Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers #5) - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,75

he did, he saw an index card between two keys. Were the keys broken, or was that a note, or—

He sucked in a noisy breath when he picked it up and stared at his own printing, distinct and familiar and…

Oh God.

DECLAN’S PROMISE

The words stared back at him, in screaming capital letters, raised like a dead man from the emotional basement, which was the only place Declan would expect the memory of this card to make an appearance.

I, Declan Joseph Mahoney, being of sound mind and body…

He closed his eyes, transported back, still hearing her voice as she teased. It was pretty sound last night.

The memory sucker-punched him, forcing him to open his eyes and read.

Do hereby swear that I will wait for Evangeline May Hewitt…

And what had she said to that? There’s nothing worse than a broken promise. Good God, that’s all he had done for twenty years. Break promises.

For twenty years and anytime in between, I promise to be whatever she needs me to be. I will be her friend, lover, husband, confidant, partner, provider…

That’s when he’d caught her crying, he remembered, when she said, You already are everything, Dec.

Really? Because then he turned into a self-involved promise-breaker. He forced himself to read the rest.

…chauffeur, chef, traveling partner, fellow camper, handyman, and father to our

He’d never finished writing the sentence. The one promise he could still keep, and he hadn’t written the damn words, but he did sign the promise with a flourish. And sometime after that, he’d lost this card. He’d remembered it only a few years later and assumed he’d thrown it away, like the rest of his life back then.

But someone had kept it. His grandmother, of course. And she left it here for Evie to find. To what end? To make her remember that he was the worst friend ever? To make her—

“You are not going to make me play ‘Ode to Joy.’”

He stuffed the card into his jeans pocket without giving himself a nanosecond to consider why he was doing that. He had to think about it, had to reread it, had to take at least some time to wallow in self-loathing and thank God she’d forgiven him. He had to…

“Declan?”

Of course, Dr. Dolittle would read his thoughts and know everything.

He turned, determined not to give anything away. “Yeah?”

She frowned at him, coming closer. “Are you all right?”

“I was just…thinking.”

“About your toast?” She handed him a glass of red wine. “Because I have mine all ready.” She grinned. “It’s a good one.”

“I can’t wait for this.” He held up the wine and prayed his hand was steady.

“What did the grape do when he was crushed?” she asked, her eyes glinting with humor.

“He let out a little wine?”

“Oh, you know me too well.” She dinged his glass. “Your turn.”

“Evie…” He took a slow breath, not sure how to say what he had to say and definitely not sure how to turn it into a toast. He couldn’t joke. This was too serious.

Her frown returned as she studied him. “What is it, Dec?”

“Let’s have a baby.”

Chapter Nineteen

Evie barely clung to her wineglass. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious.”

“I can tell.” She backed up, more from the sheer force of his expression than the words, which were…shocking. And kind of insanely beautiful. “What…made you want this?”

“You. Today. This house. Your family. And mine. Us.” His voice was thick on the last word, and he tried to laugh it off. “I can’t even form a sentence.”

“Really? ’Cause I think ‘Let’s have a baby’ is a pretty well-formed sentence.” She lifted her glass and angled her head. “Can I even drink this, then?”

“So you’ll do it?”

She managed a laugh at his enthusiasm, and maybe to cover the shock wave rolling through her. “I’ll drink to talking about it. How about that?” She tried to take a small sip, and he did, too, holding her gaze with one so fiery and intense she couldn’t look away.

“That’s a start,” he said after he swallowed, leading her toward the settee.

“Declan.” She dropped down, happy for the support of something under her. “I don’t know—”

“I do,” he said, the words bathed in certainty. “I know. It’s the right thing to do. And, Evie, before you launch into a laundry list of complications, hear me out. You call the shots. You make the decisions. You live where you want to live, and you’re the boss on this. I’d love to be in our baby’s life. Hell, I’d love to be in your life, in whatever capacity you