His relief was so intense he felt dizzy, but he gradually steadied as she murmured her own love back to him. Then she got up from the couch, crossed to the door, and clicked the lock. As she turned back to face him, her fingers began opening the buttons on her pajamas.

He rose to his feet. A moment later his suit coat hit the floor.

Her pajama top fell open as she came toward him. She looped her arms around his neck, kissed him, the sweetest kiss of his life, full of passion and promise and the love he’d been looking for since he was born. But when their lips finally parted, she looked troubled again. “There’s more.”

“I sure as hell hope so,” he murmured, caressing the small of her back, just under her pajama top.

“No, not that.” She rested her hands on his shirtfront. “Once I stopped being furious with you long enough to realize that you really did love me, I had to figure out a way to get your attention.”

He understood. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I know you’re not pregnant.”

But that didn’t seem to satisfy her. “I came up with a plan. Temple and Max agreed to help me kidnap you, and—”

“Kidnap me?”

She looked suddenly smug. “We could have done it, too.”

When hell froze over. “If you say so.”

“The point is”—she tugged on one of his shirt buttons—“about me being pregnant …”

“I intend to take care of that real soon, but please don’t lie to me again.”

She opened one of his buttons and then another. “The thing is … I really wasn’t feeling well, so I started counting, and then I went to the doctor, and then …”

He stared at her.

Her mouth dissolved in a soft smile. She lifted her arms and cradled his face in her hands. “It’s true.”

Epilogue

LUCY RESTED HER HEAD AGAINST Ted Beaudine’s broad shoulder and gave a contented sigh. “Who’d have imagined after all we went through that we’d end up together like this?”

“Life works in mysterious ways,” he said.

It was late May, the three-year anniversary of their almost wedding, although that wasn’t why they’d all gathered at the lake house, which gleamed with a fresh coat of bright white paint and sparkling navy shutters. Instead they were celebrating Memorial Day weekend and the beginning of another summer.

Toby and two of his teenage friends dashed after Frisbees, with Martin loping at their heels. One of Bree’s nephews chatted awkwardly with Lucy’s youngest sister, while Tracy and Andre looked on in amusement. Lucy gazed at Ted’s clean-shaven jawline. “No offense, but I’m so glad I’m not married to you.”

“None taken,” he replied cheerfully.