by Lili Valente
I exhale. “Parenting is going to kick their asses.”
“It is,” she agrees, tone softening as she adds, “But they’re so in love. They’re all in with each other and committed to being the best parents they can be. And maybe I’m a hopeless optimist, but if any pair of dumb kids has a shot at happily ever after, I think it’s our dumb kids.”
My lips twitch, but I can’t find a smile. Not now. Not yet. “I love them, Vi. Both of them. I hope Addie will forgive me for the way I acted.”
She waves a hand, sweeping that away. “You’re already forgiven. Addie doesn’t hold grudges.”
“And what about you?” I ask, easing closer. “Think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“Of course,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek. “But maybe it’s best if we go back to being friends.”
“Don’t say that,” I beg, my heart lurching into my throat and sticking there. “Please don’t. We’re so good together, Violet. You know we are.”
“We are, but—”
“And I can be better,” I swear, cutting her off before she can take another step down this unthinkable road. “I know I’m an old dog, but it’s not too late for me, Vi. I can change. I can back off the drill sergeant routine. I can learn to listen more and closer and harder. I can be a better man.”
“You’re already the man of my dreams,” she says, her voice breaking, “But what about the kids? How can we help them weather all the hard stuff that’s coming if we’re all caught up in our own relationship drama?”
“We won’t be.” I slice a hand through the air. “That’s over.”
She swipes at her damp cheeks with a crooked smile. “Maybe. Or maybe this is just beginning. We could end up crashing and burning, Deacon, and I imagine that would make family events with our grandbaby pretty uncomfortable.”
“So we’re uncomfortable. So what?” I ask, brows bunching tight. “It’s worth the risk, Violet. At least for me. I’d sure as hell rather spend the next thirty years cursing myself for fucking it up with you than give up now and never know if this is what I think it is.”
“What do you think it is?” she asks, hope flickering in her eyes.
I lift a hand, brushing my fingers across her forehead to her temple, the feel of her pulse beneath my fingertips enough to tell me all is right with the world—because she’s here and alive and beside me, this woman who has thrown open every door and window in my heart, sending her light streaming in.
“The big one,” I say, “the road I never thought I’d find, not at my age, not after being lost in the wilderness for so long.” I swallow hard, the ache in my throat spreading to my chest. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Violet, and all I’ll ever need. I love you so much, baby. And if you’ll let me, I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you were right to take a chance on me. On us.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you…” Her hand flutters to her throat. “Was that…”
“It was, but I should do it right.” I drop to one knee in the dirt behind my pickup truck as her fingers come to cover her mouth. “Violet Boden, will you marry me? Let me love you as well as you deserve?”
She blinks fast, her hands still cupped over her mouth, muffling her voice. “I can’t say yes. The kids will think we’re crazy.”
“Forget the kids. This isn’t about the kids or anyone else. This is about you. What do you want, Vi?” I ask, praying that I haven’t pushed too hard too soon.
She holds my gaze for a long beat, while my heart slams against my ribs and my palms sweat and my knee starts to ache because I’m twenty years older than the last time I did this. But I know things now that I didn’t back then. I know that women like Violet are one in a million, that love is the most precious thing on earth, and that sometimes you have to toss out all of your carefully laid plans and follow your heart.
“Because I want you,” I add softly. “Just you. I want your smile and your laughter and your tears. I want the cranky face you make when you’re hungry and the mess you leave in the kitchen every time you step foot in it.”
She huffs, and her fingers slide down to fist against her chest, revealing the sweet curve of her lips.
“I want you with your hands covered in clay from your latest masterpiece and want you wrapped in a hundred scarves because you hate the cold wind on your neck. I want your thoughts and your fears and your questions,” I continue. “Because you ask the best questions. Questions that make me think and feel and realize how much I was missing before I met you. You’re the adventure I never saw coming, Vi, but I can’t imagine turning back now.”
“Me, either,” she says, fresh tears shining in her eyes.
“Is that a yes?” I ask.
“Yes,” she whispers, setting off an explosion of relief in my chest. “I want all of you, too. For as long as I can get it.”
“Thank God.” I stand, and she falls into me, hugging me tight while I wrap her up in my arms and hold on for dear life. That was too close. Way too fucking close. “I don’t have a ring,” I murmur into her hair, “but I’ll get one. Tomorrow. Want to come help me pick it out? I want it to be something you never want to take off.”
She pulls back, cupping my face in her hands with a smile. “You could give me a ring from a Crackerjack box, and I’d never want to take it off. But yes. And while we’re there, I’ll get you a ring, too. Mark you as my territory so Busty McChattykins will back off and give you some space to breathe while you’re on duty.”
It takes me a second to connect the dots. When I do, I grin. “You mean Karen?”
“Of course I mean Karen.” She winks. “Poor woman. She has no clue you like women with itty-bitties.”
“I just like you. Every part of you,” I say, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Love you. And I’d be honored to wear your ring.”
Violet’s smile stretches even wider. “God, we’re really doing this, aren’t we? We’re going to get married.”
“We are.” I nod. “As soon you’re ready.”
