After Hours with Her Ex

by Maureen Child

She swayed a little and Sam took that as hope and moved another step closer. “If I have to spend the next ten years romancing you to get you to believe me, then that’s what I’ll do,” he vowed. “I’ll bring you flowers every day, dinner every night. I’ll kiss you, touch you, make promises to you and eventually, you’ll believe in me again.”

  “Will I?”

  “Yeah,” he said softly, a smile curving his mouth. “Because you love me, Lacy. As much as I love you.”

  She took a fast, shallow breath and held it for a long moment.

  Sam looked at her standing there, her long hair loose and soft, her features tight, unsure, her eyes damp with tears, and his heart swelled until he thought it might burst from his chest.

  “Lacy, I hurt you. I know that and if I could change the past I would. But all I can do is promise you tomorrow and all the tomorrows afterward.” Breathing ragged, he took another step toward her. “You know, last night, after we talked, after I told you everything, I realized something I never had before.”

  “What?”

  One word only, but he took that as a good sign, too.

  “It wasn’t just losing Jack that drove me from here—though that was devastating. I was scared. See, I loved you so much more than my own twin, the thought of losing you was unimaginable.”

  “Sam...”

  “No,” he said quickly, “just hear me out. I couldn’t stand the thought of maybe losing you, as well. Seems stupid now, to leave you because I was afraid of losing you.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed wryly. “It does.”

  “But leaving didn’t stop the fear,” he told her. “I still thought about you. Worried about you. Loved you. Staying with you is the only thing that can stop that fear. I know that now. I want to be with you. Dream with you, for however long we live.” He took a long breath, let it out and said, “I want to risk the pain to have the love.”

  Lacy’s heart was galloping in her chest. Her mind was reeling. She looked up into his eyes and knew that he was right. About everything. At the start of their marriage, she had been waiting for Sam to let her down. She’d kept her guard up, prepared to be hurt. As much as she’d loved Sam, she’d never really gone all in. She’d held a part of herself back. Always cautious.

  She had forgotten that her father had always been there for her. In her pain over the loss of her mother, she’d refused to see that love doesn’t always leave. Sometimes it stayed. And it was something to count on. To trust in. That was the love she wanted to believe in. The kind that never left. The kind that lasted forever.

  Yes, she thought, looking up at him, Sam had made mistakes, but so had she. If she had been stronger in her own right, more self-confident, she might have forced him to talk to her in those days after Jack’s death. They might have worked this out together. But she’d been half expecting him to leave, so when he did, she’d let it happen instead of fighting for what she wanted.

  Now she was willing to fight.

  He was watching her through those beautiful green eyes of his and she knew that the next step was hers to take. It always had been. She had to forgive. Had to believe. And looking into his eyes, she knew she did.

  Love wasn’t perfect. No doubt in the future they’d both make mistakes. But they would both stay. Together.

  “You’re right,” she said, and watched as some of the tension drained out of him. “About a lot of things. But mostly,” she said, “you’re right that risking the pain is the only way to have the joy I feel when I’m with you.”

  “Will you risk it?” he asked, gaze never leaving hers. “Will you marry me again, Lacy? Will you trust me to be there for you and to always love you? Will you have my children and build a family with me?”

  There it was, she thought. Everything she wanted, shiny and bright and laid at her feet. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

  She held her hand out for his, and when his fingers closed around hers, she felt the warmth of him slide down inside and ease away the cold. “Yes, Sam. I’ll marry you. I’ll believe in you. And I’ll love you all my life.”

  He gave a tug and she flew into his arms. As he held her, he whispered, “Thank God. I love you, Lacy. Now, always, forever, I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Sam. I always have. Always will.” She nestled her head on his chest and listened to the thundering beat of his heart.

  His arms encircling her, he asked softly, “What do you say we start making babies right away?”

  A slow, satisfied smile crossed her face as she leaned back to look up at him. “You can cross that one off your to-do list, Sam.”

  “What do you—” Understanding dawned and his eyes widened even as his jaw dropped. “You mean...are you...already?”

  She nodded, waiting for the pleasure to ease past the shock. It didn’t take long. His grin spread across his face and lit his eyes with the kind of joy she had once dreamed of seeing. Reality was so much better.

  “We’re going to have a great life,” he promised her as one hand dropped to tenderly cup her flat belly.

  She laid her hand over his and said, “We’ve already started.”

  Then he kissed her and Lacy’s world opened up into a bright, beautiful place.

  Epilogue

  Lacy had a private room in the maternity ward at McKay-Dee Hospital in Ogden. Outside, it was snowing, but inside, there was a celebration going on.

  Sam looked down at his wife, cuddling their newborn son, and felt everything in him surge with happiness. Contentment. The past few months had been full and busy and great. The restaurant opened in the fall and was already packed daily. The gift shop was a huge hit not only with the tourists, but also with the local artisans, and the lodge addition was nearly ready to take in guests.

