Jake and his brothers crack up as Grams shouts, “Language!” and a bunch of other Cockers join her, shouting it too, with laughter in their voices. Same as hers.
As the conversations resume, I lay my hand on Emma’s, press it into my leg and lean in to quietly tell her, “It really is the best.”
“Isn’t it?” she whispers back, grinning.
“Thank you for changing my life.”
Her smile fades and she touches my temple. “I’ve only just begun, so get ready, Mr. Hamilton. I’m not done with you.”
We kiss and my heart beats with excitement for a future with this woman.
All I used to care about was business. Buying a company, tearing it down and selling off the pieces. Maybe that started to change with Riva, when her story inspired me to give back. It certainly brought me here to Atlanta.
But that courageous bookkeeper cracked my heart enough that Emma Cocker was able to push it all the way open.
Now the only company I’m going to sell off is my own. It’s worth more than I can count. I’ll focus on Atlanta’s Little Angels, and maybe make some of my own. Maybe? Who am I kidding? A large family is in our future. Some extended, some our own.
I’m a man of goals, who makes things happen. The only goal I care about now is seeing if I can make my Cocky Love smile more than she is, right now.
As she tears into a slice of bread pudding I mutter, “No better goal than that.”
Cocking an eyebrow she asks, “What goal, Tanner?”
Smirking I kiss her. “You’ll see.”
EPILOGUE
EMMA
C uddling Carter to my chest I veer right on the stone path to avoid running children, the backyard of Atlanta’s Little Angels teeming with laughter and shouting. They’re always so excited at lunchtime. Guess that will never change—kids love recess more than school. A chance to play, rest their minds, socialize.
Margaret calls out, “David, Martin! Take turns on the slide!”
They nod and stop pushing each other as she and I walk to stand together, watching everyone. Her fingers float over to me so she can stroke Carter’s soft hair as she smiles, “Can’t believe he just turned one. Feels like just yesterday I was being interviewed to run A.L.A. and you weren’t even married then.”
“I know, right?” I smile, kissing his head. “I envy him his ability to sleep anywhere.”
“You taught him that by not being quiet whenever he naps,” she says with authority.
“Guess I did,” I murmur. “But I didn’t mean to. Happy accident. There are always so many people around, with my family or when we’re here with the children. It’s kind of impossible to have everyone tip toe around.”
Margaret crosses her arms, sunlight dancing on our faces as we watch the kids.
My eyes alight on the little girl who joined the orphanage two months ago, coloring by herself in the shade of an oak tree. “I’m going to talk to Rose.”
“Okay Emma.” I start walking and Margaret adds, “I saw you talking with her the other day, too. She’s opening up to you.”
“Seems to be,” I frown. “Been a slow process.”
Margaret inhales deeply, because she feels the same. “It takes longer for some to acclimate. The other children have asked her to play but she keeps to herself.”
Nodding I head over, arms cuddled around my son. Rose glances up as she sees my sandals approach in her peripheral vision. But her eyes dip to the paper again in a hurry. Like I might go away if she doesn’t acknowledge my presence.
Sitting on the grass a couple feet from where she is, I bring my knees up and lay Carter’s back onto them. “You like the shade? That better for your dreams?”
Rose glances to me, which I pretend not to notice. The best way to get her to let down her guard is to allow her to come to me when she feels it’s safe to.
“Bet you’re dreaming of apple sauce and banana pudding, huh, Carter.” I sneak a peek at Rose, her coloring paused. “Someday soon you’ll have pizza. And then apple sauce will seem so boring, right little man?”
“Why can’t he have pizza?” Rose whispers.
Without meeting her eyes, still focused on my toddler, I gently answer, “He still eats mostly baby food, because he’s not big like you are. But when he’s ready, then he can have pepperoni… mushroom… sausage…” I’m searching for the one she loves most. “Pineapple… tomato… basil.”
“You didn’t say cheese,” she whispers.
Glancing over with big eyes I ask, “How could I forget cheese?”
“That’s the best one.”
“Is it your favorite?”
She nods and tugs on her natural curls, full lips thinned by the tension of shyness.
“My favorite is sausage. Have you tried that one?”
Rose nods and wrinkles her nose.
“You didn’t like it, huh?”
She shakes her head in that exaggerated way children do. I nod that I understand, and Carter opens his eyes, pulling my focus.
“Hi little man,” I softly say, kissing his forehead. “Did you hear us talking about pizza? Rose likes cheese, and I like sausage, and someday soon you’re going to have a favorite, too. I wonder what it will be.”
Rose walks on her knees, closer so she can see his face better. After a moment she announces, “Pepperoni.”
I glance to her, thrilled she’s approached us like this. It’s the first time she’s done so, and I’ve been trying for weeks. “You think Carter will love pepperoni?”
A small nod, then, “His fingers are tiny.”
“They are.”
“And pale.”
Laughing I hold his hand to hers, while they stare at each other. “Yes, his skin isn’t the same color as yours, but you’re both children just the same.”
Innocent eyes lock with mine as she asks, “Why?”
Shrugging one shoulder, keeping my voice gentle so as not to scare her off, I answer, “It’s just how you were born. Your parents had skin like yours, so you were born this way. Carter has skin like mine and Tanner, so he’s born that way. You remember my husband,
