The courtroom looks much less impressive than the ones they show on movies. It looks more like a meeting room in a middle school than an imposing place of legal power. Tristan, Cole, and myself all wear our nicest clothes while we stand with the attorney Tristan has been paying to work on all the official paperwork and behind-the-scenes things necessary to move Cole’s case forward quickly and keep him in our custody as long as possible.

“He has five more minutes,” says the judge, who is leaning on his elbows while he taps away at a computer on his desk.

He’s talking about Cole’s father, who had one last chance to hire an attorney and file an appeal today. If he doesn’t show up, Cole is ours once and for all. Tristan’s lawyer assured me that even if Cole’s father does appeal, it will really only buy him time. The final step of his appeal process would be a very thorough look into his life, which Tristan is sure would turn up drugs in his system and in his home.

When the judge checks his watch five minutes later and nods his head to one of the members of the court, relief surges through me.

“That’s it?” I ask our attorney.

He nods. “Just a few formalities, and then you will be the legal guardians of Cole. Congratulations.”

I squeeze Tristan and Cole’s hands as we wait for the judge to read off some scripted lines and pass the final ruling. When we leave the courthouse and get into Tristan’s car, we do it as an official family. I’m surprised to see Cole’s eyes are watering when we get in the car.

I lean over to him as I’m strapping him in his car seat.

“Hey, are you okay, Cole?” I ask.

He nods his head.

“Are you sad?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m happy you got me,” he says.

My heart feels like it melts into a puddle in my chest and I lean in to hug him as much as I can with him in his car seat. “I am too, baby.”

Once I sit beside Tristan, I feel a strange unease settle over me. I told him I loved him and he said the same to me the other night at club Purity, but I can’t stop worrying that something is going to happen to come between us or that he’ll change his mind and decide he really does want to end things now that we won custody of Cole. After all, that was the original plan.

I decide not to say anything about it on the ride home and settle for looking out the window and enjoying the moment for as long as I can because that small voice in my head keeps telling me it could be the last time we’re all together as a family.

We put Cole down for his nap when we get home and Tristan is unusually quiet while he prepares sandwiches for us to have lunch. I watch his broad back as he stands by the kitchen counter, enjoying the way his black shirt seems to struggle to contain him. The winter sunlight comes in through the far wall of the kitchen, which is nothing but an expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s even a light snowfall starting outside, which is coating everything in a fresh, white powder that looks so soft I’m tempted to go out and run in it like a little kid.

It all feels perfect. All of it except that nagging feeling that Tristan is waiting to talk about something important. Maybe he had second thoughts about what he said to me at the club, or he’s realizing he doesn’t actually want to be a parent. I’m probably being paranoid, but no amount of self-talk seems to quiet the doubt stirring inside me.

“Stephanie, will you come outside for a minute?” he asks suddenly.

I nod my head, lips pressed together because I’m too scared to say anything. I grab my coat and slip it on, giving the half-finished sandwich he was making a look as I follow him outside. What is the hurry, Tristan?

He leads me into the backyard, which I’ve had a few weeks to come to appreciate since unofficially moving in with him. Though I guess since I had to take an official leave of absence from work, the status of my move-in is getting more official by the day. Taking care of Cole will only keep me out of work for another year or so until he’s ready for preschool, and then I’ll be ready to go back to my job. I realize I’m letting my mind wander because I don’t want to focus on what Tristan could possibly be bringing me all the way out here for in the snow.

“Is everything okay?” I ask when he takes me past a building the size of a normal family’s house, which is for the groundskeeper a few months of the year.

“Just a little farther,” he says, face betraying no hint of emotion.

“If you’re going to chop me up into little pieces, you could have had the decency to do it somewhere warm at least. Maybe even let me get a little tipsy first.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that, but I can tell from the way he half-falters in his step that he’s tempted to say something.

“If you do kill me, I’m sorry about the overdue cell phone bill. They’ll probably come after you for it.”

He finally half-turns with an exasperated look on his face. “I’m not going to murder you, Stephanie. I just wanted to show you this.” He gestures out toward a grassy meadow behind the groundskeeper’s building flanked by snow-dusted trees.

“Wow,” I say, impressed but still a little confused. “It’s really pretty out here. But why…”

When I turn back to face him, he’s waiting for me on one knee with a ring held between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s where I want to marry you,” he says.

“Pretend marry like you talked about before?”

“Not pretend. Stephanie Holland, will you marry me?”

I’m too stunned to speak for several moments. My vision blurs with tears and I find myself falling into him reflexively, forgetting he was holding the ring and knocking it to the ground with my clumsiness. “Yes,” I say thickly. “Yes.”

He plucks the ring up from the ground and carefully slides it on my finger. My eyes widen when I take in the ring. I’m surprised by how much I love it. Maybe I’m biased because I’d probably love anything Tristan got me, especially an engagement ring, but it’s the perfect blend of size and design. He didn’t try to make it a showpiece to broadcast to the world that I’m engaged to a billionaire, but he made sure it was nice enough that even an untrained eye could tell it’s a beautiful and precious ring.

After I’ve hugged him for a few seconds, I pull back and slap him across the face, jabbing a finger toward him. “What were you thinking scaring me like that? I thought you were going to bring me out here to break up with me.”

He pulls his head back in surprise. “Break up with you? I meant what I said, Stephanie. I love you. I don’t have to understand how it happened or why. All I need to know is that when I’m with you it feels right.”

“I feel it too,” I say. “So,” I ask, biting my lip. “How does the whole dominant and submissive thing work if we’re married?”

“What do you mean?” he asks. “Just like it did before, except now I know I’ve got all the time in the world to introduce you to every last tool in the arsenal. You’ll be my wife outside the bedroom and my submissive when the doors are closed. That simple. Of course,” he says with a grin. “I’ll admit I may just want you the good old fashioned way from time to time, too.”

I thread my fingers behind his neck and wrap my legs around him. “You can have me however you want. As long as it’s you, I’m happy.”