“What about Christmas Eve?” she asks, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I mean, that gives us a couple of weeks to get everything in order. Shouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“Let’s do it. We can elope tomorrow if you want. I’m ready, Vi. I’m not scared.”
Her smile softens. “Good. Me, either. But I think we should wait until spring. I want to marry you barefoot on the beach.” She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips with a sigh. “But I should warn you…there might still be drama on the horizon. I went to meet Grant last night, to tell him that Addie was pregnant.”
I wince. “I take it that didn’t go well.”
“No, it didn’t. Grant is not on board with being a grandfather and a new dad again at the same time.”
“What?” I ask.
“Apparently he and his wife are also pregnant.”
“Shit. He’s fifty, right?”
“Fifty-one,” she says.
I blow air through pursed lips. “I know men start families at that age, but even now, at forty-five, I can’t imagine going back to the baby days.”
“Grant feels the same way.” Her lips curve in a wry smile. “He’s so scared he decided it was time to cut and run, leaving Tracey and the baby to figure things out on their own while he and I got back together.”
Storm clouds filled with thunder and lightning move onto my face at the thought.
Violet laughs. “Yeah. That was my reaction, too. Not a chance in hell.”
“Did he honestly think there would be?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. But Grant isn’t used to rejection. I’m sure it’s going to make him less pleasant to deal with than usual. He’s going to give us all a hard time—me, you, Addie, Jacob.” She motions to the cages in the bed of the truck. “The salamanders, too, probably, just to make life extra difficult.”
“I’m not scared of your ex.”
“He can be a pain in the ass,” she warns. “And
I know it won’t be easy for you, helping defend the kids’ decisions when you’re not on board with their choices, either. But they’re not going to change their minds, Deacon, and they need us.”
I nod. “I know. And I’m going to be there for them. I won’t even say I told you so when they have their first new-baby meltdown.”
“At least not more than once or twice,” she teases, wincing as she brings a hand to her stomach.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just a little hung over. I only had two glasses of wine, but sometimes that’s all it takes on an empty stomach. I didn’t eat much yesterday except ice cream. I was too sad and stressed.”
“I’m sorry.” I take her hand, pressing it between both of mine.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she says, adding with a laugh. “Or not all your fault, anyway. I’m stressed about the kids, too. Just because I’ve decided to support them doesn’t mean I’m not worried. It’s going to be a huge transition. For all of us.”
“But we’ll make it through,” I promise. “We’ll all just have to love each other a little harder for the next couple of years.”
“I like hard love.” She leans closer with a pointed arch of her brow.
“I heard that about you.” I cop a feel of her ass, so grateful to have my hands on her again that I can’t stop grinning. “I need to go drop some salamanders in my barn, but after that, I’d be honored to make myself available for your hard-loving needs, my lady.”
“I’d like to drop some salamanders in your barn,” she purrs.
“Oh yeah? What’s that even mean?” My laugh turns to a hum of contentment as she presses her lips to mine. Damn, she can kiss. Her kisses are the best kisses, her lips the best lips, and they’re both mine for keeps.
I’m one lucky bastard. There’s no doubt in my mind.
Even when Violet ends up in the bathroom half the night, with what appears to be a nasty case of food poisoning instead of a hangover, I feel lucky to be the person who gets to pull her hair into a ponytail and fetch a washcloth for her head. And when Grant sues her for full custody of Adriana early Monday morning—a senseless waste of money and heartache that will inevitably be thrown out in court once the judge realizes that Adriana is eighteen, an incredible young woman, and more than capable of making her own decisions—I take the crazy in stride and keep on smiling.
I’ve got a hundred reasons to smile, including Jacob agreeing to apply to a community college near Cal Poly so he can keep working toward his Ag Business degree while Addie starts her freshman year—and the hug he gives me after I tell him I’m proud of him for putting his family first.
I love that kid of mine. And his fiancée. And his brother. And my future wife. She’s the best person I know, even when she’s facing me down over the breakfast table with fire in her eyes and a white stick in her hand.
A white stick with two pink lines in the window display…
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I say, toast and knife falling from my hands to clatter onto my nearly empty plate.
“I’m not kidding, Mr. Alleged Vasectomy.” Her eyes narrow as she points the test at my chest and takes aim. “Not even a little bit.”
I lift my arms into the air, fingers spread wide. “Nothing alleged about it. I had a vasectomy seven years ago, Violet. I swear to God. There’s no way we can be pregnant.”
But we are pregnant.
Pink lines don’t lie.
Violet makes an appointment with her doctor, and I make one with mine, where, after a few tests, I’m informed that my snipped pieces have apparently found their way back to each other, the infamous Hunter family baby-maker refusing to be shut down without a fight.
I apologize to Violet—profusely—over waffles at the diner afterward and promise, “However you want to handle this, I’m on board. Whatever you need from me, even if it’s just for me to shut up until you make up your mind.”
“I’ve already made up my mind,” she says, looking far more peaceful than she did when she left for her appointment this morning. “The doctor said my hormone levels are great, and I’m in perfect health, and there’s no reason I shouldn’t have as easy a pregnancy as I had with the girls. At least once the morning and evening sickness wears off in a month or two. So…I’m going to go for it. I’m going to have the baby.”
