Page 83 of Code Name: Tank
“I love you too,” I said back.
“Did she say yes? Can we come down now?” Candy shouted.
“Yes to both, Mom,” said Tank. Seconds later, it sounded like a herd of moose racing down the stairs as Tank’s whole family hurried over to congratulate and hug us.
“Easy,” said Tank’s dad when two-year-old Riley tried to crawl onto my lap.
“She’s okay,” I said, shifting her so she rested against my right side instead of the left. I held up my hand to show her the ring.
“Pwetty,” she said, smiling, then resting her head on my shoulder.
After everyone else went to bed, Tank and I stayed up talking, discussing our future, our dreams, and the life we wanted to build together. When we finally went to bed, I fell asleep with Tank’s arms around me, the weight of the ring on my finger, and joy in my heart.
Christmas morning dawnedbright and clear, and the world outside was a winter wonderland. I woke to the sound of excited children’s voices running down the stairs and Tank’s lips pressing gentle kisses to my shoulder.
“Merry Christmas, fiancée,” he murmured.
“Merry Christmas, fiancé,” I replied, turning in his arms to kiss him properly. “We better get out there, though. I don’t want to miss a minute of watching your nieces and nephew opening gifts.”
“Soon to be yours too,” he said, helping me out of bed, not that I needed him to, but I loved it when he did.
Tank dressed quickly while I put on a robe. We went out to the living room and found Powell and Sophie bouncing with excitement near the Christmas tree, while Riley toddled around in festive-looking pajamas. Candy was already in the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon rolls and coffee filling the air.
“Merry Christmas!” Powell shouted when he saw us. “Can we open presents now? Please?”
“After breakfast, buddy,” Tank said, ruffling his nephew’s hair.
“But, Uncle Tank—” Sophie started, then stopped, her eyes widening as she noticed my left hand. “Aunt Piper!” She ran over to hug me. “Can I see your ring again?”
“Of course,” I said, holding my hand out.
“Who cares about rings?” muttered Powell. “I want to open presents.”
Candy walked over to the stairs. “General! Cameron! Carter! Come on. It’s Christmas morning,” she called up.
“Coming, dear,” said Bradley, who we all called General more often than not. Even to the kids, he was General Grandpa.
We were in the middle of breakfast when a knock at the front door interrupted our celebration. Tank frowned, checking his watch.
“Expecting someone?” Carter asked.
“No,” Tank replied, standing. “I’ll get it.”
He returned a few moments later with a woman I hadn’t expected to see today—my mother.
“Mom?” I gasped, jumping up so quickly I nearly knocked over my chair.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she said, her voice tentative. “I hope I’m not intruding. Candy called and invited me.”
The room fell silent as I stared at her, processing her unexpected arrival. She looked older than when I’d last seen hera few months ago, and there was something different about her demeanor—a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before.
“Of course you’re not intruding,” Tank said smoothly, stepping forward. “I’m sorry. What should I call you?”
“Tamara is fine,” she said before our eyes met again.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Mom. Where’s?—”
“We’re celebrating,” Powell shouted over me. “Uncle Tank and Aunt Piper are getting married!”
