The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(121)

The words made her heart ache in a bittersweet swell. “That’s very sweet,” she whispered. “And I’m sure I scared the life out of you, but you don’t have to—”

“Check your phone messages. I was way ahead of your dramatics.”

“What do you mean?”

He smoothed her hair back with one bandaged hand. “It means I didn’t need to almost lose you to realize that I love you, Honor.”

Ratty—er, Spike—licked some more tears, as they seemed to be flowing out of her, then turned to bite Tom’s hand.

He smiled, that goofy, crooked, sweet smile that made her heart stutter with love, and she found that she was smiling back. “Say yes, miss.”

“What was the question again?”

His smile grew. “Will you marry me? For no reason this time, other than the fact that I can’t live without you and will probably die of misery if you don’t.”

“In that case, I guess I have no choice.”

He leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll take that as a yes.”





EPILOGUE

Eighteen months later

THE AUDITORIUM WAS extremely crowded, loud and didn’t smell so great. Then again, it didn’t smell so bad, either. Honor was pretty used to it by now.

“Do you need anything, darling? All set? Hungry?”

“I’m fine, Tom. Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

“Yeah. Good idea.” He didn’t sit down. He did bend down and give her a kiss, however, then resumed pacing.

“I’m afraid to sit down,” Goggy said, sitting down, anyway. “The germs in here! Do they clean it every day, do you think?”

“I don’t know, Goggy.”

“They should’ve held this at the activity center at Rushing Creek,” the old lady said. “Much cleaner.” Not that the activity center was big enough, but yes, Goggy and Pops had moved into the “asylum,” a month after the Old House fire, and they loved it there. Pops flirted with “those trashy sixtysomethings,” according to Goggy, and still showed up to check the vines every day. Goggy took up swimming in the Olympic-size pool and had yet to drown, and no one got food poisoning, though Goggy came up to the New House at least twice a week to cook and fight with Mrs. Johnson (who was still called just that, despite her marital status).

Today, the entire Holland clan had come out for the big event, front row seats, of course. Even Abby had come home from NYU, looking incredibly glamorous with her new bangs and leather jacket. Ned was flirting with Sarah Cooper, Levi’s little sister, much to Levi’s chagrin. Faith and Levi held hands and smooched occasionally, their toddler son asleep in the stroller. Even the Kelloggs had come, too, and while Janice still stared at Tom like she wanted to smear him with butter, well, it was nice for Charlie.

“Drink this,” Mrs. Johnson said, handing her a thermos and patting Spike’s head. “You need to stay hydrated. It’s cucumber water. Very healthful and delicious.”

“How’s my grandchild?” Dad asked, rubbing Honor’s tummy. “Hello in there! Grandpa can’t wait to meet you!”

Yep, she was pregnant. Four and a half months, and already totally in love with the little thumper inside of her, and dying to find out if it was a boy or a girl. But they wanted to wait to find out. Old-school.

Six months after the wedding, Charlie had asked Tom if he could come live with them at the New House. The Kelloggs put up a little resistance at first (what would their friends think?), but it was only a token. Everyone, including Charlie, knew that Janice and Walter really didn’t want the responsibility of raising him the rest of the way.

Tom did. So did Honor.

Mitchell DeLuca was more problematic, hanging up when Tom had called him, putting a heavy guilt trip on Charlie via text. Tom’s plan had been to drive to Philly and beat the snot out of him, but Honor invited Mitchell to the New House for dinner instead. Made Goggy’s ham and salt potatoes and Mrs. Johnson’s pineapple upside-down cake, and wrung a promise out of Tom that he’d stay cool and let her handle things. She told Mitchell simply that, while no one could ever take his place in Charlie’s life, she and Tom both loved Charlie, could give him stability and an extended family, and that Mitchell was welcome to visit or have Charlie visit any time he liked. Then she stared him down, waiting until he said yes.

Which he did. She was good at that sort of thing.

And when Mitchell left, Tom held her tight and said that he loved her more than he knew it was possible to love anyone, and thank God they were married, because he’d be lost without her.

So it was that five years almost to the day after his mother met Tom Barlow, Charlie came to live in the New House. He was quiet and horribly sloppy, his grades were mediocre, his taste in music hadn’t improved. And clearly, he loved Tom. And her, even if he never said the actual words.

And now, a baby. She couldn’t wait to see her child’s face. Couldn’t wait to see Tom’s when he held their little one for the first time, couldn’t wait to see Charlie as a big brother.

“They’re starting,” Tom said, sitting down next to her. She took his hand, which was damp with sweat.

“He’ll be great,” she said.

Tom gave her a rueful smile, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I might be having a heart attack,” he said.