by Tess Summers
“Mason got me these,” she said wistfully as she brushed the petals in a pile with her hand. “You would have loved him. I think he would have loved you, too. But I don’t really know.” Her laugh was filled more with sorrow than joy. “I guess I’ll never know.”
She continued cleaning up, talking to the dog. “But Ric seems like a nice guy, right?”
Mason almost closed down the app and drove away right then. The cop was a good guy, from what little he could find out about him. Maybe she was better off with him.
Then she slumped down on her butt with her back against the wall and began to sob softly into the dishtowel she’d pulled from the oven handle. Poor Walter looked on, whining and trying to nuzzle his way under her leg.
“I just miss him so much,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “It’s not fair. Why did he have to leave me? He was the one, ya know?”
She glanced up at the camera and paused, doing a double-take before standing up and slowly walking toward the camera to inspect it closer. She’d obviously noticed it had been adjusted.
“Mason Edward Hughes, I swear to god, if you’re alive and watching me right now without letting me know you’re all right—”
He had already been on his way to her door the minute he saw her on the floor crying. It was serendipity that she uttered her warning just as he quietly opened the door leading from the garage. He was going to have to talk to her about closing the garage door behind her so not just anybody could walk in. Ric should have warned her about that—further confirmation that Mason was the better man for her.
Chapter Forty-One
Reagan
She let out a little gasp, startled at the sight of seeing someone in her kitchen when she wasn’t expecting it, then blinked hard and shook her head, as if she were imagining things.
Mason was standing in her kitchen. He looked gaunt—at least twenty-five pounds lighter—and pale, like he hadn’t seen the sun in months, but there was no doubt it was him.
Unless it was a ghost.
Walter started barking at the perceived intruder, and she reached down to grab his collar.
“It’s okay, boy.”
Turning her attention to the man standing five feet in front of her, she didn’t know what to say. Why was he here after all this time?
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.
He held his hands up, like he was reassuring he wasn’t a threat, and walked slowly toward her.
“There were times I thought so, too. Then there were times I just wished it. It was touch and go there for a while.”
“What happened? Where have you been?” Her tone was more accusatory than she’d intended.
“Syria. I was in an explosion.”
Tears filled her eyes. “And you were hurt.”
He nodded, less than a foot in front of her now.
“Pretty badly. I would have died if some good Samaritans hadn’t found me and hid me while nursing me back to health.”
“How long have you been back?”
“In the States?” He looked at the nonexistent watch on his wrist. “About thirty-six hours.”
A sob escaped her lips. “And you came back to me.”
Slowly, like she might bolt if he moved too quickly—either that or he might get bitten by her new dog—he touched her cheek with the back of his hand.
“I came back to you.”
At that, she launched herself on him, wrapping her arms around his neck, legs around his waist, and burying her face in the crook of his shoulder while she cried softly. His hands came under her ass to support her and Waltert began to bark excitedly.
“Walter! Quiet!” his deep voice commanded, and the dog immediately complied, looking almost dumbfounded that this man knew his name.
“How long are you here?” she asked, sniffling.
She didn’t want to assume anything or get her hopes up.
He rocked her gently, shifting her weight in his hands.
“For as long as you’ll have me, sweetheart.”
“Forever work for you?”
“Forever works perfectly,” he said with a smile.
“I guess you’ll probably want to marry me for my money, huh?” she teased. “I’ve been told I’m quite wealthy now.”
“Sassy pants, I would love to marry you—but not for the money. We can have a prenup that gives you everything. I just want to grow old waking up next to you every morning and going to sleep next every night with you in my arms.”
She unwrapped her legs and dropped to the ground, but kept her arms around his neck.
“It’s your money—I never wanted it in the first place. And I was just teasing—you don’t have to marry me to get it back.”
Mason shook his head. “No, baby. I don’t want to waste another minute to start our life together. Hell, I’d fly to Vegas tonight and marry you if I thought you’d go.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Exactly whom would I be marrying?”
“Edward Marcus O’Connor.”
She studied his face, her fingers threading through his hair almost subconsciously as she did. Finally, she nodded. “It suits you. You look like an Edward.”
He smirked. “Oh yeah? How many have you known?”
She looked toward the ceiling. “Well, let’s see, there’s Edward Norton, and Prince Edward. Edward Burns. Oh, and don’t forget, Edward Lewis.”
He tilted his head. “I’m not familiar.”
“He was Richard Gere’s character in Pretty Woman. Can I call ya Eddie?” she teased, quoting Julia Roberts from the movie.
Mason didn’t miss a beat when he replied with Richard Gere’s line, “Not if you expect me to answer.”
Reagan didn’t know how, but she might have just fallen more in love with him.
“So, is that a yes on marrying me?” he asked, his tone hopeful.
“Are you really asking? Like, for real?”
He dramatically dropped to one knee—which would have been uber-romantic if Walter hadn’t taken that opportunity to plaster his face with dog kisses.
