Beau took my free hand. I hated that it was sweaty and clammy, Beau’s so dry and strong.
He lifted our intertwined hands to kiss mine. “Hannah Morgan, you have been ours since you walked in the door. Clara and I love you.” He had looked down at his daughter with love emanating from him.
“Do you want to do the honors, Bug?” he had asked, his voice thick with emotion.
Clara beamed, unaware of both of us choking up. “Hannah, will you marry Daddy?”
Unfortunately, I did unattractively choke out a sob. It was impossible not to. “Yes,” had I whispered.
Clara had already taken the ring out to slide on my finger.
The wrong hand.
“Let me help, Bug,” Beau had murmured softly, directing Clara’s small hand to my left ring finger. They both slipped it on.
It fit perfectly.
Clara was frowning at the ring—not the reaction I wanted.
“Blueberry?” I asked carefully, tilting her head upward. I was worried she was having an episode or second thoughts about this.
“I think I have a proposal too.” She bit down on her lip like she did when she was nervous for a moment then looked up at me, love shining in her eyes. “Hannah, would you be my Mommy? Like for real? On the papers and everything?”
I might’ve fallen down if Beau’s hands hadn’t gone to my hips to steady me.
“Yes,” I managed through ugly tears. “Yes, Clara, I will be your mom. On the papers and everything.”
Clara threw her arms around me.
And there it was.
The best night of my life.
Clara went to bed late that night. We were celebrating. Beau had brought my favorite champagne, and she had her own glass of sparkling cider to “cheers” us with.
We’d started a wedding scrapbook, per Clara’s request, and Beau was “looking into” a murder of crows to be released after we said I do.
She had demanded I call Cole, on speaker, to tell him right away. Then the two of them planned a trip to New York to shop for dresses.
She also requested we call her Aunt Loppie, who said, “We’ll be there in five,” in response to the news. She and Elliot were indeed at our place in five minutes, another, more expensive, bottle of wine in tow. Also caviar, which everyone had to pretend to like. Clara screwed up her nose then fed it to the cat.
Next came Elliot and Beau’s father, who hugged me with tears in his eyes. “I consider you a daughter already. But I’ll be glad for the party to make it official.”
We spent the night surrounded by Beau’s family—mine now too. Beau smiled often, more than I’d seen him smile consecutively maybe ever.
By the time Clara was in bed, I was pleasantly buzzed, feeling lighter than I had since the shooting. I knew Beau was too, since he’d fucked me with extra fervor. He didn’t hesitate quite so much, didn’t treat me with quite so much care.
I liked it. Loved it, if three orgasms were anything to go by.
We were in bed, naked. Happy. Deliriously happy.
“Do you really want to be a nurse?” Beau asked.
I blinked at him, surprised. The question had come out of nowhere, but it was obviously something he’d been ruminating on.
“Of course,” I told him, out of reflex more than anything.
“What do you really want to be?” he asked, clearly sensing that I was holding something back.
