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“Everything okay?” Lacy asks when I return to her side—the place I don’t plan on straying far from ever again.
“Everything’s perfect.” I stroke down her arm that cradles our daughter, who’s fallen asleep at Lacy’s breast.
Her tired smile fades. “Well, it’s not perfect.”
My gut seizes, and I move to wrap an arm around her shoulders, ready to protect her however I can. “What’s wrong?”
On a heavy sigh, she says, “For so long, Travis and Kelly have been my only true family. Sure, Oz and the rest of them at the club are an extended one, though fleeting and not entirely mine. But this, the three of us, is something altogether different.”
Her voice wobbles, and I hold back my own tears while trying to decipher how any of what she’s saying is bad. I know she’s not second-guessing our relationship, which could only mean she’s been hurt in some way.
“I know we haven’t picked a name for her yet.” She dips her chin to our sleeping angel. “But when we fill out that birth certificate, I already know she’s going to have your last name.”
“Lace.” My voice is hoarse, the clog of emotion near to choking. “I don’t understand the problem.”
Eyes swimming with tears and voice full of fire, she says, “I’m the only one who’s not a Kincaide.”
A smile cracks my lips and I exhale through a laugh. “That’s only a problem for as long as you want it to be.”
“Really?”
“Are you dropping a hint, or is this your way of asking me to marry you?”
Despite her obvious exhaustion, her gaze turns ferocious. “You’re supposed to ask me.”
God, she’s spectacular when she gets feisty.
“Fuck, Lace… I’ve wanted to make you mine from the moment I met you. All I’ve wanted is to drag you to the altar.”
“Then? Why haven’t you asked?”
The smile curving my lips is as genuine as it is devious. “Because I haven’t figured out a way that doesn’t sound like a demand. And I’m not sure your brother won’t try to kill me when he finds out.”
She laughs and our daughter stirs, stretching her tiny hand over the curve of Lacy’s bare breast.
Distracted by the miracle we’ve created, and despite the diamond digging into my thigh through my pocket, the subject of marriage is dropped.
At least, for now.
I will ask her when the time is right. Not because of obligation, or expectations, or even because she wants me to. It will be an act of giving—a show of my devotion.
Because as much as she and our child are mine…I’m alsotheirs.
