Expecting the Boss’s Baby (16 page)

He smiled then, a tired smile that nonetheless made the morning brighter. “I would love breakfast.” He got up and he followed her inside.

He stopped when he got past her small square of entryway and gazed thoughtfully at her tree in the window. “I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see that tree from inside.”

She turned to him then. She was tearing up a little. “Oh, Dax…”

He set his Starbucks cup on a side table and held out his arms to her.

There was nothing to do but go into them, to sigh in
relief and joy as he wrapped her tightly in his cherishing embrace.

She tucked herself close to him, felt his lips in her hair. “I love you, Dax.”

“And I love you.” He took her by the shoulders and held her away enough that he could look in her eyes. The white scar he'd taken in the crash back in August gleamed, pale and jagged as a lightning bolt, on his forehead.

She reached up, traced the shape of it, remembering all they had been through. Together.

And he said, “I love you. And I
am
here, Zoe. I'm not going away. I know I was an idiot when you first told me about the baby. I was a fatheaded fool and I let you down. I am so damn sorry. And all I want is a chance to prove to you how much I've learned. How wrong I've been. Dead wrong. Because I really do want to be a family man. With you. I want our baby. I want our life as it has been—and more. I want our life as it can be, you and me, together, in every way.”

Her tears brimmed over. “Yes.” There. She had said it. The one word. The word that made their future possible. “Yes, Dax. Together. For a lifetime. I want that, too. I'm finally ready for that, too.”

Tenderly, he framed her face, brushing gently with his thumbs at the tears on her cheeks. “I've been thinking, while I sat out there on your lawn with those reindeer of yours. Thinking how in Mexico, you had to fight. Thinking how scared you must have been, with me completely out of it, lost in the fever that almost killed me. You were all alone, fighting for my life and yours, too. I think…you changed me then, Zoe. Because of you, I lived. And after that, I was yours. I belong to
you,
with
you. And it's all I want, to be right here, where I belong.”

She searched his face, found everything she sought there—and more. “I see now that I was wrong to doubt you. But I don't doubt you anymore.”

“Will you…?” His voice trailed off. He seemed almost afraid to ask.

She asked, for him. “Will I marry you?” At his nod, she said the important word again. “Yes. Oh, yes. Dax, I want that now. I want to be your wife. I want to be a family. With you. And with our baby.”

He kissed her then. The deepest, truest kiss. And then he scooped her high into his arms and carried her back to bed.

They made slow, tender love. And then they got up and cooked breakfast.

And then later, together in the truest way, they went to Sunday dinner at Bravo Ridge.

No one seemed surprised to see Dax. They welcomed him as one of the family.

Aleta hugged him. “Happy holidays, Dax. I'm so pleased you're here.”

“So am I, Aleta. I can't tell you how much.”

Six-year-old Kira scolded him. “Dax, there you are.”

“Hi, Kira.”

She braced her small fists on her hips. “Where have you been?”

“Camping,” he told her and glanced up to share a grin with Zoe.

Kira reached out and tugged on his hand. “But you're back with our family now?”

“Yes, I am.” He gave the child his warmest smile. “I'm back. I promise.”

“You'll be with our family for Christmas?” Kira demanded to know.

“Yes,” he said. “For Christmas, definitely.”

“Good,” Kira declared with a nod and then giggled as her grandfather scooped her high in his arms. “Grandpa, you
surprised
me!”

Davis winked at Dax and then lifted the little girl higher still, so she sat on his shoulders. “Let's go eat, Kira.”

She linked her arms around his neck and braced her little chin on the top of his silver head. “Okay, Grandpa. Let's go now!” He turned and carried her off toward the kitchen.

Dax held out his hand to Zoe. She took it.

They went in to dinner together, as they were meant to be. For Christmas. In the New Year. And for all the New Years to come.