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“What color are her pajamas?” he asked from the doorway.
“Daffodil,” she said, handing the baby to him. “Can I change, or are you dreaming of ripping this gorgeous waitress outfit off me?”
“I can rip anything off you, gorgeous.” He moved aside so that she could go to her room.
“Then I better not pick my favorite shirt.” She walked past him, unbuttoning the white shirt as she went.
“I wish I could remember that night in the hotel, when I must have ripped this off of you.” He watched her pull the shirt down and toss it into the dirty clothes hamper.
“I won’t tell you about it; it’ll just depress you.” Grinning, she grabbed a T-shirt from her drawer. It said nothing; it was just a blue shirt. Chris smiled. He liked that he could rip this shirt off her, because if it had any writing on it, she wouldn’t let him.
“Because it was so good or bad?” His eyes were on her body as she shimmied out of her black pants.
“It was good,” she admitted, grabbing for sweatpants in her dresser.
“It’s always been good.” He leaned against the door, loving that she was his now.
Tossing the sweatpants on the bed, she took Poppy from him, hugged the baby to her, and sat on the bed. Poppy sucked on her thumb as he watched Agatha pull all three rings off her fingers and toss them on the mint green strip of the comforter. Then she looked at them, slowly rocking the baby in her arms.
“There are things you should know before you give me these back.” Her eyes looked at him and then back to the ring pile.
With his heart in his throat he asked, “What?”
She picked up the rings and laid them in a line, a few inches between each one. Picking up the class ring, she said, “In high school during that party when we had sex, it was my first time. I never told you that.”
“I kind of figured that out,” he admitted.
“I, um, got pregnant that night, but I miscarried at four months. It messed me up for a while. I had sex with a lot of guys for a few years. I partied and drank and did a lot of messed-up shit. I didn’t get my life back on track for years. Most of the time, I didn’t even try.” She pushed the ring farther from her.
Grief raced through him. How had Violet known? How had he not even considered that he was the cause of her pain when there was even a hint she was pregnant back then? Going through that sort of trauma would make anyone act out, and Agatha had just done what she thought she needed to erase the pain. But it couldn’t be erased; it could only be lessened. And she had done it all without him.
Crouching down by the bed, he pushed the ring back in line. “I wasn’t a boy scout myself. I played football and let everything else slide. I was that guy, and I regret letting that happen. That night in the hotel room wasn’t the only one I can’t remember. We both went through some bad years.”
Pushing the promise ring with the large ruby on it, she said, “That night in the hotel room, I knew you were too drunk to really consent, but I wanted you again. Just one more time. The next morning, I missed an appointment with a publishing house. I sabotaged myself.”
“I try not to think I was the biggest asshole in that hotel room that night. I wanted you, and I took you. And I was left not even knowing what happened.” He pushed the ring back in the line. Then he picked it up and put it back on her hand, where it belonged.
Her arms tightened around Poppy’s still body, and he heard her take a deep breath and push the engagement ring forward. “Poppy is yours.”
Unable to stop his smile, he picked up the ring and placed it on her finger where he had first put it, where it belonged. “I know. When you said you were Christie, I knew she was mine. I felt like she was mine from day one. I wanted her to be mine the moment you said she was yours.”
Not that he would let himself do anything but hope they had created this amazing child, that something good had come from them just once in the past. But knowing the truth made his heart sore. He had a daughter. He had a daughter with the woman he loved.
“Do you hate me? I gave her away. I just gave her to strangers.” A tear slid from her eye and disappeared into Poppy’s dark hair.
“No, you did what you thought was best for her. We weren’t ready yet, either of us. Now we are, and we have her, and we have each other. We’re together, all three of us. And we’ll have more.” He caught the next tear and wiped it away with his thumb.
Every word he said was true. He had loved the baby since day one, even when he had no idea who the father was. When Agatha had said she was Christie, he had wondered if it was possible that she was his. There were little things about Poppy that reminded him of himself. That Agatha was finally admitting it made his heart soar. He had a daughter, a perfect daughter with the perfect woman. And they were together. How they came to be a family was a long, winding road, but it was over, and they were family. Never again would they be separated.
“More? As in more kids?” She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“At least another one, maybe four more. All girls and wild like their aunts. Poppy has a lot to live up to as a female in the Lovely family.” He ran his hand lightly down his daughter’s back.
“She’s also a Lowell,” Agatha said.
“She’s a Lovely Lowell. Poppy Agatha Lovely Lowell.” Taking Poppy from Agatha, he wrapped her in his arms and said her name again, making the baby smile.
“Not Agatha,” Agatha protested with a frown. “Poppy Seraphina Lovely Lowell.”
