Ava stepped outside when, after lunch, Aleksander carried a tired Olivia to her room for a nap.

It had stopped snowing and the clouds had thinned in the sky, yet the cold had not abated.

She stood on the back porch where her breath came out in streams of white smoke. Her skin tingled with the cold but she didn’t go back inside or even button her cardigan. She needed to feel it. Breathing in the thin, icy air was like breathing in thousands of tiny needles.

How she had avoided answering the little girl’s proposal for her to marry her father, Ava didn’t know, but somehow Aleksander had managed to distract her.

Ava climbed down the steps to the snow-covered lake. Heavy sheets of mist rose from the lake, enveloping her body. As she wondered about the unfairness of life, the light began to change, softening the sparkling turquoise and teal tones in the water.

She looked behind herself.

Twilight crept up over the mountains with purple impatience that stained the walls of The Cottage a dusky crimson contrasting beautifully with the orange glow coming from the windows.

She already knew that as long as he wanted her, the promise she made to Liv was a promise she would keep.

Downstairs, the grandfather clock announced the hours, interrupting Aleksander’s concentration.

With some surprise, Aleksander noticed that he’d worked solidly for nearly a full hour.

With the last gong from the clock, he rubbed a hand over his eyes. This is my life now. A life that was disappearing along with Olivia, in the countdown of minutes, days, months.

The vulnerability was too difficult to bear alone. His body couldn’t handle the hole in his chest. It made everything hurt. His only solace was that with all his money, he could provide his daughter with a measure of peace of mind before she died—even if he were to buy a wife for himself.

Each day he was fortunate to have Olivia in his life would be cherished. Her happiness meant more to him than his own.

He walked to the veranda and saw Ava hugging herself, sitting on a bench on the lake’s edge, her hair tossing restlessly in the wind.

What was she thinking as she gazed blindly out to sea? He knew what he’d been thinking when he made love to her: a peaceful, happy nothing.

And if Ava will be willing to be my wife…

He grabbed one of his coats from his walk-in closet and he climbed down the side stairs to the lake.

He loved having her in his arms. He loved having her in his bed. He loved talking to her, listening to her wit and her observations, simply breathing her in.

It wasn’t the thought of having sex again with Ava—repeatedly—that made him make his decision. It was the thought that for the first time in months, he might have found someone he appreciated, admired, and felt completely at peace with—well, that is, when his body wasn’t tied in horny knots.

He had let Ava in when he shouldn’t have and he couldn’t afford to lose her right now. Yes, Liv. I will marry Ava. But not because you asked, but because I need her. And if that brings you happiness, so much the better.

He wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. He’d never experienced anything like this.

But…if Ava doesn’t agree?

He cleared his throat to announce his presence and put his spare coat over her shoulders.

She brushed the back of her hands over her face and then lifted her head so that she could look into Aleksander’s eyes. “This is the hardest time of the year when you’ve lost somebody you love.”

There was no platitude to that truth.

He sat on the stone bench beside her and ran his thumb under her eye, wiping a last tear before it could slip away. Pulling her into his arms, he placed a kiss on her temple, understanding and sharing the sadness.

Her head sought the warm curve of his shoulder and she let herself be held, nestled in his coat and in his embrace.

“I know this is none of my business,” he said softly, after a while. “But I’m curious about what you meant earlier…about your husband? When you said he wasn’t able to stay.”

Ava blinked. There had been a time when she’d been so angry with Otto that she wouldn’t have been able to talk about him without the use of expletives and a furious tone, but time and distance had rubbed all the hard edges off her outrage. “We were not…legally married.”

“What was it that he wasn’t there for?”

“Otto couldn’t cope with Emma’s diagnosis,” she said, pushing her arms in his coat sleeves and closing it around her body. “At least, that was what he said. That he couldn’t handle the doctor visits, the hospital stays, the tests. I never would have described him as a weak person”—she shifted her weight as she tried to formulate some sort of excuse for her ex’s behavior—“but you know how tough it is.” She shrugged and raised her face to gaze at him. “Some people can’t handle it.”

His fingers pushed her wind-blown hair from her face. “You mean…”

Her mouth trembled for a moment, before she said evenly, “He left us, Aleksander.”

He had seen Ava cheerfully chatty, as talkative as a jaybird. He’d seen her silently powerful while she was treating Olivia. He didn’t like seeing her vulnerable. It made him feel odd inside—hotly angry on her behalf, and enraged that someone had made her feel that way.

“The bastard.”

“Oh, at first he tried. I’ll give him that. But when Emma fell really ill, he moved out.” But then, he had never really moved in.

He grew more uncomfortable by the second, feeling the rage deepen in his gut. The fact that she loved a man—and a despicable man, at that—and could still defend him burned his skin all the way to the bone. “What kind of man could leave his family at a time like that?”

