof of that.”
She laughs. “That’s a really good promise.”
“See? That’s what I want. I want to promise you things and deliver on them. I want to promise you my heart and give it to you. I don’t want anything more than what I’m already hoping we can have together. Do you want that?”
And I wait for her answer, wildly hoping that it’s going to match what I learned today.
She lifts her hands to my face. “I love you, Liam. I want to be with you. I want to be the person that you came here and found. And I think we could have a great family together with the family we already have. And I want to put my heart on the line for you. So yes, I want that.”
I draw her against me, looking around at everything that we have, a wonderful embarrassment of riches. “This is all I could ever want.”
I kiss her. On the scale of kisses, it’s right there at the top. It’s long and soft and slow. It’s passionate and sensual and full of love.
When we break apart, she gasps.
The excited kind of gasp, not the sexy kind.
“What is it?”
“Wednesday wants to get a cat. Let’s make it a double today. Want to go find Ripley?”
I grin, and it takes over my whole being. “The four of us?”
She rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”
“Such cheek,” I say, shaking my head.
She grabs my hand, slides it around to her ass, and whispers, “You love my cheeks.”
