Page 74 of The Night
“Like… Marry me, Liam.”
I snorted. “Oooh, pretty sure I already did.Kindof an overachiever that way.”
“No, I mean…marry me, Liam.” He picked up my hand where it rested against his chest and slid something onto my left ring finger.
“Holy shit! Is that…?” I sat up and peered at my hand through the glow of the window candles, then my eyes sought his. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Nope.” He held up another gold band, just like the one on my hand. “You left yours in Vegas. I brought them both home.”
Because deep down he’d known we’d need them.
Well,fuck.
I took the ring he held up and slid it on his finger, then buried my face in his neck and let out a very masculine sound that was half laugh, half sob. “Okay, that’s enough. No more being sweet today. I’ve had all I can take.”
Gideon’s laugh rumbled through me. “Buckle up, buttercup. Not done quite yet. I would bedevastatingly thrilledif you would live with me forever. If you and Hazel—and any other kids we decide to have—would be my family. If you’d handle the Santa-crazed idiots of O’Leary with me, and eat mountains of frosting with me, and decorate the house with a disgusting amount of fire-hazard Christmas shit with me—”
“Eat Thanksgiving at your non-existent dining table with you?” I teased, propping my chin on his chest and wiping my eyes. “Handle all the vipers that might end up in our HVAC system with you?”
“God forbid.”
“Listen to Kiddie Bop Christmasover and over and overwith you?” I dug my finger into his ribs.
He snorted. “Wow, Lavender. You’re really not selling this thing, you know? I might have to rethink.”
“Too late. Youloveme,” I told him.
His smile was bright enough to light up the night. “I really, really do.”
Epilogue
Gideon
Weaver Street was a mob scene.
O’Learians crowded the streets decked out in the obscenest Christmas-wear I’d ever encountered. I was so used to seeing people dressed as Santa Claus by now I wondered if I’d evenrecognizeanyone after New Year’s. My eyes were assaulted by red hats, green coats, striped pants, polka-dotted scarves—and that was just Henry Lattimer’s wardrobe.
“Morning, Gideon!” he called from his position in front of the hardware store. He had a broom over his shoulder like a bayonet and kept one eye on the overcast sky at all times, standing guard against any potential snowflakes that might fall and attack his sidewalk. “Morning, Liam! Miss Hazel.” He tossed her a wink that made her giggle.
“Morning, Henry,” I said as we got closer. “Happy… Parade Thing.”
Henry didn’t reply at first. His eyes were glued to the sweater just visible beneath my open leather jacket. “Is that…?”
“Mmm,” I agreed. “A Christmas sweater. Hazel picked it out for me last night at the store when we were getting tree lights.”
“But it’s…” He stared at the reindeer dancing under a disco ball, searching for an adjective. I raised an eyebrow, daring him to comment.
“Beautiful?” Hazel said encouragingly.
Hen looked from her, to my sweater, to Liam, who was tucked under my arm and could barely contain his laughter. His old face went soft and his mustache twitched. “It’s beautiful, alright.”
Hazel beamed. “You know,” she said, apropos of absolutely nothing, “Daddy and Gideon aremarried. But I can still call GideonGideon. For now.”
Hen’s eyes widened and his gaze ping-ponged between us again. “That right?”
Liam grinned and nodded. “Yep, Hazel and I are gonna be sticking around for a while.”
“Apermanentwhile,” I corrected, pulling him fractionally closer. He rested his head on my shoulder and his wool hat—which was my wool hat—scratched my chin.