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She blinked back tears before nodding. “Yes, I’ll marry both of you.”
I let out a pent-up breath and finally managed to join Elle on the floor, but on only one knee. In a smooth motion, I lined up the ring with her finger and asked, “So you’ll make me the happiest man alive?”
She nodded, grinning, and held out her hand. “Yes, oh yes,” she whispered in a shaky voice.
I pushed the ring down firmly, anticipating the day when a white gold wedding band would join it. “I know you love Elle, and so do I, but I want to marry you because I love you, Lindsay. With all my heart and soul.”
A tear escaped then, but I wasn’t worried, because she started laughing—a joyous sound. “I love you too, Ben.”
I swept her into my arms and gave her a long, thorough kiss. I might have forgotten my head and kept going if Elle hadn’t interrupted us.
“Does this mean I can have a sister, Lindsay?”
Lindsay laughed. “I can’t control if it’s a brother or sister, but I’d be happy to give you a sibling, if your dad is willing.”
I grinned, flashing my eyes at Lindsay. “I’m always ready for that, love.”
“Merry Christmas!” Elle shouted and danced around the room in her red dress. “A baby sister for Christmas!”
EPILOGUE
LINDSAY
ONE YEAR LATER
“She’s finally asleep,” whispered Elle, her voice betraying a hint of tiredness.
I grinned. “You didn’t have to wait up.”
She set her shoulders. “I didn’t want to miss story time, and I’m her big sister. I have to take care of her.”
I nodded as I carefully pulled the sleeping Gwen from my breast and stood up from the rocking chair. She didn’t stir as I laid her in the crib and stroked a finger over her thick head of dark curls. She had her daddy’s color, but my texture. She also had gorgeous blue eyes and would be a heartbreaker someday.
Just like Elle, who looked different from her half-sister in many ways, but shared the same lips and stubborn expression when she’d set her mind to something. I could recognize similar traits in my eight-week-old daughter.
“Let’s get you to bed.” I picked up the tattered paperback copy of one of the Harry Potter books we were re-reading at Elle’s insistence, this time with Gwen included. I couldn’t convince her the baby was unlikely to remember any of it.
Elle followed me without protest after ensuring the monitor was on. She was diligent about such things, and sometimes displayed some overly adult tendencies, but she was much more childlike than she had been a year ago.
I halted for a second as I followed her into her room. Had it really been just over a year since I’d come back into the Hudsons’ lives? Sure looked like it, with the huge Christmas tree in Rockefeller Square, and the presents piled under the nearly-as-big tree here on the sixty-sixth floor of the Imperial.
And almost an entire year that I had been Mrs. Hudson? Yes, but some days felt like it was just yesterday, while others seemed like we’d been a happy family forever. Of course, Elle’s mom will always be her mom. Ashe is in rehab again, trying to make it work, and I hope she does this time.
Knowing there was one more Hudson I wanted to make happy tonight, I put Elle to bed as fast as I could without depriving her of attention. “Santa is coming tonight, so be a good girl and get to sleep soon,” I told her. I When her eyes fell shut, I pressed a kiss to her forehead and hurried down the hallway.
As expected, I found my husband in his office. He was much better about working late and bringing home work these days, but he’d told me well in advance that he’d have to work this evening.
I intended to disrupt his work, and I had no remorse about it. I wore a robe and nothing else. It was modest and discreet—at least until I opened his door and tossed it on the back of the chair across from his seat. Walking naked in front of him didn’t bother me at all these days, even though I still had a bit of a tummy from giving birth. He’d seen me in every state of dress or undress, and he’d been there for all the ups a
nd downs in the past year that it was impossible to be insecure about how much he desired me.
Especially when he was so eager to show it as often as possible. I moved to his chair and plopped myself onto his lap. “It’s bedtime.”
He raised a brow, looking at a stack of papers on his desk. His twitching lips gave him away, but he was good at sounding serious when he said, “I have work to do.”
I wriggled enough to part my thighs and ease one of his hands between them. “Yes, you do.”
He groaned, and his façade fell away. “It can wait.”