We weren’t his family. “He said he couldn’t take seeing our daughter so sick every single day. He came to the hospital a time or two, but as Emma’s condition worsened, he just…stopped.” Her sigh was resigned. “He stopped calling. Stopped visiting…”

Ava didn’t know what else to say, so she lifted one shoulder, hoping to convey that there was really nothing left to say. Aleksander didn’t need to know that Otto, who was married to someone else at that time, had not only showed up at Emma’s funeral, but had accepted every ounce of sympathy he could wring out of their university colleagues and friends.

And then, with the earth still fresh over Emma’s coffin, he’d had the audacity to suggest he move back into their rented apartment so the two of them could start over.

Ava had thought the disgust and hatred smoldering inside her would burn her alive and never in her life had she felt more like punching someone in the face.

She hadn’t punched him as she wished, but she had called him every name she could think of before telling him to never contact her again.

Aleksander placed one hand on her shoulder and cupped her jaw with the other. “You must have felt so alone.”

Ava bit hard on her bottom lip, the physical pain keeping her focused on the here and now. She just nodded and looked away. “I made a fool of myself, I can admit that now.”

He wanted to kiss her now, not for the sensual pleasure of it, but for comfort. To assure her that not all men were untrustworthy liars. But that kiss would be more for his benefit than hers.

“Let’s get one thing straight here,” he said in gentle reproach. “The only mistake you made was trusting the bastard. He’s the fool.”

Ava sighed. “That’s a refreshing opinion. Most people either say or imply that I should have known better.”

“Not this people.” Then Aleksander’s features twisted with anguish. “Was Emma aware that her father abandoned her? And you?”

“She was just a baby…” She broke off.

And then he remembered something and the anger he was already feeling turned into a red wrath. “Was this guy the one who didn’t tell you he was married?”

Aleksander had always thought of himself as a peaceful sort of man, but right then it was all he could do to keep from plowing his fist through the bench. He knew she had been hurt, but not how badly. So badly that tonight may well have been the first time she had given the memory a firm shake. “Was he, Ava?”

His grayish-green eyes burned with a hard, cold light. He seemed transformed from the warm, gentle man Ava had come to know.

“If you must know, yes, he was,” she said in a clipped tone and then looked away, ashamed, preparing for the questions she’d heard before: How it was possible for such a cretin to have duped her? How could she have fallen for such a man?

“I wish I could fucking tear the bastard apart, kill him with my bare hands.”

She wasn’t prepared for the way her heart rolled over slow in her chest at his words, or for the kiss, the way his mouth closed firmly over hers.

Not a kiss of passion, but a kiss of loyalty and devotion. A kiss full of promises.

“I don’t know how to handle this,” she murmured, cupping his face in her hands. “You’re Olivia’s father and she is my patient. I don’t have any precedent here. I need rules, Aleksander. Solid rules.”

The distress that had him calling her ex names just a second before drained from his handsome face. The emotion that took its place was powerful.

“I’m not your patient. We’re grown-ups who connected before this situation was in place. Our feelings for each other were a pre-existing condition, to put it in medical terms. And I want to be with you,” he said.

“I care about you. So much. It’s a problem for me, Alek, caring so much for you.”

The turn of conversation left him baffled. “Why?”

“It’s easier just to live my life. You’ve had experience there,” she added, pushing her hair out of her face when the wind carried it. “It’s easier just to live your life than to take that step again, that risk again. And it’s scary when you can’t seem to stop yourself from taking the step. I can’t seem to stop myself.”

“I’m not sure either of us would’ve felt this way if we’d met a few years ago. If we’d been the people we were then. You pulled yourself out of a pit, Ava.”

“My work helps; the kids I help, helps.”

“I don’t think people take help unless they’re ready for it, whether they know it or not. You were ready for it.” He shrugged. “I think we should talk.”

Her hands fell from his face with his serious tone. “About?”

He took a breath, and staring into her eyes, blurted, “So, Nevada has no waiting period for marriage. We can apply for a license with as little identification as my driver license and your passport, pay as little as fifty dollars, and get married immediately.”

She stared at him confused. “What?”

“Olivia wants me to get married. To you. It seems it gives her some peace of mind. We have a good chemistry together, plus I enjoy your company.” In just the ten to fifteen seconds he’d spent contemplating it, his gaze had cleared a little. “So, do you want to get married to me?”

Ava’s smile waned.

This wasn’t what she had imagined.

In all romantic movies, the dashing hero proposed on bended knee, flourishing a shiny and traditional engagement ring, which always magically fit the blushing and elated bride-to-be. Sometimes the ring was concealed in a cupcake, which always made Ava wonder what might happen if it were to be accidentally swallowed.

“One thing I’ve always admired about you was your devotion to Olivia,” she finally whispered. “But, Alek, you can’t possibly be considering Olivia’s proposal.”

“Oh, yes, I am,” he answered very seriously. He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. His fingers interlocked together and he stared at his shiny Ferragamo boots in silence for a long time. “Not because Olivia asked Santa. Or because she proposed. Because it’s what I want, Ava. I want you. I think next Saturday would be a perfect day.”

“I…” But Ava knew in her heart that no amount of reasoning would make him decide otherwise.