  But best of all was the time spent with Lacy. Rediscovering just how good they were together. They were living at her cabin, though they’d added so many rooms to the place, it was barely recognizable now. There were four more bedrooms, a couple of baths and a country kitchen that Lacy rarely wanted to leave. They had plans to fill that cabin with kids and laughter, and they’d gotten their start today.

  “You were amazing,” he told her, bending down to kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose and then her lips.

  Lacy smiled up at him. “Our son is amazing. Just look at him, Sam. Isn’t he beautiful?”

  “Just like his mom,” Sam said, trailing the tip of one finger along his son’s cheek. He never would have believed how deeply, how completely, you could love a person not even an hour old. He was a father. And a very lucky man.

  “He’s got your hair and my eyes. Isn’t that incredible? His own little person but a part of both of us.” She sighed happily and kissed her son’s forehead.

  “How are you feeling?” Worry colored his words, but he could be forgiven for that. Hadn’t he just watched her work and struggle for eight hours to give birth? A harrowing experience he was in no hurry to repeat. “Tired? Hungry?”

  She laughed a little at that, caught Sam’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “Okay, yeah, I could eat one of Maria’s steak sandwiches and swallow it whole. But I feel great. I have so much energy, I could get up and ski Bear Run.”

  The fastest, most dangerous slope at Snow Vista. Shaking his head, he said, “Yeah. You can forget about that for a while.”

  Lacy grinned and shrugged. “I suppose, but I’m really not tired.” Narrowing her gaze on him, she said, “But you’re exhausted. You should go home and rest.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without you.” Thankfully, the hospital provided cots for new fathers to sleep on in their wives’ rooms. Though he’d have stayed, even if he’d had to sleep in the chair by her bed. He kissed her again, kissed the top of his son’s head, and then straightened and threw a glance at the door. “The family’s waiting to come in.
You ready to face them?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He walked over, waved in the crowd of Wyatts and moved to the head of Lacy’s bed as everyone crowded around. His parents were beaming, his father clutching an impossibly bright purple teddy bear, his mother carrying a vase of sunshine-yellow roses. His sister, Kristi, was there, holding her husband Tony’s hand. The two of them had finally married last May, and Kristi was already pregnant with their first child.

  “He’s gorgeous,” Connie Wyatt exclaimed.

  “Handsome boy,” Bob agreed.

  “What’s his name?” Kristi asked, looking from Lacy to Sam.

  He looked down at his beautiful wife and smiled when she said, “You tell them, Sam.”

  He dropped one hand to Lacy’s shoulder, linking them, making them the unit they’d become. Sam looked at his family and said, “His name is Jackson William Wyatt. Named for Jack and for Lacy’s dad.”

  Sam watched his mother’s eyes well with tears and she didn’t try to stop them as they spilled along her cheeks even as she gave them both a proud smile. “Jack would be pleased. We are, aren’t we, honey?”

  Bob Wyatt dropped one arm around his wife and pulled her in tight. “We are. It’s a good thing you’ve done, you two.”

  Sam watched the family talk in excited whispers and half shouts. He saw Lacy hand baby Jack over to his mother and watched as she turned to Sam’s father and the two of them cuddled and cooed at their first grandchild.

  Life was good. Couldn’t be better. All that was missing, he thought with a lingering touch of sorrow, was his brother. He wished that Jack could know somehow that they had survived his loss. Found happiness, in spite of missing him.

  A flicker of movement caught Sam’s eye and he turned his head, shooting a look at the corner of the room, where the watery winter sun painted a pillar of golden light.

  Sam’s breath caught.

  Jack was there, in the light, a part of it. Heart thudding in his chest, Sam could only stare at his twin in disbelief. The buzz of conversation around him softened and drifted away as he and his twin stared at each other from across the room, across the chasm between life and death.

  Jack nodded, as if he understood just what Sam was feeling. Then he gave his twin a slow, wide smile, just as he used to. And in moments, as Sam watched, Jack drifted away with the last of the light until the corner of the room was empty and dark again.

  “Sam?” Lacy called his name, and still bemused by what he’d seen, he turned to her, a half smile curving his mouth. “Are you okay?”

  He glanced back at the corner of the room. Had it happened? Or was it wishful thinking? Did it matter? Jack was a part of them, always would be. Maybe he’d just found a way to let Sam know that he was okay, too.

  Turning back to Lacy, Sam let go of the last of his pain and welcomed the joy he was being offered.

  “I’m more than okay,” he assured her. “Everything’s perfect.”

  Then he turned his back on the past and stepped into the future with his wife and son.

  * * * * *

  If you loved this story from USA TODAY bestselling author Maureen Child, pick up her KINGS OF CALIFORNIA series:

  Money and power can get the King men anything...but love.

