I’m almost home, thought Erik as he drove across the Croatan Sound, sped through Roanoke Island, and crossed the Washington Baum Bridge to the Banks. Turning right onto Route 12 at Nags Head, he felt a rush of anticipation. He was only an hour from Laire and Ava Grace now. Thank God.

He hadn’t spoken to his parents since the conversation in their room on Tuesday morning. They were taking his threat seriously and keeping their distance.

As promised, he’d resigned his position at Rexford & Rexford, LLC quietly, without causing a stir of any kind. For now, for the foreseeable future, he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with his parents. He didn’t trust them around Laire or Ava Grace, especially in light of the fact that his mother had manipulated the situation that night even worse than he’d imagined. He’d always known that she was dangerous, but some part of her knew that Laire was carrying her grandchild, and she’d still turned her away.

He couldn’t imagine a situation in which he’d welcome his parents back into his life or ever regard them as his family again. He’d made his choice: he chose his daughter and her mother without exception.

But while disowning his parents had given him a freedom that felt right, saying good-bye to Hillary felt far less victorious. She’d visited his office this afternoon as he packed up the last of his belongings.

“Hey, you,” she said, knocking softly on his open door, “gettin’ ready to go?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“I, uh, I heard from Daddy today.”

“That right?”

“He didn’t know, Erik. I swear to you, he didn’t know that Laire came by that Thanksgivin’. Didn’t know that she was pregnant. Fancy never told him.”

He remembered the shock on his father’s face. “I believe you. But they’re a package deal, Hills, and you know it. Always have been. The fabulous Governor and Mrs. Rexford. If I let him back in my life, she’ll figure out a way to weasel in too, and I can’t have it.”

“I get it, Erik. I do,” she said, closing the door to afford them some privacy. “I get why you don’t want Fancy in your life.” She sat down on the couch, looking up at him. “But Daddy? He didn’t do anythin’.”

“Exactly. He never did anythin’,” said Erik. “No matter what she did, he never checked her, never called her out, just turned a blind eye no matter who she hurt.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Hills. Maybe . . . maybe someday down the line, Daddy and I can talk again. I just need some space right now. I need to keep my girls safe.”

“Right,” she said. “But quittin’ your job? Leavin’ Raleigh? It’s rash, Erik. This is your home.”

“No, Hills.” He looked up from packing some manila file folders into a cardboard box. “Laire and Ava Grace are my home.”

“Couldn’t they move here? To Raleigh?”

“How are you not gettin’ this?” he snapped. “I don’t want them in Raleigh. I don’t want them near here.”

“I do get it,” she said miserably. “What about your apartment?”

“The buildin’ had a waiting list a mile long. They already found me a tenant.”

“Need help packin’ up?”

“Hired people. Everythin’ will be put in storage tomorrow until I figure out what comes next.”

“What does come next?”

“I’ll get a job once we’re settled somewhere.”

“Where? On the Outer Banks?” she demanded, her voice shrieking a little on the word Banks.”

Erik stopped what he was doing and looked at her closely—at the red spots in her cheeks and the glistening of her eyes. He stepped around his desk and sat down next to her on the couch.

“Maybe,” he said slowly. “Or maybe I’ll live off my trust for a while.”

“Won’t last forever,” she said.

“Yeah, it will,” he said gently.

Hillary, who had the same trust of five million dollars gifted from their maternal grandfather, had nodded. “Yeah. It will.”

“Laire’s a designer,” he said. “She has a job in New York. I’m guessin’ . . . I mean, maybe we’ll head North.”

“You’re not goin’ to New York, Erik!” she exclaimed, her face aghast. “We’re Southerners.”

“Things change,” he said. “If that’s where she needs to be, that’s where I need to be too.”

“And what exactly will you do in New York?

“Pass the bar. Practice law. Get married. Have more kids. Be happy.”

“Just like that?”

He nodded, pulling her into a hug. “Just like that, little sister. Stop worryin’.”

