“No!” the girls shouted.
Sophie broke into tears. “Aren’t you and Wance gonna get mawwied?” The speech impediment she’d outgrown months ago made a sudden reappearance. “I want Wance to be my daddy.”
“We’re still going to get married,” Lance said. “We just might wait a little while.”
“I don’t see how we can pull a wedding together in a week and a half,” Morgan began. “I haven’t even thought about it. There are about twenty details I’ve let go. Olivia is still in the hospital—”
Gianna cut her off. “She’ll be out in a day or so.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to put it off until you’re feeling better?” Morgan asked.
“Absolutely not!” Gianna slid off her stool. “Where’s my bag?” She found her backpack and brought it to the island. After pulling out her computer, she opened it. “Everything is done. I called the caterer from the hospital and gave them the final head count.”
“You worked on the wedding planning from your hospital bed?” Morgan leaned back, overwhelmed.
“Yep.” Gianna tilted her head. “It was better than staring at the ceiling. I’m all right, Morgan.” She gestured to her chest. “This is just a minor setback. I’m still ten times healthier than when I moved in with you. This disease is my reality, but I won’t let it keep me from living. And that includes going to your wedding.”
The girls surrounded Morgan’s chair.
“You hafta mawwy Wance.” Sophie’s eyes welled with tears.
Ava and Mia nodded.
Morgan and Lance shared a glance. He shrugged. “I want to marry you, and seriously, our lives will always be filled with chaos. If we wait for a quiet moment, it might never happen.”
“I still have the final fitting for my dress.” Morgan reached for her phone to check her calendar.
“It’s on Friday, and you look like you’ve lost weight.” Gianna frowned.
Grandpa passed Morgan the bread basket. “Use butter.”
Warmth filled Morgan. “If you’re sure it won’t be a hardship . . .”
“Since you’ve put me on light duty, I’ll definitely have time to review the final details.” Gianna motioned to her laptop.
“OK, then. I guess we’re getting married next week.” Morgan smiled, joy filling her heart. Lance was right. Chaos was their hobby. Their lives were never going to be settled. But that was OK. She loved the chaos of family life.
The girls cheered and rushed to Lance for hugs. The rest of the evening was blissfully quiet. Morgan and Lance went to bed right after the kids and slept for ten straight hours.
Chapter Forty-Eight
JOHN H ROGERS
CAPT
US ARMY
IRAQ
NOV 14, 1982
JUL 10, 2015
BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER
Well, this is awkward.
A week later, Lance stared at the tombstone of Morgan’s late husband.
Ava and Mia had wanted to visit their father and show him the dresses Morgan had bought them for the wedding. They wore matching blue dresses, shiny black shoes, and mini peacoats. Sophie had dressed in her zombie costume and yellow ladybug rain boots.
Morgan was busy with last-minute wedding preparations. Mac was grading papers, and Stella was tied up with the FBI. During the past week, the bodies of all five of Cliff Franklin’s additional victims had been found. But for Lance, the case was over. Since all he had to do on Saturday was put on his suit and show up on time, he’d volunteered to escort the girls to the cemetery.
Ava was the only one of the three girls who remembered their father. She faced the headstone and smoothed the blue fabric of her poofy dress. “Mommy let me pick the color.”
Mia stood next to her sister, but her attention was on Sophie, who twirled in a circle a few feet away. Her zombie costume was getting more ragged by the day. But she was happy. Mia moved off to spin in circles with her little sister.
Ava stopped fussing with her dress and looked up at Lance. The space between her brows furrowed into the vertical thinking-line she’d inherited from her mother. “Can Daddy really hear me?”
Angling his body so he could keep one eye on the younger girls, Lance crouched next to Ava. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She turned back to the tombstone. “I want to talk to him, but it feels weird. He doesn’t answer.”
Lance carefully considered his response. “Do you remember the funeral?”
Ava’s frown deepened. “A little. Soldiers shot guns. I covered my ears and cried. It was scary.” She shivered.
