She could feel herself blush. “I owe you an apology,” she said.
He put down the hammer, took off his goggles and rounded the table.
Julia took a tentative step forward, and Frank closed the distance between them.
“What happened?” he said, not unkindly. “I was worried you’d decided I was a pervert or an ax murderer.”
“Oh, no!” she said, appalled all the more. “It wasn’t you at all.”
“Then what? I was really hoping to see you again. I’m glad you’re here, in fact.” He smiled gently, and Julia got her first inkling that everything really was going to be okay.
“I was hoping I could explain everything over dinner,” she said. “My treat.”
Frank’s expression transformed into a frown, and her stomach twisted up. Oh, dear. She’d been too forward.
“Call me old-fashioned,” he said, “but I never have gotten used to a lady paying for dinner. At least not the first few times around. But we can work that out later. I know a nice little Italian place around the corner.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “I hope I’m not interrupting your work.”
He waved a hand toward the table dismissively. “You’re rescuing me from another evening of utter frustration,” he said. “I haven’t done a single good thing since you disappeared on me. Typical self-centered artist-I nearly managed to convince myself you vanished because you hated my art so much.”
He laughed, and Julia melted.
“I love your work,” she insisted. “It’s actually a little early for dinner. Would you like to have a drink first?”
“Absolutely,” he said, but before she could turn and head for the stairs, he took her hand in his.
He clasped it between both his hands, and he gave her one of those smiles that started in his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said.
Julia smiled back. “Me, too.”
SOLEIL HADN’T WANTED to spend Christmas Eve alone. But when the invitations had come from friends, and even Julia, to have dinner with them, she couldn’t bring herself to say yes, either.
She didn’t have the energy to go out and face people and pretend everything was okay when it wasn’t. And her mother had made plans with old friends for the evening.
So Soleil would stay home, maybe watch a movie or read a book, and contemplate her last Christmas without a child. From now on, the holiday would be a big production, and she tried to tell herself she was savoring the freedom to do nothing this one last Christmas Eve.
She had just turned on the Christmas-tree lights when she heard a vehicle coming up the driveway. Past the tree, she could see West’s car in the distance, and the tiny knot of dread that had been growing inside her all day transformed in that instant into something that felt like hope.
No, not hope.
Joy.
No, not joy.
Love.
It didn’t matter why he was coming now-to deliver a gift for the baby or tell her he was leaving or berate her for being a fool for not being willing to move to Colorado. There was one thing she had to tell him, consequences be damned.
She ran to the door and left it open as she bounced across the porch and down the gravel road toward the car. He stopped when she neared, stuck his head out the window and peered at her, looking confused.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I mean, no, everything’s not okay.”
He turned off the car and got out, staring at her belly as if it might hold some answer.
She took him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “I love you, West.”
“What?”
She’d never seen him look so stunned-and she’d had some pretty stunning news lately.
“I. Love. You.”
“Does that mean-”
“No, it doesn’t mean I’ll come to Colorado.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“I love you, and I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t ask you to give up your career any more than I can give up my life here.”
He smiled, still looking a little stunned, a little confused.
“You could move here,” she said. “Help me run the farm. I could expand the program if I had you helping. We could help take care of your father if you were here.”
He laughed. “You just took the words out of my mouth.”
“Marry me,” she said.
“That’s supposed to be my line,” he answered, taking a small black velvet box from his pocket. “And this belonged to my mother.”
He opened the box, revealing a gold ring.
“Is that a yes?” she asked, her voice nearly catching in her throat.
Could this really be happening? Had he just said he’d move here?
“Of course it is. You’re the only woman I ever want to love. Aside from our daughter, of course.”
“But…the Air Force. What will you do?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll retire early. My life is here now, with you and the baby. Ever since I saw that ultrasound, there’s been a little voice in the back of my head whispering to me what I need to do.”
Soleil looked down the winding gravel road that led away from the farm, and that had brought West back to her-that had brought him home.
“You belong here, too,” she said. “Just like I do.”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
And when he kissed her, she knew without a doubt it was true. He belonged here.
With her, loving her, for life.
EPILOGUE
“YOU’RE SUPPOSED to smile, not cry.”
Soleil looked up at the camera pointed at her. “Would you put that thing away?”
“No, I want a few more shots. I’ve heard newborn babies’ faces change every day. We have to get lots of pictures or we’ll forget what she looked like.”
“Oh, God,” she muttered, but he could tell she was kind of enjoying the attention.
He clicked a few more shots at various angles, unable to stop himself. They looked beautiful together, Soleil and their little girl.
She smiled at the baby who’d been attached like a suction cup to her breast all morning. “Enough already,” she said to the baby, right before she gently pried her off.
“Your turn,” she said. “My arms are cramping up.”
He put down the camera and took the baby from her.
“Think of any names you like yet?”
“I know for sure that we’re not naming her Matilda.”
“Mattie for short! I think it’s perfect,” West said as the baby rooted around on his chest, only to discover that he didn’t have anything interesting there.
She began to howl. He gazed at the tiny pink bundle of screaming, angry perfection that had barged into his life and promptly taken charge of his heart a day ago.
“Let’s don’t be one of those couples whose baby goes around for a month with no name.”
“Alice?” he suggested.
“No.”
“Amanda?”