She erupted in a fit of giggles and dropped down next to him to help fend off the slobbering dog, holding onto his collar.
Her smile faded when she looked into his eyes. His expression was sober.
“Will you marry me, Reagan Elizabeth Jones?”
Were they crazy? They’d only spent the equivalent of a month together. But he had once told her he just knew—meeting her had been like combustion. She felt the same way about him.
Tears began to fall before she even got the words out. Nodding her head, she exclaimed, “Yes, I will marry you, Edward Marcus O’Connor.”
He pulled her into an embrace, his mouth capturing hers for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Walter tried to get in on the action and Mason/Edward pulled her to her feet.
“Do you have bones in that bag?” he asked hopefully.
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m going to need to keep him busy for at least an hour and a half before he can come in the bedroom with us.”
“Oh,” she replied, her toes curling in her shoes. “Let me find them.”
“Hurry, sweetheart,” he urged. “I need to feel you under me again.”
She needed that, too.
Chapter Forty-Two
Mason/Edward
He woke when her alarm started going off after sleeping like the dead. It was the first time in months he’d been completely at ease and able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. Making love to her until they were exhausted probably also helped.
Today was the first day of his new chapter.
Reagan shut the alarm off but didn’t get out of bed; instead she turned over and wrapped her arms around him.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she murmured with her head on his chest.
“Believe it. I’m not going anywhere again.”
“Does that mean you don’t have to hide?”
“That’s exactly what it means.”
“How am I going to explain you?” she asked with a laugh.
“We’ll use the original story we were going to go with. We met online in a hockey chat room last year. We’d been talking the entire time, growing closer, and when we met in person for the first time last summer on the cruise you went on with your mom, we knew we were in love. We’d been doing a long-distance relationship since then but finally, I couldn’t be apart from you for another minute and moved here to be with you.”
“And why didn’t I tell anyone about us?”
He shrugged with a mischievous grin. “You were worried I was too good to be true?”
Her expression was somber. “I still worry about that.”
Edward was going to have to remedy that right away. Trip to the jewelry store was going to the top of the list of his things to do today. Calling his brother was number two, making flight reservations to see his parents was number three.
“I’m not too good to be true, sweetheart.”
Reagan sighed and snuggled closer to him. “I think everyone will believe our story, except my friend, Ric. He was one of the Fargo officers who came here looking for you that day. I actually went to lunch with him yesterday, and then we went to the shelter together last night and each adopted a kennelmate.”
And he’s interested in me. She didn’t say it, but he knew that was the case, and so did she. Yesterday, Mason had been jealous, now he just felt bad for the man; Ric seemed like a good guy. He’d left here yesterday thinking he was making inroads with Reagan, only to not have a chance today.
“Maybe you should meet him for coffee and let him down easy.”
“I probably should,” she agreed.
Just then Walter started to whine.
“You go get ready, I’ll take him out.”
As he sat shivering his ass off in his pajama pants and sweatshirt while holding the dog’s leash, he decided number four on his list was building a fence off her backdoor.
He had a lot of things to do today.
****
Reagan
She walked into the coffee shop where Ric was already waiting and waved before going to the counter to place her order. He stood and kissed her cheek when she approached the table by the window where he was sitting.
“Did you get Walter to the vet okay this morning?”
Mason/Edward had taken care of that for her, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up.
“I’ll pick him up this afternoon,” was her reply.
“I was happily surprised you wanted to meet this morning,” he said with a smile.
She gave a pacifying smile and his face fell, but he remained silent.
“I haven’t been completely honest about why I’m not ready to date,” she began. “The truth is, I’m seeing someone. It was mainly long distance until last night.”
“What happened last night?”
“Well, um, he showed up at my door.”
Ric sat up straighter as he slipped into cop mode and began to pepper her with questions about how much she knew about her long-distance boyfriend, how did they meet, and had she run a background check.
Finally, she gripped his hand, which was clenched into a fist on top of the table.
“My sister introduced us. He used to work with her.”
She raised her eyebrow to drive her point home without having to utter the words.
His mouth opened when he figured out what she was saying.
“I see. And now?”
“He’s retired. I hope I can count on you to keep this between us and no one else. For his safety as well as mine.”
“So, the guy doing the physical therapy few months ago—”
“Wasn’t a fugitive from the law,” she finished for him.
Ric nodded his head thoughtfully as he stared at the ground, then looked up and gave her a small smile.
“Your secret is safe with me. You have my word. And if either of you ever need anything, you can count on me. I mean that.”
She believed him.
Chapter Forty-Three
Mason/Edward
They woke up to a foot of overnight snow on Christmas Eve morning, and Mason had to use the snow blower to create a path for Walter to have a place to do his business, but for all intents and purposes, they were snowed in. It sounded ideal.
“How does Naked Christmas Eve sound?” he asked, bringing his arms around her middle while she poured him a cup of coffee.
She shook her head with a smile.
