Worth More Than Money

by Lexy Timms

  “Of course,” I said. “It’s just over there.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Michelle said.

  “And I’ll be right here.”

  She got up and walked away and I sighed. What the hell was taking Maria so long? I couldn’t put this off any longer. Everything had to be set up, right?

  I pulled out my phone and groaned when I didn’t see a text message, but just as I went to call Maria, her name lit up my phone.

  “Finally,” I said, with a murmur.

  I opened the text message and smiled when I saw that one little word.

  Ready!

  “Is everything okay?”

  I slid my phone back into my pocket as I whipped my head up to take Michelle in.

  “Of course,” I said. “Ready to head home?”

  “Ready to head to bed,” she said with a giggle.

  “Well, if you stick with me, I’ve got one more thing for you before you head off to bed tonight.”

  “Gray, I really can’t go anywhere else. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful—”

  “You never could,” I said, as I stood from my seat. “Not in a million years. Don’t worry. The surprise is back at the house. Just stay with me a little while longer, okay?”

  “Why are you doing all this?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

  I traced my thumb over her lower lip, watching as her cheeks flushed.

  “Come with me,” I said. “I have something I want to ask you.”

  I led her to the car and we drove back home. But instead of walking her through the house, I walked us around the perimeter. I held her hand, our fingers laced together as her heels lightly clicked on the cobblestones that outlined paths around my property.

  Our property, if she said yes.

  The second I walked her out to the terrace in the backyard, I heard her gasp. A million twinkling lights raced along the edges of everything out there. The edge of the concrete foundation. The outline of the door. The table and the chairs set up with presents for our baby. There were pink bags and blue bags and a bouquet of flowers meant for her. Candles twinkled in the seats of the chairs, casting a beautiful hue in the areas the twinkling lights didn’t reach. The table and the terrace were full of baby gifts. Stuffed animals rested against the colorful bags while clothes and diapers and gift cards overflowed the colorful tissue of the presents.

  The sun slowly sank behind the hills, draping us in an illuminated darkness as I slipped my arm around Michelle.

  “What is all this?” she asked, breathlessly. “What have you done?”

  I looked down and saw the wonder in her eyes and knew I couldn’t wait a second longer.

  “Michelle Danforth, I’m in love with you.”

  Her eyes whipped up to mine as I turned her body in my arms.

  “I can’t live without you,” I said. “I don’t want to imagine my life without you. And I want to raise our child together. Here. In Napa Valley. I want the laughter of our child and the laughter of the woman I love to fill the halls of this home. I want my home to become ours, Michelle. And I don’t want to wait another second to ask you the one thing I’ve been dying to ask you since I found you in Williston.”

  Then, I slid down onto my knee and pulled the ring box out of my pocket. It had been burning a hole into my thigh the entire night. I popped it open and held it up to Michelle, watching as her hands cupped her mouth. Tears rushed her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, and I finally allowed myself to hope. To wish. To pray and to believe that the answer I wanted would come out of her mouth the second I asked.

  “Michelle, you will be a fabulous mother. But I want you as more than that. I want you as my wife. As my partner. As the only love my life with ever know. I’ve never loved another woman. Not even my own mother. And now that I’ve experienced that with you, I want no one else. I long for no one else other than you, Michelle. My love, will you marry me?”

  She let out the breath she was holding as her hands came down to cup mine.

  “I never expected this to happen, and I never thought you would ask. But I hoped with all my might that you would. Yes, Grayson MacDonald, I will marry you.”

  I couldn’t contain myself as I shot up from my knee and crashed my lips against hers. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in tightly, feeling the way she molded to me. The way she bowed when I dipped her. Our tongues collided and every single piece of my world fell into place. I saw visions of my future smash against the forefront of my mind as her lips swelled against mine. I steadied her on her feet before plucking the ring from its box, then I slid it onto her finger as she wiped at the tears of happiness coating her skin.

  Then, without another word spoken, I brought her in for another kiss.

  Epilogue

  Michelle

  One Year Later

  I pushed the dark hair back from my son’s face as I stood on the balcony with him. I gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, marveling at how much he looked like his father. With every passing day, he woke up with another one of Grayson’s features. A stern look or a furrowed brow. His nose grew stronger and even his little baby jawline seemed etched with the same ruggedness Gray had.