  BARGAINING FOR KING’S BABY

  MARRYING FOR KING’S MILLIONS

  FALLING FOR KING’S FORTUNE

  CONQUERING KING’S HEART

  CLAIMING KING’S BABY

  WEDDING AT KING’S CONVENIENCE

  THE LAST LONE WOLF

  CINDERELLA & THE CEO

  KING’S MILLION-DOLLAR SECRET

  READY FOR KING’S SEDUCTION

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  TO KISS A KING

  THE KING NEXT DOOR

  HER RETURN TO KING’S BED

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from PREGNANT BY THE SHEIKH by Olivia Gates.

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  One

  Jenan Aal Ghamdi watched the man she was getting engaged to flit among throngs of congratulators—and almost barfed. Again.

  It never failed. Every time she looked at him, hell, every time she thought of him, nausea overpowered her. It was a testament to her self-control that she hadn’t thrown up all over him yet.

  The one thing stopping her from giving in to the compulsion was the stronger aversion to rejoining that tragic farce of an engagement celebration. It had taken her over an hour to escape the hordes of prying—and pitying—guests and take refuge at the far end of the massive ballroom. She’d managed to slink away unnoticed only because she’d refused to wear the getup her “fiancé” had sent her. He’d wanted to flaunt his newly massive wealth and drape his “acquisition” in an oppressively ornate costume complete with scaffolding. With the ton of clashing jewelry he’d provided, she would have glittered with the power of ten disco balls. As it was, in her most obscure and suitably mournful matte black evening gown, she now blended into the darkness of the ballroom’s periphery. It was a minuscule victory, but with her expectations reduced to nil, anything counted now.

  Retreating farther away from everyone’s line of sight, she started breathing normally again. And a surreal sense of detachment descended on her yet again. It was as if none of this was really happening to her but to someone else. As if this was some ridiculous dream she was confident would fade into nothingness the moment she woke up.

  The artificial serenity lasted only moments before the illusion splintered and reality crashed over her again, with another wave of queasiness.

  She was really getting engaged to Hassan Aal Ghaanem!

  The man who happened to be the king of Saraya, who held Zafrana, his neighboring desert kingdom and her homeland, hostage.

  No, she wasn’t getting engaged to the man, she was being bartered to him. Sold. Tonight felt like the beginning of the end of her life as she knew it. The end of her life, period. Whatever came after marrying him wouldn’t be considered life. Not in her book.

  But though this fate was inescapable, she’d still refused to have this reception in Saraya, or even in Zafrana. It had been another empty triumph when he’d relented and agreed to hold it here, in her New York City stomping grounds.

  The city had been her home for the past twelve years. It would stop being so once she started serving her life sentence as Hassan’s wife. But she’d refused to go back to that region to be buried there for the rest of her life a second before she absolutely had to. She’d fled, determined to never return, except for fleeting visits, which had been few and very brief.

  But she’d been regretting her insistence since the moment she’d seen that man’s over-the-top arrangements. If there was anything more abhorrent to her than Hassan himself right now, it was being the center of attention in such an extravagant, overexposed event.

  If this party had been held in their homelands, it wouldn’t have gotten any coverage, what with the privacy measures imposed by the ruling cla
ss. But in the heart of New York City and in such a venue with all those high-profile attendees, this engagement party would be all over the worldwide media. Which taught her not to struggle while sinking in quicksand. Her attempt to assert herself had only made her sink deeper in this mess.

  But teaching her a lesson about defying him hadn’t been Hassan’s objective in arranging this spectacle. The man considered nothing but himself. And as the king of a recently prosperous kingdom—now that King Mohab Aal Ghaanem of Jareer was giving Saraya 30 percent of the new kingdom’s massive oil wealth—Hassan Aal Ghaanem had been on a splurging spree after decades of being held back by his kingdom’s limited finances.

  So here they were, in the Terrace Room at The Plaza, where many a legendary celebrity had held prominent events. After all, Hassan considered himself on par with those people.

  Any other time, she would have appreciated the almost five-thousand-square-foot ballroom that had been restored to its early 1900s grandeur. When she’d been here before, the painted ceilings, cathedral-like arches and elaborate pillars leading to its wraparound gallery had transported her to the Renaissance, while the original crystal chandeliers, wall paneling and carpeting had added a golden age refinement to the classical setting. Being here now, for this horrendous occasion, it felt like the setting of her life’s worst nightmare. It literally was.

  Tearing her gaze away from the five hundred guests that filled the ballroom to capacity, her eyes fell to her bare hands. She’d refused to accept the priceless pieces from Saraya’s royal jewelry to be her shabkah—what literally meant “binding.” She was damned if she’d wear his shackles for all to see...

  “Are you sure about this, Jen?”

  The soft voice, barely audible above the Sarayan celebratory songs blaring over the sound system, sent a spasm through her chest with its melancholy. Zeena, her baby half sister. If anyone was feeling as bad as she was about this whole thing, it was her.

  She turned to her, her lips crooking in an attempt at lightness. “Oh, I am, Zee. I’m sure there’s no other way out of the mess Father and Zafrana are in but for me to marry that old goat.”