She leaned into his palm and floored him with her next four words. "I love you, too."
He simply stared at her, mouth ajar for several seconds. When he finally got his tongue to cooperate, he said, "You heard my message."
"I didn't get it until this morning. I came straight here."
What? He blinked, digesting that bit of information. "I thought you heard it and were ignoring me."
She shook her head. "I heard it and cried in the middle of a café over a half-eaten muffin."
He pulled her close, and relief washed through him when her arms locked around his neck. "The one time I didn't listen to my heart," she whispered against his ear, "and it was right."
He held her tighter, not a hundred percent certain he wasn't having a very vivid, alcohol-induced dream.
"I may have apologized for saying ‘I love you' that first time, but it was the truth. Crazy as it sounds, part of me just … knew."
He loosened his hold on her just enough to focus on her bright green eyes. "I don't care if you keep your store where it is." He wanted to make sure she understood he was not trying to cage her. This was her life, their life. "I don't care if you stay in your apartment. I mean, I do care, but only because I don't want you away from me for another second." He gave her a watery smile. It was true, he didn't. And telling her felt undeniably right. Throat choked with emotion, he managed to hold back the tears when he said, "Please don't shut me out. We can move in together later. Or I could move in with you."
A bemused twinkle lit her eyes. "You'd move into my five-hundred-square-foot loft?"
"It has everything I need." He kissed her, savoring the feel of her lips for what felt like the first time in forever. "You." He palmed her tummy. "Our baby."
She grinned, and he thought it might be the most beautiful sight in the world. "But I love your place. The bedroom, the shower," she said, ticking off rooms on her fingers. "Your desk." She lifted one eyebrow and gave him a saucy smile.
"You're teasing me at a time like this?" But he couldn't help smiling back at her. He had a vivid memory of those rooms. They'd made love in each of them during the week when he'd been too blind to see what was right in front of him.
"I remember." He palmed her hair and rubbed the silken strands between his fingers, kissing her when she tipped her chin. "I remember every breath," he said. "Every sound." He kissed her again.
"Do you remember the balcony?" she whispered against his lips.
"I remember you."
She caught his face in her hands, keeping her soft, pink lips just out of reach. "I remember you," she repeated. "We could make a few new memories at my place. You know, before I move in with you."
He was trying really, really hard not to simultaneously laugh and cry. "You're moving in with me," he said as she nestled the tip of her finger in the cleft in his chin.
She raised her eyes to his. "I am."
He grinned, a big, dopey grin that made his cheeks hurt.
"I'm going to marry you, too," she said, draping her arms around his neck. "I'm going to design and sew my own wedding dress, though, so it might be a while."
His chest tightened, his eyes burned. He was so grateful, so blessed for this second chance, that he scrunched his eyes closed and thanked God before he realized he was doing it. Thanked Him for answering the prayer of a drunken moron who had no idea how to talk to the Almighty. Then he thanked his mom. Because he knew she was up in heaven putting a good word in for him. It was the only way that prayer had a chance of making it through.
And when he opened his eyes, he focused on Kimber: his love, his future wife, the mother of his unborn child. She was smiling, glowing, and probably had no idea she'd just pulled him out of the deepest depression he'd ever suffered.
"Take as long as you want," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "Take whatever you want."
She stroked the stubble on his face. "I want you."
Pressing her close, he dropped his forehead on hers and uttered the same words he had the night she'd been playing dress-up in his clothes. Only now, they meant more. Now, they meant forever.
"Honey," he said, kissing her softly before speaking the rest in a low, husky baritone. "You can have me."
EPILOGUE
Push! Push!"
If Angel said "push" one more time, Kimber was going to punch her in her perfect nose. "It's fine," she growled under her breath. Wait … growling? On her wedding day? That wasn't right.
Her soon-to-be sister-in-law gave up on trying to shut the stubborn door to the chapel's small bridal room-more of a glorified closet-and regarded her, an indignant frown tilting her mouth.
"Your brother and I have a baby together, you know. There's nothing he hasn't seen." Especially after the birth of their son, Caleb Henry.
Somehow, Kimber had prepped and planned and sewn, and managed to throw together a respectable wedding while pregnant. At the same time, she had hired additional staff for Hobo Chic, as well as opening a new, upscale store on Michigan Avenue. Of course, she'd had help. Without Landon and Shane on marketing and advertising, and Angel on logo design, Cheeky Chic wouldn't exist.
Kimber had help getting into her wedding dress, too, thanks to a pit-bull personal trainer she'd hired. After the "I dos" she planned on eating her weight in wedding cake. She'd earned it.
"Well, he hasn't seen you in a wedding dress," Gloria argued from the other side of the room. Her ink-black hair swept along her shoulders, her lips painted in shiny red gloss. Not to mention the healthy rack bursting from the bodice of her purple gown. Kimber's son happily dropped his head into Glo's cleavage and fell asleep whenever he had the chance. Boys and boobs. The fascination started at birth.
Kimber adjusted her top, her own swollen breasts a new challenge.
"She's right," Angel agreed, looping her arm in Gloria's. Her long brown hair was up, revealing gorgeous shoulders.
"You two are so beautiful," Kimber said. "I have to take a picture. Where's my phone?"
A camera on a strap appeared through the gap in the door. "I have one. If it's safe to come in."
"It's safe, Evan, come in." Kimber flicked a look at Gloria, who flashed him a warm smile. But she didn't smile at him like she used to-like she wanted to strip him bare and do torrid things to him. No, the only heat between Glo and Evan now was the blazing trail of his illustration career.
As he slipped through the door, Kimber heard her baby's coo. She clutched her chest and sent a look of longing toward the hallway.
"Oh no, you don't!" Angel ran for the door to block it, but Caleb's soft clucks outside the door effectively broke his aunt's will.
"Come on, Angel." Kimber smiled at her friend as Landon's deep, soothing words spoken to their son lifted on the air. "Please let them in?"
Reluctantly, Angel opened the door. Landon smiled at his sister. "I was about to hand him off to Dad, but he and Lyon are ushering the final guests … " His words faded as his eyes strayed to Kimber. Angel hefted Caleb into her arms as Landon's face pulled into a wide grin.
She stood, brushing out the skirts of her white dress while she studied the man she would marry minutes from now. Landon wore a trim, black tuxedo, black bow tie, and a crisp, white shirt. Classic. Handsome. Sexy as sin.
A snap sounded from behind her. Evan, looking fetching in his own rented tux, lowered the camera until it rested on his chest. "You should see your face, man. Priceless."
But Landon ignored his brother, not taking his eyes from Kimber. She felt the tears begin to pool behind her lids. There was too much joy to contain. Too many blessings to count.
He took her hands and looked down at her, his eyes their true color. "Not having second thoughts, I hope."
She shook her head from side to side, the veil on her crown swishing.
Feeling the weight of their audience, he tilted an eyebrow at the crowd in the room, and Angel and Caleb, Gloria, then Evan exited through the door that wouldn't quite close.
Landon's brow raised above the rims of his black glasses. "We have a few minutes." A wicked grin crossed his face. He pulled her close. "Whatever shall we do?"
"You wouldn't," she said with mock alarm. "Not in a church, it's like … illegal or something."
The look in his eyes went from predatory to reverent. "I wouldn't. Next time I make love to you, I'll be your husband."
Husband. The word sent chills over her entire body.
"You look beautiful, by the way."
"Thank you."
"Thank you," he said with a twitch of his lips.
"For?"