“I’ll bet it was.” Lance wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Is he even here?” she asked, looking around.
If he told Ava her father was buried under the ground, she’d have nightmares for a week. But she asked to visit her father now and then. At seven, she was just beginning to understand the concept of death. Lance didn’t want to take any comfort away that she received from her visits to the cemetery.
“Do you like coming here?”
She tilted her head, thinking. “Sometimes.”
“Then you should come when you want to, but you can talk to your daddy anytime. You don’t need to be here. Your daddy is wherever you are. He’s always with you.” Lance tapped the center of his own chest. “Right in here.”
“Grandpa said he went to heaven.”
“I’m sure he did.”
What was she really asking? Was he flubbing this?
In the last six months, Lance had learned one good lesson regarding children. They were direct.
“Ava, what’s wrong?” he asked.
Tears filled her eyes. Her lip quivered. “At school, Emily said my daddy would be mad at me because I’m happy I’m going to have you as a new daddy.” She sniffed. “I don’t want him to be mad at me.”
Emily, Emily, Emily.
Why were kids so mean? How long had Ava been thinking about this?
“Emily is wrong,” Lance said firmly. “Your daddy loves you, and he wants you to be happy. End of story.”
Ava brightened. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Lance nodded.
Ava threw her arms around his neck. Then she skipped off to join her sisters, twirling in circles on the grass.
He faced the headstone again. Now what? Just leaving seemed wrong. If John hadn’t died, Lance knew Morgan would still be married to—and in love with—him. Yet, Lance felt no jealousy toward the man who had once held Morgan’s heart. Wherever John was, he was there without the woman he had loved, something Lance did not even want to imagine.
Lance bowed his head. “I’m sorry you died, John. I love your girls as if they were my own. I love Morgan too much for words, and I promise to take care of all of them. Nothing will be as important for the rest of my life.”
With a lump in his throat the size of a softball, he turned away from the headstone, gathered the girls, and herded them toward the minivan. As he buckled seat belts and car seats, Lance felt as if he’d passed a very important parenthood test.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Morgan walked onto the sand at Scarlet Beach. Her grandfather’s arm was looped through hers. In his other hand, he held his cane. He stubbornly refused to lean any weight on her. In front of them, rows of folding chairs faced the lake. The afternoon sun shimmered on the water.
Ava, Mia, and Sophie lined up in matching blue dresses. Ava was in love with the poof and lace and patent leather.
“Are you ready?” Stella asked. She wore a knee-length sheath dress the same shade as the girls’ dresses. Morgan smoothed her own dress, a column of white silk that hugged her body to just below her knees.
Wait. Where are Sophie’s shoes? Morgan smiled. It didn’t matter. The afternoon was warm and sunny.
At the end of the aisle, Lance waited for her in his dark-blue suit. Sharp stood at his side, as always. Morgan spotted Gianna and Olivia in the front row. Olivia held an iPad so Lance
’s mother could watch the ceremony via video chat.
“Mommy, can I go?” Ava asked in a whisper loud enough to make all the guests smile.
Morgan nodded.
Ava walked down the aisle, tossing rose petals in front of her. Mia followed, her steps slow and measured, just like they’d practiced the day before. Sophie turned in circles and pelted the guests with flower petals.
Stella walked behind the girls to stand in front with the minister.
Morgan’s gaze went back to Lance and stayed there. His eyes held hers as she walked down the aisle toward him. Grandpa sniffed as he patted Morgan and Lance both on the shoulders; then he went to his seat in the front row between Morgan’s other sister, Peyton, and her brother, Ian. Stella took her place next to Morgan, and the girls clustered around their feet.
With three young kids, they’d opted for a short and sweet ceremony. The minister read the traditional opening, then said, “Lance and Morgan wrote their own vows.”
Lance faced her. “I promise to be your lover, companion, and friend. I will be your partner in parenthood, your ally in conflict, and your accomplice in mischief. I will make sure you always have coffee in the morning and donuts on Saturday, and I will love you with all my heart for the rest of my life.”
