Butterface(43)

“I never lied about how I feel about you,” he said, reaching up with his free hand and brushing back a strand of her hair that had tumbled free.

The sirens grew louder, and she could see the fire engine in her peripheral vision, but she couldn’t look away from Ford.

“The fact is, you deserve better than me. I’m the lucky one, and I fucked it all up because I was too scared of losing you to tell you the truth, to tell you that I’d fallen in love with you.” He cupped her face with his large hands and forced her to look up at him. “I love your laugh, your smile, and the way you look at the world as if it’s like the Victorian, just needing someone to love it.” He smiled down at her, warm and encompassing, and promising so many tomorrows. “I love how you feel in my arms. I love how you make me feel every time you walk into a room. I even love being stuck in this damn hole with you, because it means that I get to see your beautiful face.”

“Don’t,” she said, continuing to fight the hope expanding in her chest. “It’s okay. I know how I look and I really am good with it now.”

The sirens were blaring by now as the engine pulled to a stop in front of her house, but she barely heard them or saw the firefighters getting out. Ford was the only person that mattered.

“I do, too. You’re beautiful, and I love the woman you are because of your face, not in spite of it.” He dipped his head down and brushed her lips with his, setting off a cascade of sensations that left her breathless. “I fucked everything up, and I can’t say I won’t mess up again, but I love you, Gina Luca, and I’m okay with doing whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

She glanced up at him, looking, really looking, at the man who’d twisted up her world and thrown it around, and realized that he was telling the truth. He loved her.

“We should probably let the fire department get us out of here now, or the neighbors will expect this kind of show every night,” she said, because of course she was the woman who said the wrong thing at the wrong time. This was even worse than pointing out the open bar when he’d asked if he could buy her a drink at the wedding.

“Well, I’d heard that public declarations of love were romantic,” he said, dipping his head down for a kiss but stopping millimeters short of touching his lips to hers.

Her heartbeat sped up again. At this rate, she was going to need blood pressure medication or a kiss. She knew which one she preferred. “And I’d heard they were silly.”

“Whoever told you that was an idiot,” he said.

“But I love him anyway,” she said, meaning every single word.

Rising up on her tiptoes, she closed the distance between their mouths, kissing him with every bit of everything she had. At that moment, there were too many everythings to be separated. There was love and hope and anticipation and, yeah, nerves, because the important things in life were always a little bit scary, but in a good way.

“Are you catching all of this, Mom?” Frankie’s voice cut through the euphoria of the kiss.

Well, that and the number of people stomping across her front yard. She looked around. There were way more firefighters there than the call needed. Front and center of the crowd was Frankie, who was holding up his phone. Kate Hartigan was visible in the majority of the screen but there was no missing—event though they were in the little box on the right of the FaceTime screen—Gina and Ford with their kiss-swollen lips.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, but unlike the last time she and Ford had been kissing onscreen, it was from pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Hey Mom,” Frankie said. “Let Finian know that I call dibs on being the best man at the wedding.”

Gina gulped. “He hasn’t asked me to marry him.”

“Good Lord, Ford.” Frankie shook his head. “Do I have to smack your scrawny butt around again, or are you going to get it right finally?”

“Shut up, Frankie,” Ford said. “I’ve got this.”

There wasn’t a ring, and he didn’t get down on one knee. Instead, they were stuck in a hole in her front porch surrounded by firefighters while Ford’s mom watched on FaceTime.

“Gina Luca, I don’t deserve you, but I’d be the luckiest guy in the world if you’d agree to be my wife.”

Fighting back tears of joy, she let her gaze travel around the people slowly crowding in on them. Here she was, about to kiss a guy while a crowd of people watched and smiled, and that old nausea started to rumble in her belly. But then her gaze collided with Ford’s again and she could see he was even more afraid of rejection than she was. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead, and his eyes were literally begging her to forgive him. To love him. His lips mouthed the word, “Please,” and her heart cracked open. All the insecurities she used to protect her heart from pain, barricades she’d spent decades erecting, just…melted away.

She wasn’t sure she could trust her voice, so she mouthed back, “Yes.”

His face lit up like she’d made him the happiest man in the world. And she believed him. His lips found hers in a hungry kiss, her arms winding around his neck, her fingers getting lost in his thick hair and holding him to her. Cheers broke out from the assembled firefighters and a few happy exclamations from Kate on the phone. They barely noticed.

Eventually Ford pulled back, his big hands cupping her face. “You don’t happen to know any good wedding planners, do you?”

“I might.” What a smart-ass this man she loved was.

And then before she could even formulate a thought, he kissed her again.





Chapter Twenty-One

Five Years Later…

It was total chaos in the Victorian’s backyard as about twenty mini Hartigans, mini Lucas, and a smattering of other little kids squealed in glee as they ran from the bounce house to the face-painting station to the puppet show in the far corner. In the middle of it all was the birthday girl, sprinting toward the inflated castle wearing her favorite gift—a bright red firefighter’s helmet from Uncle Frankie.

“Out of my way, big nose,” one of the kids said, shoving Amalie Hartigan out of her place in line.

Ford jumped up from his chair on the porch and was halfway down the stairs when Amalie pulled back her right fist.

“Amalie,” Gina’s voice called out.

Their little girl froze, then turned to her mother with as close to an innocent smile anyone with Hartigan blood could pull off—even at three years old.

“We don’t hit our friends,” Gina said as she walked over to Ford’s side on the stairs. “And Christopher, it’s not nice to call people names. Do it again and I’ll tell your mom.”

The little dark-haired boy, whose fifth birthday party had been the weekend before, glanced over at his mom and then turned to Amalie, who was practically his twin in all but parentage. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, let’s go fly.” Amalie grabbed her cousin’s hand and they clambered inside the bounce house together.

Only once they were inside and giggling together did Ford let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Calm down there, papa bear,” Gina said with a laugh. “That won’t be the last time she gets teased for having the Luca schnoz, but I’m glad she has it.”

“Even though you hated it for so long?” he asked, trying to figure out where his wife was going with this.

“I’ve decided that it’s lucky.” She tapped the tip of her nose. “It means she’ll end up with the perfect man who loves her for who she really is—just like it was lucky for me.”

“I’m the lucky one here.” He curled his arm around her waist and brought her closer, dipped his head, and kissed the most beautiful woman in the world.