I laugh through the tears.
“No, keep going. You are doing very well.”
His mouth almost curves.
“I want all of it. With you.”
Something inside me settles.
All my life, family meant criticism wrapped in concern. Love with conditions. A constant awareness that I could be better if I were quieter, thinner, easier, different.
I wanted a loving family so badly that eventually I stopped admitting it, even to myself.
Now Zain stands in front of me offering exactly that.
Not perfection.
A choice.
A home.
Him.
“Yes.”
He freezes.
I squeeze his hands.
“Yes, Zain. I will marry you.”
For one second, he only stares at me.
Then he pulls me against him and kisses me.
I wrap my arms around his neck, laughing into his mouth while tears still wet my cheeks.
I know exactly where I belong.
Epilogue
Kaia
Oneyearlater
There are three things I know with absolute certainty.
First, marriage has not made Zain Carson less bossy.
Second, he still drinks coffee that tastes like punishment.
Third, he is terrible at pretending he is not emotional.
I stand in the middle of our kitchen with one hand resting low on my stomach while he stares at the pregnancy test on the counter.
For a man who has walked into burning buildings, he looks remarkably unprepared for two pink lines.
“Well?” I ask.