“I do worry.” She drew away, looking up at him with glistening eyes. “I worry so much. Erik . . . We’ll never see each other.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “We’ll make sure that’s not true. I want you to know Laire—to love her as much as I do. And Hills, you’re an aunt! My daughter needs family, and you’re all I’ve got to share with her. Promise me we’ll make this work? No matter where we are.”

She inhaled deeply, wiping away her tears as she embraced her brother again. “I promise, Erik. We’ll figure it out.” She sniffled, offering him an enormous plastic bag. “There’s about two dozen penguins in here. Every single one I could get my hands on. You tell her they’re all from Aunt Hillary. No takin’ credit. Promise?”

He kissed her cheek and smiled. “I promise.”

His heart clenched for a brief moment as he thought of stepping into the elevator and waving good-bye to his sister. But once he’d gotten into his car, which was full of several boxes and suitcases, and headed for Hatteras, any remaining apprehension over his decision to leave his life in Raleigh had quickly faded.

His conversation with his parents had been horrible, and he still didn’t know if reconciliation would ever be in the cards. Forgiving his mother for what she’d done would take years—maybe a lifetime. And protecting his new family from his birth family felt like an absolute necessity at this point in time.

Leaving his job, vacating his apartment, and leasing it to a new tenant had led to mountains of paperwork, and saying good-bye to Hillary had been wrenching.

But as he crossed the bridge to the Outer Banks, all he felt was freedom and hope. Freedom to follow his dream and create the family he longed for with Laire and Ava Grace. And hope—so much hope that after six years of cold, aching loneliness, a life full of warmth and love with his girls awaited.

He stepped on the gas, cracking the window and inhaling the cold, brackish air, closer, with every mile, to those he loved most in the world.

***

Ava Grace had fallen asleep an hour ago, even though she’d tried hard to stay awake to see her dad. Curled up on the couch, with a homemade “Welcome Home!” card in her lap, she’d finally succumbed to sleep, and Laire had carried her into her bedroom and closed the door. She placed the card on Ava Grace’s bedside table. It would keep until the morning.

Erik texted two hours ago that he’d get dinner on the road so she didn’t prepare anything for them, but she had a bottle of Champagne on ice, and the condo was immaculate for his arrival, except for Ava Grace’s dinner dishes, which she decided to tackle now.

Her body, deprived of his for three long days, was ravenously hungry for their reunion, and she kept looking out the kitchen window over the sink, hoping to see his headlights as he pulled into the parking lot.

She knew that things had not gone well with his parents. His mother had admitted to using Vanessa as a way to keep Erik and Laire apart, and also to knowing that Laire was likely telling the truth about being pregnant with his child. In response, Erik had essentially disowned them, forbidding them to ever reach out to him or to try to know their granddaughter.

It was a terrible thing that Fancy Rexford had done to her son and granddaughter, but Laire, as a mother of her own precious child, had split feelings about her actions. Did she forgive Fancy for threatening and frightening a pregnant eighteen-year-old? No. But she understood that inherent, visceral need of a mother to protect her child from evil or danger, no matter what.

Still, she grieved that Erik wouldn’t have a relationship with his parents. She hoped that, over time, maybe he would learn to forgive them, and perhaps—if they were truly penitent and eager to know their granddaughter in a real and loving way—he’d be able to find a place for his parents, however controlled, in their life.

Mending family relationships didn’t happen overnight. It had taken Laire six years to return to Corey, after all. Sometimes it took years. Sometimes a lifetime. And sometimes that healing was simply impossible.

As she thought back to her reunion with her father and sisters on Tuesday, she knew that their relationships with one another would never be close again. Her father had welcomed her home, but after a brief reunion filled with hugs and kisses and tears, it turned out that they didn’t really have that much to say to each other.

Her father filled her in on the fishing industry, and her sisters complained about motherhood and their husbands. They had six children between them and Kyrstin was due with her third any day now. They kept Pop-Pop busy, and—if her father’s grins were any indication—happy too.