“No. We have to finish making cookies, and I still have your presents I need to wrap, plus I guarantee there will be carolers tonight.”
“What if I don’t clear the front walk?” he asked hopefully.
“Babe, don’t underestimate Fargoans willingness to wade through knee-high snow to sing Christmas songs to their neighbors on Christmas Eve.”
He sighed. “Okay, but we’re at least having naked Christmas morning.”
“We can be naked all day tomorrow,” she promised, patting his cheek.
“No, just the morning. I’m making Christmas dinner tomorrow, remember?”
Besides, he was planning on making love to her all night tonight by the light of the Christmas tree after he proposed to her. He’d even stocked up on Busy Bones to keep Walter occupied.
“Oh yes! I hope you’re not planning on going to a lot of trouble since it’s just going to be the two of us.”
“Nothing too elaborate,” he assured her. “But it’s still going to be a beautiful meal. Maybe next year, we can be with one or both of our families and go all out. Speaking of which… I bought our tickets to Boston for next week—is Ric going to be able to take Walter while we’re gone?”
“He said no problem.”
Mason was going to show up on his parents’ doorstep and let them know he was alive—and with a fiancée in tow. He’d already called Marcus, who hadn’t seemed very surprised to hear from him, leaving Mason to wonder aloud if Jacob had called him.
“Nah, I just saw some withdrawals on your accounts and sort of figured it out, based on where you’d made the withdrawals and for how much.”
“Oh. Well, I’m going to see mom and dad the week after Christmas if you can make it. I’m going to bring Reagan with me. I’d like to officially meet Susana.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” his brother replied noncommittally, quickly changing the subject. “What are you going by these days?”
“Reagan still calls me Mason, probably more out of habit than anything, but when we’re out in public or if I’m doing any business, it’s Edward.”
“Business?”
“I’m going to open a restaurant,” Mason confided.
“I think that sounds like a terrific idea. It’s good to have my big brother back.”
“It’s good to be back.”
****
Reagan
They were nestled under a blanket on the living room rug next to the fire in the fireplace, drinking wine while leaning on throw pillows and staring at the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree.
Walter was on his bed, gnawing away at a bone Mason had given him.
Mason—er, Edward moved to sit up straighter, her head now resting in his lap as he entwined their fingers. Reagan suspected his injuries made it harder for him to stay still for very long. While his face remained almost flawless, his back and chest bore the scars of the explosion that day in Syria, on top of his previous scars and bullet wounds. He looked like the walking wounded when he got out of the shower in the morning, and it made her heart ache for everything he’d been through.
“Were you serious about marrying me, sassy pants?” he asked quietly.
“Of course,” Reagan whispered, squeezing his fingers in hers. She was about to bring his hand to her lips when she realized there was a diamond shimmering on her left ring finger and gasped.
“How did you do that?”
“Once a spy…” h
e said with a smirk as he cloaked her body with his.
“Our poor kids aren’t going to be able to get away with anything,” she giggled.
“Speaking of… when are we going to have one? Not that I’m opposed to just practicing until you say the word, but what do you think?”
“Let’s get back from getting married in Boston next week, then I’ll go see my doctor about having the implant removed.”
His eyes got big. “So there’s a chance we could have a baby by next Christmas?” Then he realized what she’d said and shook his head. “Wait, did you say you wanted to get married in Boston next week?”
“Well, assuming your family likes me, I thought I could talk Bella and Dante into bringing Mama for New Year’s… it seemed like as good a time as any.”
“But Boston, sweetheart? It’s cold there, too.”
“I’ll wear a pretty white fake-fur wrap around my dress.”
He stared at her with a soft smile, then bent his head within inches of hers.
“I’m gonna wife you so hard,” he warned just before capturing her lips with his.
She couldn’t wait.
Epilogue
Edward/Mason
He had his restaurant opened by September the following year, and it didn’t take long for him to become an honorary Fargoan—probably thanks to his native wife, who was the face of the company. That allowed him to stay out of the limelight. The community embraced Sassy’s Bar and Grill from the first hour it opened, making it an instant hit. They loved seeing one of their own succeed.
Reagan’s pregnant belly in all the newspaper and magazine articles more than likely helped. It had just popped out a week before their Grand Opening, and Fargoans were just so damn nice, they were rooting for her—and by default, him—from day one. Brianna Kennedy O’Connor arrived December fifteenth, and when she was two and half years old, James Mason O’Connor joined his sister in the world. Edward and Reagan stopped procreating after their son was born—but not practicing.
Standing in the kitchen doorway watching her with the kids one Saturday morning, he wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. But, as Jacob had pointed out one summer day when Edward was wearing a shirt poolside to hide his scars, it wasn’t like he hadn’t paid his dues. “You just needed to find your way to where you belonged,” the former fixer had told him. At the end of the day, all roads led back to Reagan. Be it in Fargo, San Diego, Key West, Boston… he didn’t care, as long as she was by his side.
