“Don’t be.” His expression was serious and he squeezed my hands. “I’ll be there every step of the way, and I’ll help you talk to the kids if you want. You have nothing to be afraid of. My God, Sylvia.” He took me in his arms again, more gently this time. “I never thought I’d have this moment. Thank you.”

At the crack in his voice, my tears were back. I put my arms around his waist and took comfort in his warm, familiar scent, the solidity of his chest against my cheek, even the hole in his shirt. This was real love.

He dropped to his knee and looked up. “Marry me, Sylvia. I would have asked you anyway, but I was trying to be patient for once. Clearly, the universe does not want us to take our time. I’m sorry I don’t have a ring, but what I do have is a promise—I will love you forever. I will be a good father to this baby. And I will never try to take the place of Whitney and Keaton’s dad, but I will be there for them, no matter what.”

I nodded through my tears.

“Is that yes?”

“Yes,” I said, my heart clanging against my ribs. “Yes.”

He rose and scooped me up again, gently rocking me from side to side. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know it.”

I laughed and sniffled. “I don’t mind at all.”

* * *

As it turned out, I had nothing to worry about where my kids were concerned. Both Whitney and Keaton were surprised but excited about the prospect of a little brother or sister. Henry and I told them together the following Saturday night. It was kind of a tradition now that we all hung out and watched a movie at the new house. Henry never stayed the night, although I was longing for the day when he could.

“Can I tell Millie?” Whitney wanted to know.

“Well, we were planning to tell everyone tomorrow night at Cloverleigh,” I said, linking hands with Henry at the table. “The entire family is going for Sunday dinner because it’s Grandma’s birthday. Can you wait until then?”

“I guess.” She looked glum for a second. Then she perked up. “Can the baby sleep in my room?”

Henry and I laughed. “You won’t want the baby in your room at first, trust me,” I told her. “But I will need plenty of help, don’t worry.”

Later, when I was saying goodnight to Whitney, she asked me if Henry and I would get married.

“We want to,” I said gently, sitting on the edge of her bed. “How do you feel about that?”

“I think you should.” Her tone was confident. “Would Henry live here?”