Page 33 of The Locksmith’s Promise (The Promise Duet #1)

You and Me

M aggie

Two weeks later, Baxter and I, wrapped up head to toe against the cold, stood in front of the now empty lot with Miller.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Miller griped. Squinting against the winter sun, he shifted from one foot to the other. “You need to teach them faster.”

I laughed at the thought of Miller, who’d been a total hell-raiser in his day, sitting in his house with his hands over his ears while his son and ours mutilated one rock song after another.

“Are they that bad?” I quirked an eyebrow.

“They’re fucking horrible,” Baxter admitted, then laughed. “It’ll come.”

It had taken a couple of weekends, but Baxter, Miller, John, and Eric had cleared the lot of all the debris from Baxter’s past. All that lay before us now was a pristine acre of land, sleeping soundly under a blanket of sun-kissed white.

As for Baxter moving into the apartment with me, Corwin, and of course, Jeff, that only took one afternoon.

Which was good because between giving music lessons at the school, his contract work, and being the only certified locksmith an hour in every direction, Baxter was working forty to fifty hours a week.

But every night, he came home to us.

He teared up then fucked me into the mattress when I gave him a key, and I wished I’d given it to him sooner.

I still caught Corwin staring, wide-eyed and slightly awe-struck, when Baxter made all of us breakfast on the weekends.

Family dinners were sacred, but there was nothing holy about what went on in our bedroom when the lights went down.

I shivered and it wasn’t from the brisk November air.

“We’ll build a garage,” Baxter answered then threw me a wink. “An unattached garage where they can play all day and night without bothering anybody.”

“Good,” Miller grunted. “It’s the least you can do.”

“What about a music studio?” I suggested. “Might be nice for you to have a dedicated space to teach as well as for the boys to practice.”

He flushed and cocked a brow. “You think so?”

Every now and then, it hit me how unaccustomed Baxter was to asking for anything for himself.

“Sure,” I replied, raising my face to the sun. “You’ll need a space to build your business.”

Teaching at the school was fine for now but wasn’t a good long-term solution. And while Baxter wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to go all in with teaching music, he was equally ambivalent about his work as a contractor.

The only thing he was sure of was locks.

And after a lifetime of working just to survive, he deserved the opportunity to slowly feel his way forward before committing to either venture.

And if he wanted to dabble in all three?

That was fair, too.

“The contractors in Mapleville are amazing,” Miller interrupted my chain of thought.

“They’re a family-run business, three brothers and their dad,” he explained.

“They were great when Maxine and I renovated the house. They had no problem with us doing some of the work ourselves to keep the costs down.”

“You don’t have to keep selling them, Mills. We hired them,” Baxter teased. “We’re breaking ground in the spring.”

“Good. And you know, between you, me, Eric, and John, we can do a lot of the work,” he continued.

Baxter gripped him by the shoulder. “I know, man.”

Miller slapped his palm over Baxter’s. Clearing his throat, he stepped back and looked at me. “I’m going to head home to help Maxine get ready. We’ll see you tonight?”

“You bet,” I replied.

“Jenny always brings her cinnamon buns when we do potluck.” Miller grinned before trotting to his truck. “Man, it’s good to have the whole crew back together.”

“Poor guy,” I murmured.

Pulling my back against his chest, Baxter wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. “Great guy,” he corrected.

“Truly.” I turned in his embrace and looped my arms around his neck. “You’re a great guy,” I murmured. “The best guy, actually.”

He smiled down at me. “I try.”

I smiled back, happier than I ever dreamed I could be. “Well? It’s been two weeks. How’s family life treating you?”

He shrugged, the corners of his lips turning down. “It’s not exactly what I thought it would be.”

I blinked and drew back, studying his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Releasing me, he stepped back and shoved his hands into his front pockets. Rocking back on his heels, he tipped his chin back and studied me. “It’s just not how I imagined it.”

I turned my face away as I absorbed his words.

What did he think it would be? What exactly had he imagined?

I turned around and took two steps away from him, then spun on my heel to find him down on one knee in the snow.

Eyes sober, he held a small box out in front of him.

My questions died in my throat.

“See,” he murmured. “I thought you’d be wearing my ring by now. And I imagined us married.”

“Oh,” I breathed, folding my hands under my chin as I made my way back to him. “Sounds exactly like my dream.”

He tipped his chin up. “You want to be my wife, Maggie?”

I nodded fervently, my throat closed tight.

He opened the box and took out the ring. “Give me your hand, baby.”

I whipped off my glove and held out my left hand, anticipation making me tremble as my eyes welled with tears.

He grasped my hand in his and slipped the ring over my knuckle.

Remaining on his knee, he smiled up at me. “Maggie, you’ve just made me the happiest man on earth. You are my dream, Maggie, just you.

“I want to give you everything,” he continued, “but I’m going to start by building you a house.

“With flowerbeds for your tulips and a bright, sunshine yellow, front door.

“I’m going to give you a key made of solid gold.”

My tears streamed down my face as his hold on my hand tightened.

His dark eyes flashed. “And we’re going to be a family. You, me, Corwin,” he chuckled, his eyes lighting up, “and Jeff.”

I nodded and took a breath. Covering my womb with my free hand, I added, “And baby Bax.”

He nodded up at me, his smile fixed, eyes searching mine.

“Did you—what?” he stuttered as his smile slowly faded.

My eyes stung at the naked hope in his. “We’re having a baby, Bax.”

Dropping my hand, he grasped my hips and jerked me forward until his forehead met my tummy.

Fingers digging into my flesh, shoulders shaking, he pressed his face tightly against me.

I cupped the back of his head and held him, murmuring my love for him while my tears baptized his tawny head.

His back rose and fell with his deep breath and he rose to his feet. Taking me in his arms, he curled his body over mine, cradled my head in his hand, and kissed me.

My entire body melted into his arms as he drew back and tipped his forehead down to meet mine.

Harsh lines bracketed his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Thank you, Maggie.” He huffed out a laugh. “I hope you’re not expecting a long engagement.”

I laughed, but three weeks later, on a Thursday evening, we stood together in front of our friends and family at the front of a tiny church in Mistlevale.

And while Miller and Corwin stood on Baxter’s right, and Jenny was gracious enough to stand on my left, when it came time to say our vows, it was just me and him.

Me and him against the world.

He took my hands in his. Eyes soft and warm, he held my gaze as he answered the age-old questions.

Welled up when I did the same.

Then cupped my face in his hands and dipped his head.

Voice gruff, he proclaimed his truth. “Wife, I belong to you and you alone.”

I nodded, my throat tight as I met his eyes.

Then he leaned in and, pressing his sweet mouth to mine, he sealed his promise.

Drawing back, he wiped my tears away with his thumbs.

And his smile lit up every corner of the ancient church.

“You and me, Mags.”

“You and me,” I choked.

He swallowed and nodded with determination. “You and me against the world.”