Page 130 of Finding Amanda

She grinned, embarrassed. "No problem." She held out the cup. "Just like you like it."

He took the hot chocolate, swallowed a sip. "Perfect. Thanks."

The kitchen was clean, the Thanksgiving dishes washed and put away. In the dining room, the girls were putting the last of the game back into the box.

He turned back to Amanda. "They're already in pajamas?"

"I gave them their baths." She stepped closer and laid her left hand on his chest. Her wedding ring glittered in the kitchen's overhead lights. "We were just waiting for you to kiss them goodnight."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Are we in a hurry tonight?"

She took his mug and set it on the counter behind her. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her.

He didn't take much convincing. He leaned over to kiss her.

"Ew, gross," Sophie said behind him. "Get a room."

Reluctantly, he moved away from Amanda and faced his daughter. "Where'd you hear that?"

She shrugged. "TV."

Amanda grimaced. "I'll have to monitor her viewing a little closer."

He tightened his grip and whispered in her ear. "From the mouths of babes . . ."

She giggled and called around his shoulder, "Okay, girls. Time for bed."

Mark watched his daughters race for the stairs.

Amanda pressed against him and looked up, her eyes wide and twinkling. "You, too, mister. It's been a long day." She wove her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and lowered her voice. "Meet you in the bedroom in ten minutes?"

He kissed her again, tasted chocolate and peppermint and home. "Make it five."

EPILOGUE

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Amanda shifted the fabric-wrapped bundle in her arms.

Wide eyes stared back at her, hazy blue that would probably turn warm brown, a patch of curly hair, and rosy cupid’s-bow lips.

Her room was dim, the drapes still closed, though morning light peeked in the gap between them. It was after nine—later than either one of them ever slept at home. In a hospital, one had to sleep between the interruptions of the nurses.

Beneath the window, her husband snoozed on the chair-turned-cot that looked about as comfortable as a park bench. His feet hung off the end, the blanket not long enough for his tall frame. They’d both stayed up too late deciding the baby’s name and had finally made a decision. Mostly, Mark hadn’t wanted to put the newborn down, instead nestling him against his muscled chest.

A beautiful picture she’d remember forever.

She’d been on bed rest for eight weeks, which meant Markhad been on daddy-duty and cooking-duty and errand-duty—all on top of work. There was no parental leave for people who owned their own businesses.

And then there’d been his worry for Amanda and the baby, which had kept him up far too many nights after her trip to the ER two months before.

But all was well. She was healthy. Her son was perfect. She bent low and whispered in his tiny little ear. “You’re the most beautiful baby in the world.”

“You said that about Sophie.” Mark’s voice was sleep-roughed. He shifted to face her. “And Madi.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was praying.” He swung his feet to the floor and stretched. “You were right. They were all the most beautiful babies ever.”

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