Laire’s plan to live in New York and spend summers at her condo in Hatteras was met with blank stares. Any reference to Ava Grace led to averted eyes and awkward silence. It hurt Laire that no one asked about Ava Grace, though she’d sent her father and sisters pictures of her daughter every Christmas. At one point, Issy looked meaningfully at Laire’s empty ring finger and asked if Laire would ever move back to Corey. When she said that she wouldn’t, Issy seemed relieved.

Laire received the message loud and clear: she was an outsider now.

For all intents and purposes, she was probably worse than a dingbatter.

She had transformed into someone worldly, someone who’d turned her back on their island ways and chosen the wicked, wider world over a good and simple life on Corey Island. And though she was grateful for the hugs hello and waves good-bye—she finally felt a certain sense of peace where her father, Isolde, and Kyrstin were concerned—there was an inevitable feeling of disappointment as well. Gone were her dreams of summer weeks spent with her sisters and their kids, her father bouncing Ava Grace on his knee.

It’s not that they wished her harm. They just wished her away.

Whoever said “You can’t go back” had been right. But lucky for Laire, the only real direction she was interested in moving was forward.

As she washed the last of the dishes, she was blinded by the bright headlights of an incoming car, and she blinked, quickly rinsing a soapy Frozen cup and plate, and tearing the rubber gloves from her hands.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s finally home.

When she heard his key in the lock, her throbbing heart burst with joy. She whipped open the door, giggling with glee as he stepped inside and grabbed her around the waist. She clutched his cheeks, drawing his lips to hers before they even exchanged hellos.

His tongue swept into her mouth as he pushed her against the door, slamming it shut with their bodies, his lips hot on her face, sliding down her neck, landing on the valley between her breasts. Panting as he looked up at her, he started unfastening the buttons of her blouse, cupping her flesh through the lace of her bra as he paused in his work to kiss her again.

She reached for the buttons and finished them, shrugging the shirt from her shoulders, then reaching for his, pulling it from his waistband and sliding her hands underneath. She sighed as she touched the warm, taut skin of his stomach, her breath hitching, her heart skipping.

His lips, brushing gently over the swells of her breasts, paused.

“Ava Grace?” he whispered.

She slid her hands out of his shirt and reached up to thread them through his thick, black hair, looking into his fierce, black eyes. “Asleep.”

“Fuck, I missed you, darlin’.”

“Me too.”

She whimpered with need, pulling his face down to hers as he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her easily. With her back against the door and her core flush with his, she could feel his erection pushing urgently through the tented gabardine of his charcoal trousers, and she arched her back to position his length of muscle as close to her clit as possible. But it wasn’t close enough. All she found was frustration, and she bit his lip gently in retaliation.

“Take me to bed,” she panted.

“My pleasure,” he muttered, turning away from the door to walk through the living room and down the narrow hallway. He passed by Ava Grace’s room and beelined into the master bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Shhhh!” she hissed against his lips. “You’ll wake her up!”

“Sorry,” he said, chuckling as he deposited her on the bed. He reached behind his neck, grabbed his T-shirt and dress shirt, and pulled both over his head, revealing his ridiculously beautiful abdomen.

“You know,” said Laire, standing up and reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra as she approached him. It slid down her arms and whooshed softly to the floor, leaving her torso as bare as his. Reveling in the hiss of appreciation that issued from his lips, she reached out and placed her fingers on the ridges of muscle before her, tracing the contours slowly, with reverence. “I’ve been around men all my life—bare-chested men who fish for a living.”

She leaned forward, kissing his skin as his hands reached up to cover her breasts, her nipples instantly tightening against his palms. “They haul up full nets from the sea. They work against the weather and the tides. They exert themselves all day, every day.”

He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, the sensitive buds throbbing from the attention and making her moan. “Ah. E-Erik.”

He leaned his head forward and replaced his fingers with his lips, sucking first from one distended nub, and then the other. “But none of them,” she continued, panting and whimpering, “were ever as beautiful as you.”

