She nodded.
I pulled her to my side and stroked her hair. She smelled of flowers.
“I am never leaving you or our children,” I murmured against her temple. “Which means two of us—two former solo parents who made unilateral decisions regarding our older children—must now learn to work together.”
“That sounds terrifying and wonderful at the same time.” Dede looked up at me. “You really remember the sound I make when I fall asleep?”
“A soft little sigh, almost like contentment.” I brushed my thumb across her cheek. “I remember everything about you, Dede, and I am not going anywhere. Not unless you physically throw me out, and given your current condition, I like my odds.”
That startled a wet laugh out of her. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m still mad at you.”
“I will do anything to make it up to you.” I brushed my lips against her forehead.
“Anything?”
“Yes. All you have to do is ask.”
“Will you, Aristides Christakis, be my husband for…”
I gave her no time to second-guess, pressing my mouth against hers.
She made a small sound of surprise, and I took full advantage of her parted lips. The kiss deepened, my tongue sweeping against hers with a hunger that had been building since she’d walked out of my bedroom last summer.
She kissed me back with equal fervor, her tongue meeting mine, and her breathing quickened.
Then she pulled away. “Aris, wait—”
“I completed marriage license applications for both Greece and Montrose, yes. All we need is your signature on whichever you prefer.” I cupped her face. “I hope you choose the U.S.application, this way you take my last name. Though I will accept if you hyphenate.”
The applications waited in my briefcase. I had my legal team research every possible obstacle and prepare alternate paths to achieve the same outcome.
Dede pulled back far enough to meet my eyes, one eyebrow arched. “Aren’t you considerate.”
I followed her lips, but she turned her head. “Only with you,” I said.
“Stop,” Dede held up a hand. “I was asking you to pretend to be my husband, not to actually marry you.”
“Pretend?”
“I had a meeting with Maxwell—Black Ember—two days ago. He loved my work and said it was exactly what their company needed to reach younger demographics. Then he invited my husband and me to their Kentucky distillery.” She met my eyes. “I told him I wasn’t married, and he got this look on his face. Turns out the owner, Maxwell’s father-in-law, won’t do business with people who don’t represent ‘traditional American family values.’ Meaning unmarried pregnant women.”
“Let me understand this correctly. You need husband to secure contract with company whose owner discriminates against unmarried mothers.”
“Yes, so if we just pretend—”
“Absolutely not.”
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“I am not pretending to be your husband, Dede. I am going to be your husband, yes.” I pulled her closer. “You need ring on your finger. Done. We will marry tomorrow, and you will have legal documentation. It also solves your problem permanently. This will not be last time someone judges you for being unmarried with children.”
“That’s not a reason to get married.”
“No, but our children are. The fact that you’re carrying my babies and I’m never letting any of you go is.”
Dede looked up at me through her lashes, her voice softening. “You said you’d do anything to make it up to me. Anything I asked.”
“Yes, but not this.”
