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“I’ll love you forever, Ryan.” Her emotions were raw, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because of all the yesterdays they’d walked through that morning.

“I can’t wait till we’re married.” A cloud passed over the sun, and without the glare, Ryan took his sunglasses off and tossed them on the captain’s chair. His eyes met hers, and the depth there equaled what she was feeling.

“Me, neither.”

“Because then I can watch you fall asleep and wake up beside you every morning.” His fingers framed her face once more. “The way I’ve always wanted to.”

Their lips met. When he pulled away, he locked eyes with hers and spoke to a place deep within her soul. “Have you written it already? What you’re going to say?”

“Weeks ago.” Kari didn’t blink. The moment was too sacred for anything to interrupt it.

“Me, too.” He searched her face and swallowed. “Whatever else is going on that day—the bridesmaids and flowers and music and dinner. All the distractions…just know that I won’t be thinking of anything but you and how much I love you, Kari girl. How much I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

A fish jumped from the water a few feet from the boat and flopped back beneath the surface. They both looked at it and Kari laughed. “We’re not getting much fishing done.”

“Know what?”

“What?”

Ryan eased her close once more and kissed her again. This time it lasted long, and Kari was barely aware of anything but his touch, his lips against hers. When he released her, his voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t even bring the poles.”

L
UKE’S PLANE WAS COMING
in just after six that night, and Reagan still couldn’t believe it.

He called her the night before from Ashley’s house. At first she hadn’t known what to say. The conversation started with his begging her not to hang up. “I need to see you, Reagan. I know about Tommy.”

She hadn’t known whether to drop the phone or cling to it. When she finally found her voice, it hadn’t sounded even remotely familiar. “Luke?”

“Reagan…I can’t believe it’s you.”

After all the months of convincing herself she’d made the right decision—knowing that she couldn’t tell him about the baby, and finding out that he was living with someone else—hearing his voice set the record straight once and for all.

Her feelings for him were as strong now as they’d ever been. No matter how hard she’d tried to distance herself from him, her heart had not forgotten.

Luke went on to tell her very little, really. He’d left the girl he’d been living with and moved in with Ashley. He’d booked himself a flight and would be in New York Saturday night.

Reagan wasn’t even a little upset that Ashley had told Luke. She’d been too stunned to do anything but give him directions and tell him simply the way she was feeling. “I…I can’t wait to see you.”

She did the calculations and figured that by the time he landed and got his luggage, then found a cab and made his way to their Upper East Side apartment, it would be eight o’clock.

It was seven fifty-five now.

Tommy had already eaten, and she’d dressed him in a light blue knit outfit. He was cradled in her arms now as she sat in the chair closest to the front door. Her mother was working in the kitchen; every now and then she’d peek in and ask Reagan a question.

Reagan stared at her watch and tried to still her racing heart. Two more minutes ticked past, and her mother entered the room again. She was drying her hands with a dish towel.

“You okay?” She crossed the room and came to stand near Reagan and Tommy.

“You want the truth?” Reagan shifted Tommy to her other arm and leaned forward.

“You’re scared?”

“To death.” She let her eyes fall to her sleeping baby. “He wants to see his son. I got that much.” Her gaze lifted to her mother’s. “But what about me, and what about the way he’s walked out on his family and his faith—all of it? We don’t even believe the same way anymore. So what happens after we say hello?”

They heard footsteps outside the apartment. A pause and then a hesitant knock at the door. “Well—” her mother took a few steps backward—“you’re about to find out.”

Panic seized Reagan’s heart, and her knees wobbled as she stood. “Pray for me, Mom…please.”

Her mother nodded and turned back toward the kitchen. They’d talked about this moment a dozen times since last night, and agreed that it should be hers and Luke’s and Tommy’s alone. When she was gone, Reagan went to the front door and took hold of the handle.

Okay, God, be with us. We’re going to need a miracle.

By the time Luke reached Reagan’s door, he could barely breathe, let alone think straight. Just days earlier he’d been living with Lori Callahan. Now he’d moved his things into Ashley’s place and here he was—in New York City—about to see Reagan for the first time in almost a year.

Adrenaline coursed through him like a drug.

He’d told himself much on the plane ride to the East Coast. First, that he wanted to apologize to Reagan for not being more persistent. He had wanted to be sensitive to her grieving period, but when she hadn’t taken his calls week after week, he should’ve come to her. And he hadn’t.

He wanted her to explain why she’d refused his calls. He’d searched his heart for hours since learning about Thomas Luke, and the answers never quite made sense. Okay, so she was upset by her father’s death. And yes, the pregnancy had to have been a shock. Especially since she’d made a very clear-cut commitment to wait until she was married before having sex.

The disappointments and heartaches had stockpiled, one on top of the other. But still…couldn’t she have taken his call? Just once?

And then, when she’d known the truth about him, how he’d changed and moved in with another girl, couldn’t she have cared enough to call? Even as a friend?

So this meeting had a lot of issues to cover.

He also wanted to apologize for moving in with Lori. No, he didn’t owe Reagan any explanation. After all, she’d been gone for months by the time he’d moved in. But still, it was wrong. He never loved Lori. When he looked back at the situation now, he admitted he’d never even liked her all that much. So in honor of all he’d shared with Reagan, he should’ve waited. And for that he was sorry.

But there was one thing he wouldn’t apologize for: the way he believed now.