His teeth razed her flesh, and she cried out, her fingers landing on the button of his pants and pulling down the zipper. Her hand reached inside the warm fabric, under the waistband of his boxers to find his swollen, rigid cock standing straight up. Her breath hitched as he reached for his pants and yanked them down. Placing one hand on his chest, she forced him to sit on the edge of the bed, then dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth.

“Laire!” he cried, as her lips slid effortlessly down the silken shaft of throbbing muscle, her tongue swirling around the precum-covered tip, her fingers curling into his hips as she held on to him.

She sucked on him as their daughter had once suckled from her, thrilling in the grunts and groans above her, the way his hand wound through her hair, fisting it into a ponytail and guiding her as he saw fit. As he worked his cock in and out of her mouth, she looked up at him, watching the play of emotions on his beautiful face—lips pursed in deep desire, soft cries of lust, a flinch of pain-filled pleasure. She tracked his face as his erection throbbed between her lips, pulsing against her licking, swirling tongue.

“Laire . . . baby, I got a little worked up in the car. I’m goin’ to . . . You have to . . .”

She slid her lips from the base of his shaft to the head, releasing it from her lips with a soft pop and looking up at him.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, grinning down at her, putting his hands under her arms, and pulling her up to a standing position. His fingers quickly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, jerking them down over her hips. She toed them off and stood naked before him.

“I need you,” he said, his voice ragged with need as he pushed his own pants off completely, leaving both in a pile on the floor.

His hands landed on her ass, and he pulled her forward, lifting her onto his lap. With a sigh of deep, deep pleasure, she lowered herself onto his slick, pulsating member, bracing her feet on either side of his hips as he clasped his arms around her.

Once fully impaled, she looked into his eyes, which were dilated to black.

“I love you,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, rubbing her breasts against his chest. “I choose you. I choose us. Forever.”

Gently, with a reverence that make tears prick her eyes, he thrust upward, palming her cheeks and forcing her to look at him. “We make our own rules.”

“Yes,” she panted, moving rhythmically with him, the rasp of his chest against her nipples heightening the sensations between her legs, where his cock massaged the inner walls of her sex.

“We belong together,” he whispered near her ear, biting on her lobe, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he directed their movements.

“Yes,” she whimpered, feeling the gathering, the quickening, the throbbing sweetness of her climax close, so close.

“Forever!” he cried, his cock swelling, then releasing, within her, his thick, hot cum coating her womb, the vibrations of his orgasm compelling her own.

She screamed his name, letting her head fall limply to his shoulder as she rode out the waves of bliss, feeling her muscles contract and relax around him again and again, the action that made the words real and bound them to each other forever.

Forever.

***

They slept tangled in each other’s arms, but when Erik awoke at six o’clock, he jolted upright and ran naked to the front door, where they’d started undressing. He gathered together their cast-off clothes and took them back to the master bedroom, wondering if he should pull on his boxers and T-shirt, just in case Ava Grace wandered into their room.

“Erik?” Laire murmured. “Everything okay?”

He let the boxers in his hand drop to the floor and slipped back into bed bedside her, pulling her back against his chest and kissing her warm neck. “Mm-hm.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I didn’t want Ava Grace to find your blouse on the floor in front of the door.”

She sighed contentedly. “What a good daddy.”

Her deep, raspy, sleepy voice had the effect of making him hard all over again, and he held her closer, letting his growing erection press against her back just in case she was up for round two.

“I’m goin’ to be the best I can be.”

“I know,” she said. “Speaking of . . . we had sex last night. Without protection.”

For a split second, he froze, letting the ramifications of her words sink in, but just as quickly, his cock pulsed and swelled, the idea of making another baby with Laire better than porn any day.

“You’d be okay with that?” he asked, placing his palm on her flat stomach. “If you were . . . I mean, if I got you—”

“Mm-hm,” she murmured, her voice dreamy as the rising sun began to lift the gray of night. “I’d be okay with that.”