  There was no denying who this child belonged to, even if it still mattered.

  “There you two are,” Gray said.

  He came up and kissed me on the cheek before he peered over my shoulder.

  “How did Anton do today?” he asked.

  “A little fussy. He’s still really gassy. I think it must be something I’m eating. I’m worried he’s got a food intolerance,” I said.

  “Well, we cut out dairy and it’s been two weeks. Have we tried eggs?” he asked.

  “We haven’t cut out eggs, no. But I’m concerned enough that I think we should take him back to the doctor.”

  “Okay. Whatever Momma feels is better is what we’ll do. I know you’ve been struggling with the constant change in diet. Let me get on the phone with the doctor and I’ll get us an appointment for tomorrow, okay?”

  “Don’t be so hard on him this time,” I said, as I turned around. “I think you scared him a little the last time.”

  “All I wanted was for him to be on time. He was thirty minutes late to our appointment,” he said.

  “Be nice,” I said.

  “If you insist,” he said with a grin.

  I watched my husband pull out his cell phone and dial Anton’s pediatrician. The love he had for his son was astounding to me. I watched him go to war on more than one occasion with our pediatrician because he didn’t feel the examination had been enough. Or he didn’t feel that my concerns were fully being heard. Or he felt something else was going on with our son. My entire pregnancy, he had been petrified of being a terrible father. Of turning out like his father rather than being the father he wanted to be.

  And with each passing day, he affirmed again the reason I wanted so many children with him.

  When we figured out we were having a boy, the name was almost a no-brainer. For me, naming our son Anton was a way of carrying on the man’s legacy. A man that linked Gray and I together before we ever met. In many respects, I owed my entire relationship to Anton. Because without the connection to him, I never would’ve thought to go to his house that night. Instead of stumbling into bed practically naked with a strange man lying in it already, I would’ve packed up my stuff and slept on the street. Or possibly headed home prematurely.

  Gray and I never would have met had it not been for our relationships with Anton Volk.

  I carried on Anton’s legacy with our son, but Gray carried on his legacy in Stillsville as well. He ended up donating Anton’s house to the non-profit instead of selling it to them. They had turned it into a senior home that was now providing services to the city of Stillsville. Not only were they taking in the elderly, but they were taking homebound visits. Traveling to those in the city that needed care but couldn’t get to a doctor. They even linked up with Dr. Luke to more services at better prices for th
e community.

  But that wasn’t all Gray had done.

  Donating Anton’s property was the first of many transformations I’d seen in my husband. As I stood there with our son in my arms watching him go back and forth with the nurse at the front desk of our pediatrician, I thought about all that had changed. Gray had taken it upon himself to continue donating regularly to the charities that Anton had laid out in his will. Quarterly donations, to be exact. And he was in the throes of coming up with vintage wines that were linked specifically to those charities. Where a portion of the money paid for the bottle of wine was guaranteed to go to that charity.

  I told him it was a sound business move, and it was the first time I ever heard Gray say that it had nothing to do with business.

  That day I saw a change in him. A desire to become a better man. And I attributed it all to his therapy. Halfway through my pregnancy, the two of us had gotten into a huge fight. So huge, in fact, that it sent me to the hospital because the stress of the situation skyrocketed my blood pressure. It was in that moment as I laid there in that hospital bed that Gray promised to get help. He promised to seek out a therapist he could talk to in order to sort through his anger and trust issues.

  And it had turned him into a completely different person. Unlocking the person inside he’d never believed he could be.

  “All right,” Gray said. “I’ve got Anton an appointment tomorrow just before lunch. I figured we could go, get him checked out, make sure things are okay, then get something to eat in town.”

  “That sounds great,” I said, with a smile.

  Then I felt Anton stir in my arms.

  “Here, let me help with that,” he said.

  Anton squirmed around as Gray came up behind me. He helped slide my robe off and cupped my swollen breast, helping to guide my nipple between our son’s lips. He held me close, cradling his arm underneath mine to give more support to our son’s head.

  He rested his chin against my shoulder as I leaned my head against his.

  “Have you heard from Andy lately?” I asked.