My shoulders sag away from my ears, the relief so intense it makes my head swim for a second.
“But if you’re not ready to be a dad again at forty-six, I understand,” she continues. “This isn’t what either of us signed up for when—”
I silence her with a kiss, a slow, deep, doubt-killing kiss that leaves us both smiling like fools. “We’re going to have a baby,” she whispers, her eyes dancing. “A baby who will be the same age as our grandbaby.”
“We’re insane,” I say, grin still firmly in place.
“We are,” she cheerfully agrees. “And I couldn’t be happier.”
EPILOGUE
VIOLET
Three years later
The only thing better than a toddler birthday party?
A triple toddler birthday party, complete with pony rides, baby goats, and a bunny-petting area filled with so many beautiful fuzzy things our little ones can’t contain their excitement.
“Bunnies!” Nelson shouts for the hundredth time, jumping up and down on chubby legs as Grant and Tracey do their best to clean the goat poo off his hands before he heads in to love on the rabbits. Nelson is that kid—the one who always manages to stick his hands in the worst possible thing at the worst possible time—but we love him to bits and pieces anyway.
He’s the sweetest half-brother my girls could ask for, and I thank God every day that Tracey managed to convince Grant to pull his head out of his ass and play nice.
She’s grown on me in a big way, so much so that I don’t hesitate to press extra wipes into her hand as I collect the dirty ones from Grant with a carefully folded napkin.
“Thank you,” he says, relief flooding into his eyes.
“No problem.” I grin as I toss the wipes into the can by the picnic tables, where my precious grandbaby is still buried in her birthday cake with no sign of coming up for air. It’s in her hair, all over her face, and dripping off her chin to stain her pink dress blue and purple.
“Are you having fun playing cake monster, Bella Bee?” I lean down, laughing as Bella flings her hands into the air with a wild giggle.
“Don’t encourage her, Mom,” Addie says, dodging a flying glob of icing. “Or I’m never going to get her over to the pony rides.”
“I don’t like ponies, I like cake,” Bella announces, as stubborn as her mother and just as beautiful, with her daddy’s bright green eyes and raven curls I love to twirl around my fingers when we’re curled up for a Nana and Bella nap.
“But you like bunnies, so why don’t we go see the bunnies?” Jacob asks, tossing his beer in the recycling can and pressing a kiss to Addie’s temple. “Go grab a beer, babe, I’ll take over.”
“She’s not twenty-one until tomorrow,” I admonish, earning a jab in the ribs from Addie.
“Keep your mouth shut, woman,” she hisses as I draw her into my arms for a hard hug. “I’ve earned a beer. Finals almost killed me.”
“But you got all A’s, my brilliant girl.” I kiss the top of her head. “Because you are almost as smart as your little sister.”
She laughs and returns the embrace. “No, way. I’m never going to be that smart. Delilah is a genius. An evil genius, but…”
“Lies,” I tut, as I set Addie loose to fetch her celebratory beer. “Delilah is an angel. Aren’t you an angel, D?”
“No, I’m a unicorn. Don’t be silly, Mama!” Delilah, who has formed a deep and possibly unholy bond with a gray baby goat with a black spot over one eye, shouts from the other side of the bouncy house, where she and her daddy are holding a giant bag of baby carrots hostage.
Dash bounds around them, snatching finger-sized orange treats from th
e goats and trembling from barely-contained excitement. Our rescue pup may only have three good legs, but he’s the happiest creature I’ve ever met and has been Delilah’s most devoted protector since the day she was born.
“Clearly, a unicorn,” Deacon says, dryly, motioning to Delilah’s forehead. “I mean, just look at her.”
As usual, my daughter is wearing her hair in an odd braid/ponytail/horn smack-dab in the middle of her head just like Addie did when she was little. But not even her eccentric choice in hairstyle can detract from her cherub face. She’s a perfect tiny, chubby, feminine version of her father, from her blue eyes to her wavy brown hair to her surprisingly intense upper body strength, which is presently on display as she gathers her goat buddy under one arm and goes looking for another.
“Make sure she doesn’t drop it, Deacon,” I say, reaching for the roll of paper towels to help Jacob get Bella cleaned up and ready for the bunnies.
“On it, baby,” he says, smiling at me as he trails after the apple of his eye. Delilah has him wrapped around her finger. So does Bella. And Deacon is the best, most devoted daddy and granddaddy in the world.
Not to mention the best husband.
Once upon a time, back when Grant and I were raising the girls, I thought I had it all. And though I wouldn’t trade those years for anything, now I know how much sweeter happily ever after can be when you’re with the person who was meant for you. We’re different in so many ways, but there’s no longer a sliver of doubt that I was made for this man and he was made for me, or that Delilah is the best unexpected blessing any couple could ask for.
But I still take my birth control pills every morning. Even though Deacon’s doctor swears he’s never seen a vasectomy reverse itself twice.
When it comes to the Hunter men’s legendary virility, I’m not taking any chances.