Reaching for her leg, he lifted it a little, leaning forward to guide himself into the warm, wet heaven of her sex. As he slid forward, she gasped, covering his hand with hers, moaning as he started moving within her.

“I want to see you pregnant with my child,” said Erik, groaning into her ear as he clutched her thigh, keeping her legs open, his lips sliding blindly over the skin of her shoulder as he drove deeply inside, faster and faster. “I want to know that I made you that way.”

“Erik,” she moaned, pushing her body rhythmically against his.

“I want to be there when the baby comes. I want to be there . . . for everythin’,” he panted, his teeth biting gently on her shoulder.

“Yes,” she sighed, her voice thick and breathless.

He raised her leg slightly higher. Then, withdrawing from her completely, he thrust back inside her to the hilt. She whimpered, arching against him, but he stilled, his eyes rolling back in his head as the walls of her sex tightened like a glove around him. “Tell me . . . you want it . . . too, Laire.”

“I . . . oh, God, please . . . I want it too!” she cried.

He thrust forward twice more—so deep, he swore his cock kissed her womb—and as she shook and shuddered, her muscles milking the cum from his cock, he prayed that their wish would come true.

Letting his head fall forward onto her neck, he panted in ragged breaths against her skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, gently releasing her thigh and wrapping his arms around her. “That was hot.”

She sighed, turning in his arms to face him, her eyes dilated but soft. “How many do you want?”

“How many do you want to have?” he asked.

“Four,” she said, grinning at him.

“What? Four?” he asked, smiling back at her, surprised she had an answer ready.

She giggled softly, leaning forward to kiss his lips. “I hated being one of three. I always wished the number had been even.”

“You felt ganged up on?”

She shook her head. “Not really. But I was the odd man out.”

“Not anymore,” he said, nuzzling her nose with his. “You’ve got me.”

She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“I leased my apartment and quit my job, baby,” he said. “I’m all yours now.”

“I have to tell you something.” She reached up and tousled his dark hair. “I heard from Madame Scalzo yesterday. She doesn’t feel like my working remotely is, well, working. She asked how I’d feel about relocating to New York to work in-house.”

“What’d you say?” he asked.

“I said . . .” She searched his eyes. “I want to go, Erik . . . but I don’t want to go without you.”

“Why would you go without me?” he asked.

She gasped softly, her eyes filling with tears. “Your whole life is here in North Carolina.”

“No,” he said, sliding his hand from her back to her hip, then placing it flat, between her breasts, over her heart. “My whole life . . . is here.”

A tear slipped from her eyes, plopping onto his arm. “You’ll come with me? With us? To New York?”

“Can’t think of a better place to practice sports and entertainment law, darlin’.”

Her smile was so bright, he didn’t understand how she could still be crying, but he tasted her tears as she captured his lips with hers.

“I wasn’t sure,” she said, sniffling as she nestled under his chin, her hands flat on his bare chest.

“Laire, my darlin’,” he said, “wherever you go, I go. Wherever you are, I’m home. And whatever happens, we’ll handle it together. Our rules. Deal?”

She nodded, her strawberry blonde hair tickling his throat as she pressed her lips to his skin and whispered, “Deal.”

***

They spent the morning in bed, planning their move to New York, and decided that they’d fly up to the city on Saturday to start looking at apartments. Laire e-mailed Madame Scalzo to say she’d be available to start work in two weeks, and her boss replied that they’d get a drafting table ready for their newest in-house designer.

Ava Grace ran into their room around seven thirty, jumping into bed with them—thank God they’d pulled on some clothes a few minutes earlier—and handing her “Welcome Home!” card to Erik. And he was perfect—commenting on every carefully drawn detail and declaring it the best card he’d ever gotten.

Laire made them scrambled eggs and toast, pleased when Erik stepped up beside her to dry the dishes she washed, the small gesture all the dearer to her because she doubted that he’d ever washed or dried a dish in his entire life.

