"Yes. No. Damn it, Bradley, you don't have to make me sound like a fool. The only other people Simon's ever given things he makes to besides me are the Hansons, and that's because he thinks of them like grandparents. He gave this to you because he loves you, and I thought… You hung it."
"I happen to like it." He couldn't help grinning like a fool when he tapped a finger against the red leather boot. "I'm afraid you might be missing the artistic whimsy of the design. But be that as it may—"
"Don't you talk to me about artistic whimsy. Let me tell you something, Bradley Charles Vane IV, if you're not prepared to stand behind all that talk about being in love with me, then you don't know who you're dealing with."
The grin stayed plastered on his face as he looked at her. "Don't I?"
"Marriage isn't a joke to me, it's what I expect from the man I love and the one who claims to love me. My son deserves a father, not someone who just wants to play around at relationships. Neither of us is going to settle."
Brad nodded. "I guess that told me."
"I got it! I got it!" Simon bulleted out of the house. "It was right where—" He cut himself off at the warning look from Brad, but though he stared down at the ground, his shoulders shook with laughter.
"I'd like to know what's so damn funny."
"A little man business between me and Simon," Brad told her, deftly palming the box Simon had clutched in his hand. "You see, it happens Simon and I discussed a certain matter a while back, and—"
"You said you had to wait until…" Hunching his shoulders under Brad's bland stare, Simon scuffed a toe on the path. "Okay, okay, but hurry up ."
"We came to an understanding," Brad continued. "And as questions on both sides were resolved, I thought it only right to show him this, so he could be sure of my intentions."
Brad lifted the box, opened the lid.
"It was his grandmother's and—golly, can't I say anything?" Simon complained when Brad shushed him.
"Let's see what your mother has to say first."
Looking at the ring was like looking at stars. Delicate and bright, and beautiful. She could only give a helpless shake of her head.
"You had plenty to say a minute ago," Brad pointed out. "Something about me standing up, and what you expect. But maybe I should answer your initial question. Yes." He took the ring from the box. "Absolutely yes. I'll be your husband, and love you every day for the rest of my life."
"Put it on her finger," Simon demanded. "You're supposed to put it on her finger, then you have to kiss her."
"I know the drill."
"You—the two of you—already talked about this?" Zoe managed.
"That's right. When a guy's taking on a father, there are things he needs to know." Brad exchanged a look with Simon, one that made Zoe's heart sparkle every bit as richly as the ring. "And when a man's being given a son, there are things he needs to say."
"It's man-to-man stuff," Simon told her. "You wouldn't get it."
"Oh." She felt the laugh bubble up through the tears in her throat. "Okay, then."
"Zoe? Give me your hand."
She looked at him first, looked into his eyes. "He's the most precious thing in the world to me." She laid her right hand on Simon's shoulder and gave Brad her left. "We're both yours now."
"We're each other's."
There was warmth as the ring slid onto her finger, a lovely jolt of it as it circled her flesh. "It fits. It's so beautiful. I've never seen anything more beautiful."
"I have." His eyes held hers as he kissed her.
"Can I call you Dad now?" Simon tugged on Brad's sleeve. "Can I, or do I have to wait?" As Brad lifted Simon off his feet, Zoe's already full heart overflowed. "You don't have to wait. Neither do we." With his free hand, Brad pulled Zoe into his arms and made the three of them a
unit. "We don't have to wait for anything."
As cheers sounded from the house, Zoe looked over. Everyone was on the deck, applauding.
"I sort of told them," Simon confessed. "When I went in to get the ring."
"Get back here!" Dana shouted between her cupped hands. "We need champagne and we need it now."
"I wanna watch it pop." Wiggling down, Simon ran for the house.
It seemed to Zoe that everything glowed as if it had been washed with gold. With her hand clutched in Brad's she took the first step down the path toward the house.
Simon leaped onto the deck. The pup missed a step and tumbled, and Moe raced in circles around him. She saw Flynn give Jordan a friendly punch on the arm. And watched as Malory slid her arm around Dana's waist.
Brad's hand was warm against hers as their fingers linked.
And she knew.
"Oh! Oh, of course. How simple." The knowledge filled her like light, like that lovely gold light, had her spinning so her body pressed against Brad's, laughing at the sheer joy of it. "How perfect, and how simple. Hurry."
She ran, tugging him along the path. One she'd chosen, she thought, and that her child had chosen. One that changed everything, and led toward home.
"The key." Tears sparkled on her lashes, and still she laughed as she stepped onto the deck with the man she loved, with her child, with her family. "I know where it is."
She kept Brad's hand in hers as she crossed toward the door.
The kitchen door, she thought. The one used for family, for friends, for those who lived inside. The everyday door that would never be locked against her.
Crouching, she lifted the mat. Beneath it, the key was a glint of gold on wood. "Welcome home," she said softly, and picked it up.
"It's my home now, you see?" With the key resting in her palm, she turned to Brad. "I had to believe it, expect it, accept it. All of that. I faced him here, last night, when I was so low, so afraid, so tired. But I faced him, and he couldn't make me give up. And I found it because I fought for it. And for you, and for myself."
She curled her fingers around it. "We've beaten him."
The wind came up in one, long howl. It raged across the deck with enough force to hurl her back, to slam her down. Through the roar of it, she heard the shouts, the crash of glass.
She rolled, saw her friends scattered over the deck, saw Brad using his body to protect Simon from flying glass and debris. And saw the blue fog creeping over the ground toward them.
The key pulsed in her fist, a frantic heartbeat.
Kane would kill for it, she knew. He would destroy them all to stop that beat. Crawling on her belly, she reached Brad and Simon. "Is he hurt? Baby, are you hurt?"
"Mom!"
"He's all right!" Brad shouted. "Get inside. Get in the house."
Her home, she reminded herself grimly. The bastard wouldn't get inside her home again, would never, never touch what was hers. She slid the key into Brad's hand, closed his fingers tight around it.
"Protect them. Get Rowena. Dana and Malory can get Rowena."
If she gave them the chance, Zoe thought, and bracing herself, she rolled away and off the deck. She kept her fist closed tight as if she held something precious in it. Ignoring the shouts from behind her, she pushed herself to her feet. Bent double against the fury of the wind, she lurched toward the trees.
He would come after her, and that would buy time. As long as he believed she had the key, he would focus on her. The others were nothing to him now. Bugs, she reminded herself as she wrapped her arms around a tree trunk to gain her balance. He wouldn't waste time swatting bugs now.
Until the key was in the lock, the war wasn't over, so she would take the battle with her.
The mists twined around her ankles, seemed to pinch and tug so she panicked enough to kick out and scream. When she fell to her knees again, the stench of it filled her mouth, her lungs. Choking, she dragged herself up and ran.
The wind wasn't as fierce now, but the cold—oh, the cold was barbed and ate through the leather of Brad's jacket, into her sweater, into her flesh. Snow began to fall in fat, dirty flakes.