And then, even hating himself for it, he delivered his final ace. “If it were Emma, wouldn’t you do the same?”

Her blue eyes clung to his and she licked her lips slowly. Gradually, though, his words sunk in. Yes, I would.

She smiled tentatively. “But shouldn’t we need a month—or something around—for the prenup and all that?”

“Another option is to trust me.”

Hearing him say it, knowing she had yet to be honest with him, made her miserable. “I do trust you.”

“Not where it gets sticky, you don’t. I don’t blame you for that, either. Men have let you down. Your father left your mother. Then there’s the fucking bastard who left you and Emma. That’s letting down big-time. You cared about him, trusted him, let him in, then when you needed him most, he showed his true colors.”

“I don’t dwell on it.”

“That’s not very healthy of you, Dr. Larsen, because it’s there.”

When he let that hang in the air, she admitted defeat. “Yes, it’s there. I don’t dwell on it, but it’s there.”

“You don’t dwell because it’s unproductive and you like to produce.”

“Interesting way to put it.” Her lips curved again.

“And true.”

“And you don’t dwell because you know it’s their losses.”

“You’re right,” she agreed with a sigh. “But, Aleksander, even though I don’t know why, I do trust you.”

He took her hand and idly played with her wedding finger and asked softly, “So…is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes,” she confirmed.

“Good. I think it’s safe to say that we might as well enjoy a brief spell of calm before Olivia is let loose.” Aleksander picked up both of her hands in his. “If we embark on this journey, there’s no going back.”

Love is worth it. Her grandmother’s words came back to her. “I know.”

“And you comprehend all the implications, everything you’ll put at risk? Hell, everything you might outright sacrifice, the moment you marry me?”

My career! She heard the words he didn’t say out loud and still she nodded. Love is worth it.

“Marriage is a series of compromises, and at its best, the compromises create a partnership.” He squeezed her hands. “Whatever happens, I’ll be by your side. I won’t let you down.”

Then a thought crossed her mind. Unnerved by revealing the secret she had kept, she rose from the bench, needing some space. “I have a request, though. Well, it’s more accurate to say I need to tell you something.”

His stomach churned like it was set on the spin cycle of a washing machine, but he swept her hand at her. “The floor is all yours, doctor.”

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we know next to nothing,” she began, thrusting her hands in the pockets of his coat so he couldn’t see them trembling. “Some diseases are yet a mystery. The body itself is scarcely understood. And in all that dark ignorance, we’re sometimes granted a rare moment of illumination. And hope.”

He felt quite peculiar. His chest was too tight; his eyes stung as she explained in detail the research she had started on Olivia’s files; her request to Dr. Follett for another evaluation of Olivia for a potential surgery and his denial; the secret messages she had exchanged with Dr. Goldenstein.

“If there was a small—tiny really—chance that Olivia’s tumor could be surgically removed, would you be willing to take it?” She made a short motion toward him, reaching for his hand before pulling it back. He was so quiet and still, she half expected him to explode at any second. “There might be still hope for Olivia.”

He stood up and joined her, grabbing her shoulders and squeezing it to the point of hurt. His eyes were narrowed, his face haggard, hope and fear clogging his throat. Can I even dare to hope?

All Aleksander had wanted those last months was to hear what she was saying but it suddenly felt too much. He shook his head vehemently, denying the expectation which surged. False hope is worse than no hope.

“I believe there is a chance, Alek. And if I am going to be Olivia’s stepmom, I vote for grabbing this chance with all our might.”

He closed his eyes and let out a sound between a breath and a sob. Not trusting himself, he paced away, raking a hand through his hair. “How crappy do you want me to feel?”

She considered it, considered him. Considered Olivia. “Pretty crappy about not taking a chance.”

“Mission accomplished,” he added mulishly, turning his back on her.

“Alek.” She circled him, took his face in her hands. “You promised not to let me down. If you decide to take this chance, I am returning the promise.”

Emotion glimmered inside his intense eyes, his jaw set. It was the look of a man who had been knocked down by fate many more times than he could count, but was determined to get up and face it again. And this time he would win.

“How soon can he operate?” he finally asked.

She felt her chest expand with a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding. “He still needs to go over her old exams but he is hopeful.”

He hesitated but then pulled her into his embrace. He bent his head, staring straight into the face of the woman who was promising him a bright future. He compromised, “There is one condition: Olivia has the last word.”

She could feel the whisper of his breath and it was sweeter and more invigorating than any spirits. “I agree.”

“In this case, a ring is in order,” he whispered in her lips, before taking them in a bruising kiss.

Before, he had kissed her because he wanted to give her hope. Now, he kissed her because she was giving it back to him.

He seized the moment, tasting her, drinking her, breathing her. Taking. And giving it all back to her.

The kiss before hadn’t lasted long—just a brief exchange of air and emotions. And, suddenly, it was imperative that this kiss be more than just a kiss.

It had to mean a lifetime of promises.

It had to mean forevermore.