She took Ava Grace to school, then returned home to find the condo empty. Erik had left a note that read, Wanted to research some NYC law offices and would be way too distracted by you if I stayed here. Went to the coffee shop at Hatteras Landing. Will pick up Ava Grace at school and be back later. Kelsey’s coming to babysit so I can take you out to dinner. Wear something sexy. I love you. –E

She grinned at the note, setting it beside her laptop on the kitchen table as she reviewed e-mails and made some changes on the sketches she’d sent to Madame Scalzo last week.

Her thoughts wandered as she was sketching, as she considered how drastically her life was changing—finding Erik, sharing the secret about him fathering Ava Grace, moving to New York, working in a couture design studio based in London. It was almost too much to believe, and yet it was all hers, within her grasp: li’l Laire from Corey Island, pop. 886, daughter of a fisherman, wife of a—

She blinked at the waiting cursor, pushing away from the kitchen table.

Wait. Wife?

Slow down, Laire, she told herself. Erik didn’t say anything about getting married.

He wanted to be with her and wanted to have kids with her, and yes, he wanted to move to New York and start a life with her there, but marriage? He’d never actually mentioned it. And yet, from the sudden throb in her heart, she knew how badly she wanted it: to be Erik Rexford’s wife.

Oh, she didn’t doubt his love for her and Ava Grace—that was plain. And she knew he wanted to build a future with her. But deep in her heart, where she could still hear her mother’s voice, she felt the word husband, and she wanted Erik to own that role in her life.

Standing, she walked to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of sweet tea, filling a glass and leaning against the counter as she sipped it.

He’d ask her, wouldn’t he? When the time was right? When he was ready? Maybe after they’d been in New York for a while, when they were settled in and life had resumed a steady beat. Maybe then he’d ask her.

Or, she thought, sitting back down at her computer, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he never would.

They already had a daughter together and could very well have another on the way. They’d be bohemian, living in one of the biggest cities in the world with their kids, unmarried, bound to one another solely by love. That could work, couldn’t it?

“Of course that could work,” she said aloud, with false conviction. More quietly, she added, “Love is what matters. Nothing else.”

Her brow knitted, she went back to work on her designs, hoping that the words would become her truth sooner than later, and hating that the traditional part of her would never truly believe them.

***

After school, Erik took Ava Grace for ice cream, then to Utopia Manor. The water had been drained from the house, the carpets had been removed for repair and cleaning, and work had already started on the hardwood floors.

He didn’t know when he’d ever set foot in the house again, but he wanted his daughter to see it—to see where he and Laire had met so many years ago, to see where their love story was born. She oohed and aahed as they walked through the mansion together, her little hand tightly clasped in his, her other hand holding Mr. Mopples’s flipper. He showed her pictures of him as a child and a teen, and pictures of her Aunt Hillary, whom he promised she would meet soon.

At four thirty, he texted Kelsey to confirm that he’d be picking her up at five, and when he turned around, Ava Grace was staring at the large portrait of Erik’s mother, hung over the fireplace in the living room.

“Is she a queen?” asked Ava Grace solemnly.

Erik squatted down beside her, hating like hell that the woman holding his daughter so rapt was the same woman who had kept them separated for the first five and a half years of her life.

“Nope. That’s my mother.”

Ava Grace turned to him. “My grandma?”

Erik took a deep breath, tilting his head to the side, wishing that things were different and he had a warm, loving, wonderful family to share with his little girl. “I guess so.”

“And will I meet her when I meet Aunt Hilnary?”

He grinned. After receiving two dozen penguins this morning, Hillary had achieved legendary status, which was reflected in the way Ava Grace said her name.

“Hillary.” Then, recalling her question, he quickly stopped grinning. “And no. You won’t meet . . . your grandma.”

“She’s dead like Nana?”

“No, baby,” he said, sighing as he stood up and looked at the regal face of Fancy Rexford, which made him grimace. “She’s just . . . far, far away.”

“And she can’t go to New York ever?” asked Ava Grace, slipping her hand into his.