Morgan had expected to cry, but joy filled her as she squeezed Lance’s hand. “I will never take you for granted. I promise to be your lover, your friend, your sidekick—and your lawyer when necessary. I will be forever grateful to be your wife. Today, I give you my hand. You already have my heart.”
They said their I dos and exchanged rings. Before Morgan could blink, the minister proclaimed them man and wife, and Lance kissed her.
It seemed like a dream. Three years before, her life had been shattered. Now it was rebuilt, and her heart was full.
Lance lifted his head. His blue eyes sparkled with happiness—and maybe a tear—as he smiled and kissed her again. She wound her arms around his neck and held on.
The girls cheered.
Sophie pried them apart. “That’s enough kissing.”
“It’s never enough kissing.” Lance put Sophie on his back and scooped Mia and Ava into his arms. Music played and kids raced around the tent that had been set up on the beach for the tables and chairs. The girls were a little disappointed there was no bouncy castle or ponies, but Gianna had hired a face painter and organized some games for the kids.
Morgan dragged Gianna away from the children and shoved a plate of food into her hands. “Sit and eat. You need to conserve your strength.”
“I’m feeling much better.” But Gianna sat and forked pasta into her mouth.
Sharp tugged Olivia to the table. He turned his chair to face Gianna’s. “So, I have some news for you. The day Olivia was released from the hospital, we went down to the transplant center and got tested. I don’t know if they told you, but the whole family went. The center called yesterday. It seems I’m a match for you. There are still a bunch of tests I have to have, but as long as I pass, I can give you a kidney.”
Gianna put down her fork. Tears flowed down her face. “I can’t . . . I don’t . . .”
Morgan’s knees went weak. The family had been devastated to learn none of them were the right blood type, and Sharp hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t even known he’d gone to the center, not that it surprised her.
Sharp patted Gianna’s arm. “It’s OK. You don’t have to say anything.”
She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.
Sharp froze for a few seconds, then returned the hug, patting her back. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I should say no.” Gianna sniffed. “Taking your kidney feels selfish.”
“Why the hell would you say no?” Sharp frowned. “I have two, and I only need one. It’s basic math.”
The decision was anything but basic.
Morgan’s eyes brimmed with tears. She hadn’t cried during her own wedding, but Sharp’s generosity did her in.
“Thank you, Sharp,” she said.
He nodded. “Friends help each other. It’s what we do.”
The rest of the reception flew by. Morgan held Lance’s hand as they said goodbye to the guests.
The caterer shooed Morgan away from the tent when she attempted to organize the cleanup. The sun was setting as they loaded the girls into the minivan. The kids were exhausted. Sophie fell asleep on the drive home. Lance carried her to bed and changed her into her pajamas. Morgan helped Ava and Mia change and brush their teeth. Then she tucked them into bed.
“I’m going to bed too.” Grandpa kissed Morgan and disappeared.
“And me.” Gianna hugged them both and went to her room.
Morgan went into the kitchen in her wedding dress and bare feet.
Lance opened the fridge and took out a bottle of champagne and a container of leftover pizza. “I’m starving.” He’d taken off his jacket and tie. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up.
“Me too. I didn’t have time to eat anything at the wedding.” She took a slice from the box and ate it cold.
Lance opened the champagne and poured two glasses. “Is this the right vintage for pizza?”
“Everything goes with pizza.” Morgan lifted a glass. “To us.”
“To us.” Lance touched his glass to hers.
Morgan’s heart overflowed with happiness. She felt almost giddy with it.
“It was a perfect day.” Morgan sipped. Pizza and champagne were the perfect combination to end it.
“It was.” Lance set his glass down. “I have something for you.” He took an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
She opened it. “It’s a brochure for Italy.”
He nodded. “That’s where we’re going. For eight days.”
“Eight days? But the kids . . .”
Lance held up a hand. “Peyton is staying here with the kids. She wants to spend some time with your grandfather anyway. She says she’s missed him.”
