Page 79 of The Decoy

Charles extends his hand. “Take care of my daughter, Brody.”

I reach out, wrapping my hand around his and gripping it with firm, solid strength that seals the pact. “With my life, Charles.”

The drive back across the river to our home in Alpine, New Jersey, is quiet.

The chaotic storm that had been brewing all afternoon has finally burned out. Ellis sits in the passenger seat, her coat folded over her lap, her hand resting over mine on the console.

As we clear the George Washington Bridge, leaving the glittery lights of Manhattan behind us, I glance over at her profile that’s illuminated by the passing streetlights, her expression thoughtful, serene, and entirely relaxed for the first time in days.

“You’re quiet over there, Princess,” I say softly, my thumb stroking the back of her hand.

“I’m just thinking,” she replies, turning her head to look at me with a soft smile playing on her lips. “About what you said back there in my father's study.”

“Which part?” I ask, a faint grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Ellis lets out a soft laugh that fills the quiet cab. “Umm, the part about marrying me.”

My grin fades, replaced by a deeper steady warmth. I keep one hand on the wheel, guiding the heavy truck off the highway onto the quiet tree-lined roads of Alpine.

“I wasn’t playing around, Ellis,” I say, my voice dropping to a serious tone. “I meant every single word I said in that room.”

Ellis shifts slightly in her seat, turning her body toward me as much as her bump will allow. “I know you did, Brody, but we haven’t actually talked about it. Not really. Everything has happened so fast. The pregnancy, the move, the drama with Dylan.”

“It doesn’t feel fast to me,” I tell her honestly, turning the truck down our gated driveway. “It feels right, it feels the same way it did when you moved into my house.”

I pull the truck into the three-car garage and shut off the ignition; the quiet of the New Jersey night envelopes us instantly. I turn in my seat, reaching out to hold her face with my hand, my thumb gently tracing the line of her cheekbone.

“Ellis,” I say, looking straight into her beautiful eyes. “It’s important to me. It’s important that when our son takes his first breath, he enters the world where his mother and father are standing together with the same name. I want him to be a Vaughn. I want you to be a Vaughn because you belong to me and I belong to you.”

Ellis stares at me, her eyes glistening in the damn garage light. She reaches up, placing her hand over mine on her cheek, leaning her face into my palm.

“I want that too," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I want to be your wife, Brody. I want our son to have your name. I want to look down at my hand and know that the best man I’ve ever known is mine forever.”

“Are you saying yes?” I ask, a slow, unstoppable smile spreading across my face. “Because I technically haven’t asked yet.”

“I’m saying, yes,” she answers happily, a tear escaping her eye and rolling over my thumb. “If you were to officially ask me, if we can make it work before this little guy decides to make his entrance, I want to be married before he gets here.”

“Then we’ll make it work,” I promise, leaning across the console to press a deep, tender kiss against her lips.

Twenty minutes later, the house is quiet.

I walk Ellis upstairs, help her out of her shoes and dress, and get her settled into her favorite gray lounge pants and one of my black thermal shirts. While she’s in the bathroom washing her face, I tiptoe down to the kitchen.

I open the pantry, reaching into the top cabinet where I keep a secret stash hidden behind the organic protein powders, and I pull out an unopened, mega-size bag of Sour Patch Kids, which are her absolute favorite candy in the world. And one thing she’s craved relentlessly at two o’clock in the morning for the last few months.

I walk over and grab two small dog treats from the jar on the counter, whistling quietly as I head toward the living room.

Buck and Oshie come trotting into the kitchen, their nails clicking softly on the hardwood floors, their tails thumping against the cabinets in eager anticipation.

“Okay, you two,” I whisper down between them. “Listen up. This is a high priority play.”

I pull out a red ring box and satin ribbon from my pocket. I’ve been keeping it hidden in my nightstand drawer for three weeks. Inside sits a flawless, three-carat oval-cut diamond set on a thin, delicate platinum band, timeless and powerful, just like Ellis. I carefully tie the ribbon around the box, then tie it to Buck’s collar, positioning it right over his chest, then pat Oshie on the head.

“Oshie, you carry the heavy load of being secondary security,” I instruct softly, giving them both a treat, their tails wagging furiously as they swallow their biscuits in one bite and follow me.

I walk back up the staircase with the two dogs trotting at my heels.

When I reach the master bedroom doorway, Ellis stands near the foot of our king-size bed, gently rubbing lavender lotion into her hands. Her dark hair is tied up in a loose, messy bun, a few soft strands framing her face, her bare bump pushing comfortably against the fabric of my thermal shirt. She looks peaceful, soft, and impossibly beautiful.