  “Early this morning, actually. He called to let me know that the newest batch of wine is going to be a little behind schedule. It’s not quite up to temperature yet, so the flavor hasn’t started to mutate yet.”

  “Is something wrong with the system?” I asked.

  “I told him a technician would be out there this afternoon to check on everything, just to make sure. But this happens sometimes. And since we’ll be a little behind schedule, that means Andy will have some free time to take a class I enrolled him in.”

  “A class? What class?”

  “He’s expressed interest in becoming a sommelier. And this gives me a unique opportunity to groom one from scratch and teach someone specifically in the way I run things.”

  “You think it’s smart for someone like Andy to be around wine like that all the time?” I asked.

  He kissed me on the cheek before he helped me switch Anton to my other breast.

  “He’s come a long way in a year. He completed his rehab program and is going to regular meetings. He’s keeping up with his sponsor and he’s even a sponsor to someone else. He’s been working among the massive vats of wine for the past few months without one single issue, so I figured we could step him into it easily. Just one class that takes place over the course of a weekend. And if he doesn’t like it or can’t handle it, I can write it off as a business expense and he can go back to what he’s doing.”

  “It’s incredible, what you’ve done for him,” I said.

  “He deserves it. He worked hard to get sober and he’s committed to staying that way. I can relate. I’m committed to being a better father and husband. It’s why I’ve kept those therapy appointments.”

  “And I’m committed to you,” I said.

  “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

  I turned my lips to encompass his as the sun warmed our bodies. His arms wrapped tightly around me cradling mine, supporting our son as he drank from my body. His lips trailed down my neck, causing me to giggle as we stood there watching the sun sink beyond the horizon. Another year of harvesting and another year of vintages. And yet, so much had changed. Grayson was repairing his relationships in Stillsville, and I was repairing things with my family. Nick came out to visit often and I knew he would quickly become the cool, funny uncle our son would rely on when he got into his rebellious teenage years. I closed my eyes as Gray pressed a kiss against my neck, then let out a contented sigh as Anton unlatched from my bosom

  “Here, I’ll burp him,” Gray said.

  “Then I’ll go get his bath ready.”

  I handed Anton off to his father and walked back into our bedroom. But before I headed into the bathroom, I chanced a look back. The last of the sun shone upon the two men in my life, and the shadowed impression of Gray bouncing with his son against his shoulder was forever seared into my memory. His hand patted Anton’s back lightly as he sang to his son a tune I’d quickly come to memorize. I stood there, watching the father of my child and the love of my life break the cycle of abuse that had been bestowed upon him.

  Then, the soothing words of Gray’s lullaby filled our bedroom.

  “Son of mine, don’t you cry. Son of mine, dry those eyes. Lay your head on my heart. Son of mine, never to part. Son of mine, when you play, do not listen to what they say. I promise your eyes will sparkle and shine, and never hold a tear, son of mine.”

  And after I watched my husband dip his lips to the back of our son’s head, I made my way into the bathroom. I filled Anton’s little baby tub with warm water and a few soapy suds, listening as Gray sang that song to him over and over again. My life couldn’t have become any more perfect. My heart couldn’t have become any fuller.

  Everything had been worth it. Every tear, every argument, every heartbreak, and every doubt. Forever our story, until our days came to an end.

  THE END

  COMING SOON - For His Pleasure #1

  WORK. THAT’S ALL I do.

  After my best friend betrayed me, that’s all I can do.

  I’m trying to nail a massive contract.

  One that will put my company ahead of the rest.

  And of course, he’s a traditionalist.

  My assistant says I need a fiancée.

  Someone that makes me look good in a commitment.

  But I don’t date. And I don’t intend to start.

  So a fake fiancée it is.

  What I didn’t expect were her legs.

  What I didn’t expect was her poise.

  What I didn’t expect was her perfection.

  And now? I can’t keep my eyes off her.

  I have to stay focused, but her scent is alluring.

  I have to stay away, because her pull is too strong.

  I know she comes with bonuses. I know she’s bought and paid for.

  But my fake fiancée is the perfect woman for my life.

  Worth It Series

  Worth Billions

  Book 1

  Worth Every Cent

  Book 2

  Worth More Than Money

  Book 3

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