The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,344

skip down the hall to her bedroom.

“Would it bother you if she called me Mom?” Astaire asks when Honor’s out of earshot. “I mean, I’m fine with it if that’s what she wants … and if that’s what you want.”

I take the seat beside her, placing her papers on the coffee table and pulling her onto my lap.

“As far as I’m concerned, Astaire, you are her mother now.” I sweep a gossamer-soft strand hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “You tuck her in. You read her stories. You bathe her. You bandage her scraped knees. You sing her songs. You love her father unconditionally—more than he probably deserves.”

I manage a slow smile out of her.

“We’re a family,” I tell her. “The three of us. This is your family. You belong here. With us.”

“I know,” she says. She thinks I’m hounding her again about moving in. “My lease is up in June, remember?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Astaire lifts a brow.

“I want to make this official,” I say.

“You once told me you thought marriage was an outdated institution …”

“And in many ways I still feel that way—except when it comes to you.” I cup her face in my hands, taste her lips. “Call me old-fashioned, but the idea of spending the rest of my life taking care of you makes me feel things I never thought I was capable of feeling.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

I kiss her again, my mouth grazing hers. “Everything.”

“Everything?”

“I was numb before I knew you,” I say. “But with you, I’m alive for the first time. You make everything new and exciting and I know I sound like a greeting card right now but I don’t care because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Astaire Carraro. And I want you to know that I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life. You’re my person. You’re my reason. You’re my whole damn world.”

Tears cloud her eyes and her palms rest against my chest. I’m sure my heart’s pounding a hundred miles an hour.

“Marry me, Astaire Carraro.” I don’t have a ring and this proposal wasn’t planned, but I’m nothing if not an opportunist. “Spend the rest of your life with me. With us.”

Her baby blue gaze searches mine and for a moment, I swear forever flashes before me like scenes from a movie.

Astaire in white.

Astaire holding a baby in her arms.

Astaire cheering on Honor at a basketball game.

Astaire forcing us to pose for pictures in front of some theme park castle.

Astaire lying in bed next to me as I quote Plato and we enjoy ourselves an intense rousing argument on ancient Greek philosophy before jumping one another …

“Yes.” She traces her fingertip along my jaw before leaning in for a kiss. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Bennett Schoenbach.”

Epilogue

Bennett

* * *

Three years later …

* * *

“How do I look?” Astaire runs her palms down the glimmering gold dress that hugs her body—and matches her soul.

“Gorgeous,” I bounce our son, Charlie, on my hip. His Schoenbach-blue eyes light when he sees his momma. “And late. We were supposed to head downstairs ten minutes ago …”

“Shoot, shoot, shoot.” She bends over the vanity, gliding a bullet of rose-pink lipstick over her full lips. “Is Eulalia here?”

“She’s with Honor in the playroom.”

Of course. Those two are inseparable. And Eulalia is practically family at this point, the closest thing to a grandmother our children will ever have.

Astaire gathers the hem of her gown in her hands and steps into a pair of crystal-studded stilettos before grabbing her faux-fur stole.

It’s the Elmhurst’s grand re-opening, three years in the making.

While we hoped to have the place up and running much sooner, we also wanted to give it a full restoration, which entailed permits, roadblocks, hundreds of phone calls to experts, endless man hours sourcing miscellaneous theatre-related antiques from all over the world—amongst many other things.

There was also the design and remodel of the storage space into the home of our dreams …

The sale of my corporation.

The year we spent ricocheting around the globe, anywhere the wind blew us …

The wedding in Switzerland with Ophelia officiating …

The birth of our son late last year …

Now that we’re back home and settled, we’ve recently begun the home study process, hoping to foster a child or two in the near future with the intention of adopting at some point.

“I’m so nervous.” She grins at our son, tickles the underside of his chin, and leans in for a kiss,