Page 136 of The Locksmith's Promise

My questions died in my throat.

“See,” he murmured. “I thought you’d be wearing my ring by now. And I imagined us married.”

“Oh,” I breathed, folding my hands under my chin as I made my way back to him. “Sounds exactly like my dream.”

He tipped his chin up. “You want to be my wife, Maggie?”

I nodded fervently, my throat closed tight.

He opened the box and took out the ring. “Give me your hand, baby.”

I whipped off my glove and held out my left hand, anticipation making me tremble as my eyes welled with tears.

He grasped my hand in his and slipped the ring over my knuckle.

Remaining on his knee, he smiled up at me. “Maggie, you’ve just made me the happiest man on earth. You are my dream, Maggie, just you.

“I want to give you everything,” he continued, “but I’m going to start by building you a house.

“With flowerbeds for your tulips and a bright, sunshine yellow, front door.

“I’m going to give you a key made of solid gold.”

My tears streamed down my face as his hold on my hand tightened.

His dark eyes flashed. “And we’re going to be a family. You, me, Corwin,” he chuckled, his eyes lighting up, “and Jeff.”

I nodded and took a breath. Covering my womb with my free hand, I added, “And baby Bax.”

He nodded up at me, his smile fixed, eyes searching mine.

“Did you—what?” he stuttered as his smile slowly faded.

My eyes stung at the naked hope in his. “We’re having a baby, Bax.”

Dropping my hand, he grasped my hips and jerked me forward until his forehead met my tummy.

Fingers digging into my flesh, shoulders shaking, he pressed his face tightly against me.

I cupped the back of his head and held him, murmuring my love for him while my tears baptized his tawny head.

His back rose and fell with his deep breath and he rose to his feet. Taking me in his arms, he curled his body over mine, cradled my head in his hand, and kissed me.

My entire body melted into his arms as he drew back and tipped his forehead down to meet mine.

Harsh lines bracketed his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Thank you, Maggie.” He huffed out a laugh. “I hope you’re not expecting a long engagement.”

I laughed, but three weeks later, on a Thursday evening, we stood together in front of our friends and family at the front of a tiny church in Mistlevale.

And while Miller and Corwin stood on Baxter’s right, and Jenny was gracious enough to stand on my left, when it came time to say our vows, it was just me and him.

Me and him against the world.

He took my hands in his. Eyes soft and warm, he held my gaze as he answered the age-old questions.

Welled up when I did the same.

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