“Not right now,” he said. “Maybe . . .” He flinched but forced himself to say the words for his daughter’s sake. “Maybe someday.”

She looked up at him, smiling happily. “Someday’s good enough as long as I got you and Mama.”

“You definitely have me and Mama,” said Erik, reaching down to pick her up so he could look into her eyes, marveling, as he did every time, how much they looked like his own. “In fact . . .”

Leaning forward, he whispered something into her ear, then drew away to look at her face. “Would that be okay?”

Her small face spread with an ear-to-ear grin, she giggled and nodded, clasping him around the neck as he squeezed her tight, his heart bursting with happiness.

***

By five o’clock, Laire was showered and dressed, wearing her favorite winter dress: a House of Scalzo original wrap dress in a zebra print with an oversize belt, three-quarter sleeves, and a plunging neckline. At a street fair in Paris, she’d picked up a chunky jet necklace, which she clasped around her neck, and she tugged on her black suede Roger Vivier boots, on which she’d splurged when Madame Scalzo had offered her a job. She darkened her eyes with kohl and dark brown mascara, and brightened her lips with coral gloss.

Checking herself out in the mirror, she grinned. Runway ready? Not quite. But sexy for a girl from the Outer Banks? Hell, yes.

As she closed her closet door, Ava Grace scampered into her room, telling her all about the castle on the beach called Utopia Manor, and she looked up to find Erik in the doorway.

She watched his eyes as they traveled slowly down her body, darkening with desire.

“Laire,” he breathed, “you look . . .”

She smiled at him. “Thanks.”

“I mean, damn, woman!”

“Erik!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she looked down at their daughter.

Chastened, he chuckled. “Your mama looks like dynamite tonight, Ava Grace.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty.” Then she jumped up and down. “Mama! Kelsey’s here! She brought pizza, and we’re goin’ to watch a movie!”

She raced from the room, dark red braids flying straight back and Mr. Mopples holding on for dear life.

Erik stalked her. “Who are you?”

Her heart flipped over. “Laire Cornish.”

Erik took another step toward her, shaking his head. “No way. I know Laire Cornish. I met her six years ago at my parents’ summer house. She had pinkish-gold hair and was wearing jeans and boots and a black shirt. She told me she had crabs, then ran away.”

Laire giggled, her stomach fluttering as he took another step closer. “You don’t like this look?”

“You’re so sexy, baby, I don’t want to leave this room.”

He was so close now, she could smell the sea air on his skin. “You took her to your house?”

His hands landed on her hips, and he pulled her against his chest. “I wanted her to see it before we moved.”

“You don’t think she’ll ever have another chance?”

He shrugged, his face hardening. “Not for a while, darlin’.”

Laire sighed, looping her arms around his neck and resting her cheek on his shoulder. She didn’t want to spoil the mood by asking about his family. “So, tell me, where are we going tonight?”

“Not a chance. You’ll see when we get there. You ready?”

She drew back from him and nodded, happy that his flirty mood seemed to be restored. Backing out of his arms, she grabbed her black silk clutch. “I’ll go say hi to Kelsey.”

He nodded. “Just give me a minute to change.”

***

Erik pulled into the Pamlico House parking lot, as he had hundreds of times before—as he had all that summer when he and Laire were first dating, as he had a little over a week ago, when he came out to the Banks to check on his parents’ house. But tonight his hands sweat and his stomach was alight with butterflies. Yes, he had already gotten Ava Grace’s permission in the living room at Utopia Manor, but would Laire say yes? Or would she ask for some time? They’d only just been reunited, he reminded himself. If she needed a little time, it wasn’t a no; it was just a pause. Right? Right.

Opening her car door, he took her hand as they walked up the steps to the reception area.

“The dining room’s not open for dinner yet, is it?” asked Laire.

Erik held open the door. “We’re not goin’ to the dinin’ room. We’re goin’ upstairs.”

Laire turned and looked at him. “Up to the widow’s walk?”

He nodded. “Is that okay?”

“I thought we were having dinner.”

