“Why don’t I get those eggs going while you shower?” He stood and held out his hand. “I’m starving.”

She placed her fingers in his, and he drew her to her feet—but he didn’t let go as she turned toward the hall.

Angling back, she raised her eyebrows. “I thought you were hungry?”

“I am—but I want an appetizer first.” He leaned close to claim another kiss.

She didn’t protest.

And as the world once more faded away . . . as Cate melted into his embrace . . . she gave thanks.

For despite all the close calls they’d had . . . despite almost losing each other forever . . . God had granted them tomorrow.

And if they chose, they could spend it together.

Cate laid her hands against the familiar broad chest where she’d found such comfort—and love—in the past. Felt the steady, rapid beat of Zeke’s heart beneath her fingertips.

A heart he was offering to her.

She wouldn’t make a rash or hasty decision this go-round. She was older now, and wiser. Also more cautious.

But if she were a betting woman, she’d wager far more money than Zeke was going to leave on the table at Tony’s tonight that by next summer or fall, together would be the perfect description for all their tomorrows.

Epilogue

I’D SAY THIS IS THE PICTURE of wedded bliss.” Cate held out her cell to show him the photo Eve had texted her.

Zeke obliged by leaning closer . . . but looking at someone else’s honeymoon photos couldn’t hold his interest after daydreams about going on his own honeymoon had been dominating his thoughts for days.

Assuming the lady said yes when he popped the question, of course.

The very next item on his agenda.

He examined the photo of Eve and Brent, who were sitting on the ground, their backs against a weathered stone wall, heads tipped toward each other for the selfie, the remnants of a picnic strewn around them. “Wedded bliss sums it up.”

“I’d venture to say they’re loving Tuscany.” Cate scanned the message, then set her phone aside.

“Romantic honeymoon destination.”

“I suppose—although I’d be happy camping right here.” She swept a hand around the scene spread before them from their own picnic spot in Cuivre River State Park, quiet on this warm midweek May day. “The location is less important than the companion.”

“I agree . . . but a honeymoon does seem worthy of a memorable destination.”

“That was Eve and Brent’s take too. I must admit, after drooling over all the photos she’s sent, Italy fits the bill.” She leaned back on her palms, lifting her face to the blue sky. “It was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Very.”

“Eve made a gorgeous bride.”

“True—but the maid of honor stole the show.”

Cate flashed him a smile. “You’re prejudiced.”

“Guilty as charged.”