“Someday soon, I’m going to ask you a really important question, Whitney, and I want you to say yes.”

Fourteen

Whitney

He’s going to ask me to marry him.

As I sit at the ridiculously long table in the dining room of the Riscoff estate, it takes the remaining reserve of my strength after this marathon of a day to keep my expression calm. Inside, I’m grappling with everything that has happened. Could I have misunderstood him?

Shivers ripple across my skin, and I don’t know what to think. If Lincoln meant what I thought he meant . . . Everyone who told me he’d never want to marry me was wrong.

I reach for my water glass, needing to do something with my hands as we wait for Commodore to position himself at the head of the table and finally speak. His fresh shirt is snowy white beneath the navy-blue sling, and his eyes are clear despite the pain he must be in, since Lincoln told me he refused drugs other than antibiotics.

“I asked you all to have dinner with me this evening because I want to make it very clear what matters to me at this phase of my life—especially after the circus earlier—and that’s family.”

Commodore’s serious gaze moves from McKinley and Harrison on one side of the table and to me and Lincoln on the other. His attention seems to linger even longer on me.

“She’s not family,” Harrison says, staring at me. “She’s a Gable—”

“When I want your opinion, boy, I’ll ask for it.”

Harrison shuts his mouth, and I’m certain Commodore just gave him another reason to hate me more than he already does.

“Lincoln has made it clear that Whitney belongs with him, and I suspect it’s only a matter of time before her status in this family is official.”

“Yes, sir,” Lincoln says. “You’re correct.”

My cheeks heat as everyone looks to me. This is really happening. I didn’t misunderstand anything about what Lincoln said.

If you had asked me two months ago if I’d ever get married again, my answer would have been hell no, absolutely not. No way. No how. But Lincoln has always been the one. I gave him up once, and I’ve been lying to myself if I thought that I’d ever be able to do it again.

“Regardless of her last name, she’s shown herself to be strong, resilient, loyal, and intelligent. Maybe with this union, the feud between our families will finally be put to rest—before any more losses are suffered on either side.”

Harrison scoffs, but Lincoln raises his glass.

“I can drink to that.”

Commodore nods and we all raise our glasses high, except Harrison, whose whiskey tumbler hovers near his lips.

“To the next generation. May they not be touched by the tragedy we’ve suffered.”

We all toast to Commodore’s words, and I tip back the wine in my glass.

“But what if there’s already a next generation? I thought we decided that Ricky Rango already has a kid running around out there, or there’s no way his crazy mom would worry about a paternity test after all this time.”