Sable grinned. Lifted her other leg to drape it over Rafe’s. And settled in. The groans and creaks of the metal no longer a concern.
If this car fell apart, they had others. One of the benefits of being with a brilliant car restorer.
Feeling as light as air, Sable breathed in the colour all around her. The lush green of the grass, the purple of the mountain peeking out over the bursts of oranges and reds and rich autumnal brown of the trees. Above it all the sky—light and bright, a soft velvety blue peppered with tufts of fluffy white clouds.
And then there was Rafe, the hot, dark, solid presence beside her.
Smiling, with every inch of her body, she breathed out fully, and closed her eyes.
Feeling safe, and happy, and home.
EPILOGUE
SABLE STEPPED OUT through the front door of The Barn, tucked her light summer wrap around her nightie, and curled her toes into the warm wood of the new deck beneath her feet.
The sky above was a clear blue dome. Mount Splendour covered in the green of fresh spring growth. The air was cool but by midday it would be scorching.
Sensing movement, Sable found Rafe standing over a pile of dried wood, T-shirt dripping in sweat as he chopped the logs for next winter. The new fireplaces they’d put in the lounge and the sitting room when they’d converted The Barn into a home were possibly her favourite additions.
Well, that and the nursery.
Feet bare, she padded over the lush green grass outside their back door. As often happened when she came within touching distance of Rafe, she felt the world shimmer around her.
She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist, laying a kiss on his shoulder, tucking her head into the warmth of his back. A vision flashed inside her head, a memory of another such moment, or a wish she’d once had. Then it was gone. Reality being so much better.
And the air kept on shimmering, with the warm buzz of coming summer.
“Good morning.” Rafe’s voice hummed through his back into her ear.
“Isn’t it?”
“Eaten yet?”
“I just woke up. What time is it?”
“Does it matter?”
Sable smiled, and felt it blossom through her. “Not a jot.”
Rafe was in town for a few days, with a big old Cadillac to keep him busy and a wife who had plans to keep him busier again. Mercy and Stan would be coming over for lunch, but not for a few hours yet.
“You looked too peaceful all tucked up in bed,” said Rafe. “Snoring away.”
“I don’t snore.”
“You didn’t snore. Since munchkin came on the scene, it’s another story.”
Sable glared at him as she tried to see if he was kidding. Then—
“Oh!” she said, her hand moving to her growing belly.
“Sutton?” Rafe spun to face her. Throwing the axe aside. Dark eyes worried, before his gaze dropped to her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I keep telling you, don’t call me Sutton. It’s Thorne now.”
“Hell, woman, you’re as bad as your mother.”
She went to glare at him when... “There!” she said, grabbing his hand and laying it under hers. “Wait for it.”
She felt it again. Like bubbles popping.
Rafe’s eyebrow kicked north. “You snore. And now you have gas. If I’d known this was how things were going to be—”
“Shush, you big doofus. It’s a kick. Those bubbly feelings, that’s the baby kicking.”
Rafe’s eyes grew comically wide, before his gaze dropped once more to her belly. Then he dropped to his knees, jeans sinking into the dewy ground. His hand moving a little to the left so he could rest his ear against her belly. His other hand wrapped around her wrist, the one sporting her arrow bracelet, his thumb running over the thin charm.
They stood there, the morning sun filtering over them, their land beneath their feet, pollen floating on the warm air, birdsong wafting to them from the copse of trees giving them privacy from Janie’s Airstream—
Bubbles! One after the other.
Their eyes met. And they laughed as one.
Before Rafe pressed to his feet, and kissed her long and hard. Basking in the surety that their baby, their little girl—or boy—was happily, healthily moving around inside Sable’s womb.
For all their big plans it had taken them a full year to fall pregnant.
Which was, actually, pretty perfect. As it had given them a whole year to find their new normal.
Sable liked to sleep in—heading out into the wilderness in the afternoon light, to find angles and damage and regrowth to photograph.
Rafe was up before the birds, answering correspondence from all over the world as his reputation grew and opportunities bloomed. When he travelled in search of cars that needed tending, needed care, it was with alacrity, making time to check in several times a day. Sable liked him checking in.
And together they’d converted The Barn into a warm, spacious, two-storey space, filled with homey rugs and plush furniture.
There was an art studio bathed in natural light, and a five-car garage in which to keep Rafe’s most precious cars, and one VW Beetle—newly panel-beaten, freshly painted in a deep rich glossy black. They’d kept the stairs leading to the loft.
“You know that envelope the doctor gave us?”
Rafe didn’t have to ask which one. He drew himself back to his feet, a hand still on her belly. “What about it?”
“I reckon we should open it.”
Rafe had wanted to know the gender, Sable had not. Having witnessed such impasses many times over, the doctor had gently suggested writing down the answer and popping it in an envelope. Just in case.
But here, now, with Rafe holding her with such tenderness, such strength and solidity, Sable knew she would give him anything he ever wanted. No questions asked. No strings.
“Are you sure?” he asked, dark eyes gleaming with such hope it made her laugh. “Because I can wait.”
“Come on.” Sable took him by the hand and led him back towards the house.
The envelope was currently attached to their fridge with a magnet