“Eight days in Italy.” Morgan opened the brochure. “Rome, Florence, and Venice. It feels like a dream come true.”
Her whole life felt like a dream come true.
She suddenly remembered her gift for him. She grabbed his hand and dragged him from the kitchen, through the living room, and into the den. “The space is a little tight right now, but we’ll be getting new furniture when the addition is finished.”
She had shoved the furniture against one wall to make room for a baby grand piano. Lance froze, disbelief in his eyes. “How?”
“I had it delivered today. Our neighbor let them in.” Morgan felt her smile to her soul. “I worked really hard to make this a surprise.”
“You did a great job. I had no idea.”
“I wanted to show you how much I love you by giving you something that speaks to your heart.”
“I love the piano.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “But you speak to my heart. You are all I need.”
Their lips met in a warm and unhurried kiss, the kind of kiss they could look forward to enjoying for the rest of their lives.
Morgan pulled away and smiled. “Are you going to try it?”
Lance set his champagne glass on the piano and sat down. He lightly touched a few keys, then began to play “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
Morgan sat next to him, drank her champagne, and listened to his easy tenor.
He finished and turned to her, pressing his lips to hers again. “Thank you.”
She kissed him back. “Promise to play for me often?”
“There isn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t do for you. I meant every word I said today. I will love you, heart and soul, for the rest of my life.”
Morgan looped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. Lifting her mouth from his, she said, “Back atcha.”
Lance pulled her onto his lap. “And now that we’re alone, I can show you how much I love you.”
Happiness shift
ed to heat, and Morgan whispered in his ear, “Maybe we should go to bed.”
“I heard music,” a small voice said. Oohs and aahs followed.
Morgan turned to see the girls standing in the doorway. She rested her forehead on Lance’s shoulder. “It’s my fault. I wanted you to play.”
Lance was shaking with laughter. He kissed her nose and said two words: “Eight days.”
“They’re kissing again.” Sophie shook her head. Rushing to them, she pushed Morgan aside and climbed onto the bench between her and Lance. “Let me play.”
“And me.”
Ava and Mia crowded Lance. Morgan slid off the piano bench to make room for the girls. Lance mouthed “sorry” over the kids’ heads.
Morgan could wait. In two days, she’d have him all to herself for eight whole days. Then they’d have the rest of their lives together.
The kids would have to get used to lots of kissing.
Acknowledgments
It truly takes a team to publish a book. As always, credit goes to my agent, Jill Marsal, for nine years of unwavering support and great advice. I’m thankful for the entire team at Montlake Romance, especially my managing editor, Anh Schluep, and my developmental editor, Charlotte Herscher. Special thanks to Rayna Vause and Leanne Sparks, for help with various technical details, and to Kendra Elliot, for helping me push through those days when I need to write but don’t want to.
About the Author
Photo © 2016 Jared Gruenwald Photography
#1 Amazon Charts and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Melinda Leigh is a fully recovered banker. A lifelong lover of books, she started writing as a way to preserve her sanity when her youngest child entered first grade. During the next few years, she joined Romance Writers of America, learned a few things about writing a novel, and decided the process was way more fun than analyzing financial statements. Melinda’s debut novel, She Can Run, was nominated for Best First Novel by the International Thriller Writers. She’s also garnered Golden Leaf and Silver Falchion Awards, along with nominations for two RITAs and three Daphne du Maurier Awards. Her other novels include She Can Tell, She Can Scream, She Can Hide, She Can Kill, Midnight Exposure, Midnight Sacrifice, Midnight Betrayal, Midnight Obsession, Hour of Need, Minutes to Kill, Seconds to Live, Say You’re Sorry, Her Last Goodbye, Bones Don’t Lie, What I’ve Done, and Secrets Never Die. She holds a second-degree black belt in Kenpo karate; teaches women’s self-defense; and lives in a messy house with her husband, two teenagers, a couple of dogs, and two rescue cats.
Save Your Breath Page 28