His belief system was something he owned, something that belonged to him, regardless of how shocking it might seem to her. Yes, he wanted to see her, and yes, he wanted to be a father to Tommy. But even if they found their way back to the place where they loved each other again, nothing could convince him God was real. The freethinkers might’ve had some wacky ideas, but they’d at least set him straight on that much.

God—some Creator taking care of his creation, investing in their daily happenings, looking out for their future—was a nice, fuzzy idea. But it was all folklore and fantasy. His freethinking meetings had taught him at least that.

Back on September 11, Luke had begged God to let Reagan’s father live…to let things work out okay for her and him, for the two of them together. But his prayers—prayers uttered in a moment of direst need—had fallen on deaf ears.

If God had been real, he would’ve heard the prayers of Luke and a million other people that day. He would’ve kept the Twin Towers from falling. Even if he’d had to hold them up with his almighty hands.

Instead things had played out randomly, the way all of life—Luke saw now, in hindsight—always played out. That fact made it impossible for him to have a relationship with his father—which was something else Reagan couldn’t change his mind about. His father thought him lost and confused, brainwashed. The man didn’t have a bit of respect for the way Luke believed.

And so he and his father would find their own way in the world, and Reagan couldn’t do a thing about that. If Luke and she found common ground, he would be straight with her. He planned to never set foot in a church again, never pray or read a Bible. And never contact his dad.

If Reagan wanted to do those things, fine. She was entitled to her way of thinking. Maybe in time she’d even come to see things his way. That God couldn’t possibly exist.

Anyway, those were things they’d have to talk about, and none of them made Luke feel even a little bit at ease. But despite all the difficult things that lay ahead for him and Reagan, he felt something else. Pure, indefinable joy. Because no matter how he’d changed, one thing had remained firmly the same.

He loved Reagan Decker.

He wiped his palms on his jeans shorts, cleared his throat, and knocked. On the other side of the door he heard muffled voices, and then silence. The faint sound of footsteps drew closer, and then the door opened.

Time stood still as he took in the sight of Reagan. Everything about her was exactly the same—her long, blonde hair was pinned in a messy pile at the top of her head, and her body was as fit and leggy as ever. But when he caught her expression he saw something different.

Her eyes were older. Years older.

His gaze dropped, and he could feel his breath catch. Cradled in a blanket in her arms was a baby he couldn’t quite see. He took a step forward, wiping his palms against his shorts. “Reagan…”

She lowered the baby and adjusted the blanket. The infant stirred and opened his eyes just as Luke took another step closer and leaned down.

Then, in a moment like none other in his life, Luke looked into his son’s face. Seconds passed. Something both deep within him, and yet close to the surface, began to melt. Sudden, unexpected tears filled his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks, and a handful of truths stood in a row, suddenly clear and eager to be examined.

First, Ashley was right—the baby looked just like him. His skin was honey and cream, and his blond eyelashes went on forever. As Luke’s did in pictures he’d seen of himself at that age.

Luke wiped the back of his hand across his own cheek; then, with a single delicate brush of his finger, he touched his baby’s cheek.

That’s when the second truth made itself known: He had a son. He actually had a son! An unbelievable explosion of awareness went off in his heart and continued on into his soul. Luke Baxter had a son! The eyes blinking back at him belonged to a child who would forever be a part of him and a part of Reagan. A part of his parents and her parents. A child who bore his name and always would.

Another truth stepped forward. No matter what happened between Reagan and him, he could never walk away from the baby in her arms. He was the boy’s father, and though he hadn’t been sure what that meant until now—watching the baby, connecting with him, feeling his heart and the baby’s become one—he was convinced. He would walk around the world to spend an hour with this child.

And that brought about another obvious fact: This feeling—this amazing connection—had to be the way Luke’s father felt about him when he’d been born. For an instant Luke closed his eyes and tried to imagine the baby before him grown-up, defiant and angry, setting out to make his way in life. No matter what words the child in Reagan’s arms would ever say to him, Luke could never forget the way he felt right now. The deep, never-say-die kind of love that filled him…that his father must’ve felt every time they’d fought or parted in anger over the past year.

Luke’s heart did an about-face. No matter what their differences, he needed to make things right with his father. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but sometime soon. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Dad, I’m sorry. I’ve been an idiot, Dad, I didn’t know.

His thoughts fought for position. Luke blinked his eyes open and remembered to breathe. His looked at Reagan. “He’s…he’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” It was her first word since she’d opened the door. “Ashley says he looks like you.”

“He has your nose.” Luke lifted his eyes and let himself get lost in Reagan’s gaze. The connection there was almost strong enough to bring him to his knees.

Reagan smiled down at the baby. “Look at him.”

Luke did, and he saw what Reagan was looking at. Thomas Luke was cooing in his direction, waving his tiny fingers in the air above his face and grinning, almost as though he knew this was his father standing there, staring at him with such awe.

“Baby…I’m here.” Luke’s voice was choked. He held out his hand and let the tips of his fingers brush against his son’s.

And that’s when one last truth stepped up and announced itself—a truth Luke couldn’t have denied if his life depended on it. Because, no matter what he’d been thinking in the seconds before knocking on Reagan’s door, looking into the face of his son and feeling the very fiber of his being connect with a child that was his own made something utterly clear.

What this newest truth meant for his future, the future of his son and the girl he still loved, Luke wasn’t sure. Most of his doubts were still firmly in place, but as he followed Reagan into her apartment, as he hugged her and cried with her and told her he was sorry a hundred times over, he was as certain of this final truth as he was of anything in all his life.

God had to be real.

Thomas Luke was living proof.