Sam's heart crashed into thunder, blocking out almost everything except Lola's shocked, happy gasp and the way Chase's face paled, then flushed hot red as he turned to Sam in stunned astonishment. Then they were hugging, all three of them, and Sam couldn't tell whose tears were whose. It hardly mattered, as Chase scraped out, "Dad," incredulously, and Sam whispered, "Son," in return.
"I'm so glad. I'm so happy," Lola said through tears. "All I wanted was for you to be safe and happy. That's all that mattered."
Chase made a rough sound and hugged her a little harder through the tangled embrace. "I am. I have been." His voice was awfully shaky as he added, "Mom," carefully, and Lola flooded with fresh tears.
"What an incredibly lucky family we are," Sam said hoarsely. "Thank you, Dr Reynolds. We owe you so much."
She looked startled to be remembered, and passed it off with a smile. "It's a privilege to witness this kind of reunion. I should be thanking you. That said…" She lifted her eyebrows, tilted her head toward the library door, and took her leave, although she didn't bring her things with her, so Sam assumed she was only giving them privacy, not leaving the estate. Then for a time he didn't think of her at all, caught up in hugs, in phone calls—vonecalls, he reminded himself with amusement—to the rest of the family, and finally in collapsing into the couch, exhausted from emotion.
Chase, looking as shaky as Sam felt, finally said, "I'd like to talk to Jacinda again," and with a final hug, got up to leave Sam and Lola alone. They both smiled at him, and Sam pulled Lola close, waiting until their son had left to murmur, "Are you all right?"
"I'm wonderful," Lola whispered. "So tired right now, but I also feel like I could fly. I never imagined a happy ending like this, Sam. Not ever. Even in my dreams, it wasn't this perfect. You've done such a good job raising your children," she said hazily. "It's a miracle one of them was ours. I can't believe how lucky I am. How lucky we all are."
"Me either." Sam closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation of having his beloved in his arms, then smiled into her hair. "Of course, I'm a shifter, you know. We didn't stand a chance of outfoxing fate."
Lola breathed an amused sound, then, as she really heard what he'd said, lifted her head to give him an indignant look. "Samuel Todd! You did not!"
He—cackled, he reminded himself. So much more dignified than giggling. He cackled and said, "I'm afraid I did."
"Hmph." Lola put her head back down. "Good thing I love you, or saying things like that might fox it up."
"Lola!" Sam shouted with laughter. "Language, young lady!"
"Why, are you going to vulpine away if I curse a little bit? I'm just thinking outside the fox, Sam, I don't know what you're complaining about. Oh, come on, you can keep up with me if you just fox-us a little bit. And after that wedding dress I wore, I don't want to hear about you thinking I make any fashion fox-paws, either. Furthermore?—"
"No! No! Stop! I concede! I didn't know what I was letting myself in for! When did you become a punster? I don't remember that about you!"
"Isn't it fox-tastic?" Lola grinned up at him as he groaned from the bottom of his soul. "I can keep going, if you want."
"There are so manyotherways I'd like you to keep going, though." He stole a kiss, then pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed as he smiled. "Actually, as long as you stick with me forever, you can make all the terrible fox puns you want."
"For the rest of our lives," Lola murmured contentedly. "Just like we were always meant to be. I love you, Sam. Nothing could ever be more perfect."
CHAPTER17
One YearLater
It wasn't hard to live up to a promise ofnothing could ever be more perfectin a year of love and adoration, of story-telling and sharing the lives they'd lived apart as they settled into the life they were now living together. But Sam had made another promise, one he was fairly certain Lola had forgotten, and he intended to live up to that one, too.
It started with breakfast in bed on their anniversary, a special treat that both Cook and the housekeeper firmly told him he'd better not get used to: breakfast was served in the breakfast nook, not in bed, where crumbs got into the sheets.Just this once, they both agreed, but never again. Sam swore he wouldn't push his luck a second time, and both the women exchanged a look that said they knew perfectly well he'd do the same thing next year.
Although in his defense, he really didn't intend to. This was a special occasion. French toast, which was Lola's favorite, and fresh orange juice, and most importantly, a ring box settled behind the juice glass, which she didn't pick up for anagitatinglylong time. For a seventy year old man, Sam was impressed with how squirming and impatient he could be, and relief swept him when Lola finally did reach for the juice.
Her fine feathery eyebrows rose as she saw the box, and just to torment him—Sam was pretty sure of that—she took a nice long sip of the juice before putting the glass aside and murmuring, "Now what on earth could this be?" as she picked up the box. Sam jittered, and Lola glanced at him with a quiet laugh. "Really, Sam, what is it? I don't need anniversary gifts. Thank you, though."
She opened the box as she spoke, and the last words faded into astonished silence before she whispered, "Sam."
"I told you," he said, surprisingly nervously. "I told you I'd get you a better ring for our anniversary."
The ring in the box was both delicate and intricate. Rose gold, with a rose-shaped setting for a pale pink stone with golden under-hues, and diamonds set around the band, which was in turn surrounded with two other bands that made up a leaf-like setting for the central rose. Lola, ever so softly, said, "Sam," again, and lifted her gaze to him in astonishment. "It's incredibly beautiful."
He reached out to not quite touch the central band, whispering, "Engagement ring," and then touching first the bottom ring, then the upper. "Wedding ring. And fiftieth anniversary ring. I know it doesn'tquitecount?—"
"Oh!" Lola threw herself into his arms, knocking over the entire breakfast tray as she did so and thus proving both Cook and the housekeeper right: breakfast in bed was a terrible plan. But as Sam gathered his wife and mate in his arms, he thought they would probably forgive him, just this once. "It counts," Lola promised, her voice muffled in his shoulder. "It counts. Oh, Sam, how perfect. How beautiful. Thank you so much." She untangled enough to remove the ring and offer it to him so he could put it on her finger, then beamed joyfully as it glittered there. "But I didn't get you one."
"Well." Sam snaked an arm across the bed and pulled another ring box out from his bedside table. "I thought you might worry about that, so I got you one to get me."
"Of course you did. Oh,my, what good taste I have." The ring in his box was heavier, but also of rose gold with a central stone of morganite, with an etched roses-and-leaves motif around the small diamonds that spanned out from the larger stone. Lola, beaming, put it on his finger, then lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles. "I assume you admire my excellent taste."