“We are,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to hers. “Now, no more questions.”

He’d arranged it all with Kelsey, calling her from Raleigh two days ago, after he’d purchased the ring at Sidney Thomas, and asking if it was possible for her to arrange a private dinner for two under the stars on Friday night. After some pretty impressive haggling, Kelsey had agreed to set up everything, her excitement taking over as she told Erik to let her handle everything. Now, as he ascended the stairs with Laire, he hoped that “everything” would be perfect.

Opening the door to the roof, he held it for her, watching over her shoulder as she stopped beside the candlelit table, feeling the satisfaction of her surprised gasp and silently promising to give Kelsey a hundred dollar tip when they got home tonight.

A small table, covered with a long white tablecloth, had been set for two with china plates and gleaming silver. Ice water sparkled in two goblets, and a bottle of Champagne shifted in its icy bath. On the table was a low arrangement of red roses, surrounded by flickering candles, and in a heater beside the table, Erik knew he would find fresh catch plated with sautéed vegetables and warm rolls.

But the most important part of the night was going to happen right now. Erik dropped to one knee as Laire turned around to face him.

She gasped again, the tears in her eyes spilling onto her cheeks as she covered her mouth, her sea-green eyes so wide, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Darlin’, can I have your hand?”

Shaking like a leaf, she dropped her hands from her face and offered one to him.

“Erik,” she murmured through a soft sob, shaking her head. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Of course I did,” he said, taking her hand firmly in his. “We dated in secret. You had our child all alone. But this, baby? This time I’m goin’ to do it right.”

She smiled at him, sniffling softly as she wiped the tears from under her eyes.

Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, he withdrew a black velvet box and flipped it open. She inhaled sharply, staring at it for a moment before shifting her eyes to his, more tears following the others.

“Laire. Darlin’.

Wait. First, I want you to know: this afternoon at Utopia Manor, I got permission from Ava Grace to ask her mama to marry me so I don’t want you to think she’s not on board. She is. And Mr. Mopples is too, bless her heart.”

Laire chuckled softly, her shoulders shaking as she nodded at him to continue.

“Darlin’, I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. My feelin’s only grew deeper that summer, until the only future I could imagine included you. I was destroyed for any other woman.”

His hand squeezed hers.

“Even when I lost you, I didn’t stop lovin’ you, Laire. All it took was a glimpse of your face for every feelin’ I ever had to come rushin’ back so fast, I could hardly bear to let you out of my sight.”

Tears cascaded down her face, and she nodded at him, her smile so true and so lovely, it took his breath away.

“I don’t want to live another day without you. I don’t want this life if you’re not in it. I want to wake up next to you every mornin’ and make love to you every night. And every moment in between, I want to know that you’re mine and I’m yours and we’re the only family we’ll ever need.”

A small sob squeaked through her lips as she nodded.

“And if you need time, darlin’, that’s okay. Because we’ve always followed our own rules. And I’m not goin’ anywhere ever again, unless you’re goin’ with me.”

Her hand was shaking, but damn, she looked so beautiful, part of him wished he had more to say, just so he could kneel at her feet a while longer, looking up at his mermaid, the freckled, red-haired girl who had captured his heart so long ago.

“You ready?” he asked, grinning up at her, hoping against hope that their happy ending was just within reach.

She nodded and kept nodding as he asked, “Will you marry me, darlin’?”

She had started nodding halfway through his proposal, but now she managed, through tears and laughter, to answer, “Yes.”

Smiling up at her, Erik took the ring from its pillow and slipped it onto her finger, the two-karat diamond, flanked by two emerald-cut sapphires, catching the moonlight as she wiggled her fingers experimentally. “Ahhh, Erik. It’s so beautiful.”

Reaching for her other hand, he stood up, looking down at her face, lit by the moon and the stars, yes, but also lit by the spirit of this amazing woman who was the mother of his child and his future bride, on earth and into eternity.

“Yes,” he said, cupping her sweet face and leaning down to claim her lips with his, “it is.”