“Before today?”
“Well, yesterday,” I grin. “I fired Nolan. I heard what he said to you and a bunch of other stuff I don’t want to get into. Let’s just say Nolan is at the police department this morning answering some questions.”
“What?” she gasps.
I run my thumbs down her delicate jaw line. “I made a speech today where I said I will support the Land Bill and that you were the love of my life and that I kind of like your kid too.”
“You did?” she whispers, her lip quivering.
“I did. Because I want everyone to know it from my mouth, not from some angled statement from Nolan or Rose or PR. From me.”
She hugs me again and I squeeze her tight.
“I’m never letting you go,” I tell her. “You know that right? If you can’t handle me being overbearing and protecting you and Huxley, doing what I have to do to sleep at night, then you better just get over it.”
“One thing at a time. You have an election today.”
“The vote that means the most is yours,” I say, leading her in the house.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve sealed the deal on mine, Mayor.”
My brothers and father are in the kitchen when we enter. They see us and stop talking, waiting for the verdict.
Grinning, I go to her and pull her against my side. "Guys, meet Alison Baker. Ali, you know Graham and Lincoln." They exchange a small wave. "That's Ford, and my father, Harris."
"Nice to meet you," Ford says with a nod of his head.
My father extends his hand and smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Alison."
"Likewise, Mr. Landry." She takes his hand and shakes it.
"Please. Call me Harris."
“Where’s Huxley?” I ask, looking around.
Lincoln laughs. “Where do you think? Getting my baseball stuff out of my car. Come on, Ford,” he says, “let’s go play some catch.”
“Sounds good.”
My youngest brothers head outside and my father and Graham head into the den, leaving Ali and I together.
“What happens now?” she asks, biting her lip.
“My sisters will be coming in today and . . .”
“Not with that, Barrett. With us.”
“Well,” I grin, trying to compensate for my nervousness, “I had a talk with Huxley last night.”
“What?” she exclaims.
I shrug. “He called me. We talked.”
Gasping she says, “I had no idea!”
“Well, I told him he could call me anytime and he took me up on that. We talked about you and me and him and how we were going to deal with this whole thing.”
Her cheeks turn pink and I stroke them with my thumbs.
“And we decided,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her lips, “that Hux needs help with you, so I volunteered for the job.”
“He needs help with me?”
“Apparently you were crying in the shower . . .”
She looks to the floor, but I won’t have it. I tip her head back so she’s looking into my eyes.
“There will be no tears, Ali, unless they’re from laughing so hard you cry. After tomorrow, we will sit down, you, me, and Huxley, and we’ll decide where we go from there. Because wherever I go, you both are coming with me. Okay?”
The look on her face is better than any response she could give me.
Alison
Barrett leads me up the stairs, going left at the top instead of right. We walk down the hall and into a room at the far end. I can hear the guys playing on the lawn and it makes me so ridiculously happy that Huxley is accepted in this family that I could burst.
We enter a plush bedroom, all done up in whites and pale yellows. The bed is oversized with the fluffiest looking blankets and pillows I've ever seen. It's almost like a cloud, a giant marshmallow of a room. The afternoon sun shining through the windows makes it seem like a dream, a vision of happiness.
The door closes behind me and his arms wrap around me at once. "Thank you," he whispers, resting his chin on the top of my head.
"For what?"
I feel his body shrug behind me, a long breath escaping his lips. "For being you. For wanting me. For making me see the things I needed to see."
"I didn't make you see anything," I say. "You chose to do that."
"I never would've done it without you. Tonight is the first night I'll go to sleep without a million pounds of guilt sitting on my shoulders. I feel freer than I ever remember feeling."
I twist in his arms to face him. His jaw line looks more angular than I remember, his features edible. My hand cups the side of his face, my thumb stroking his cheek. "That makes me happy," I whisper.
"You know what would make me happy?"
"What's that?"
"Showing you how much you mean to me. Is that all right?"