A light was on, shining dim from the living room to his left.

He walked that way and saw her there, on the flowered sofa, curled up in an afghan, head to the arm of the couch, asleep.

Waiting up for her man, she’d conked out.

Pregnant women, he’d learned (repeatedly) did that shit.

He moved to her and sat in the area open at the curve of her lap, a small area considering the size of her belly.

He had a hand lifted to pull her blonde hair away from her face even as her head turned and her big blue eyes opened.

Blinking, she focused on him.

“Hey,” she whispered. “It go okay?”

“Nothing sweeter,” he answered.

Her head slightly twitched as she lifted it up from the couch.

“Sorry?”

“Years, my two boys, my baby girl you got in you, countless hot fudge sundaes, all that you gave me, and there’s nothin’ sweeter.”

She was getting him, he knew it when he saw her face grow soft.

“Raiden.”

His name was hushed, reverent.

Fuck, but she loved him.

Nothing sweeter.

He bent to her, his mouth a breath away from hers, he murmured, “Nothin’ sweeter, honey, than the love you give to me.”

He watched from close as his wife’s eyes got wet.

“It went okay,” she said softly.

“Absolutely,” he replied.

He watched her shining pretty blue eyes smile.

Then he kissed her.

* * * * *

Deacon

An Hour and a Half Later

He wasn’t even to the steps of the porch before the front door opened and the dogs came bounding out.

He stopped and bent to his pups. Running his fingers through the soft fur of Boss Lady’s and Priest’s heads, he did it with his head tipped back, his eyes on his wife standing with her shoulder leaned against the jamb of the door, one arm out, holding the storm open. She had on one of his T-shirts, her dark hair was all over the place, her eyes tired, and she was so fucking beautiful, she looked ready for a photo shoot.

He felt his mouth curl up as he straightened. Clicking his tongue to call the dogs, they trotted beside him as he moved to the front steps and up them.

“Did you eat?” she asked before he even made it to her.

“Nope,” he answered.

She raised her eyes skyward.

His lips curled up farther.

She didn’t move from the door so he stopped in front of her. Boss Lady shoved into the house. Priest sat his ass down on the porch by his daddy.

Cassidy’s eyes moved over her husband’s face.

They ended their journey looking into his.

“It all go okay?” she asked.

“Girls asleep?” he asked back.

“For about two more seconds,” she replied.

Deacon grinned again. “Call Milagros,” he ordered.

“And I’m doing that…why?” she sassed.

“She’s lookin’ after our babies tonight. We’re spendin’ the night in cabin eleven.”

Her eyes changed. They went soft, and with that look, she reminded him what she made him feel, always, even when he wasn’t conscious of feeling it. Something he never thought he’d feel again, not in his life, not until she gave it to him. Something he now felt every fucking second of every fucking day he woke up by her side knowing he’d end that day going to sleep the same place.

Warm.

Safe.

Loved.

And happy.

* * * * *

Nick

One and a Half Hours Later

Nick stood on the tarmac leaning against the beat-up old Defender he’d bought, watching the plane taxi toward him.

It stopped well away.

He didn’t move.

He just watched.

The door slowly folded open.

The stairs barely hit the concrete before she came out, quickly and awkwardly, walking sideways down the narrow steps, holding on to the railing, her eyes aimed his way.

Suddenly, after months, Nick could breathe.

She was in pants. A blouse.

They didn’t match.

Suddenly, after months, Nick almost smiled.

And she had on spike heels.

That didn’t stop her.

He finally pushed away from the truck when he saw her begin running.

He started toward her swiftly but had to stop as she picked up speed.

He braced for impact, which was good since, when she hit him, she nearly knocked him off his feet.

Her hands were wrapped around the back of his skull, her head tipped back, her hair streaming down the arms he’d curled around her, he got one look into her shining green eyes. A look that obliterated the cold dead he’d last seen in them, which was a look that had tortured him for months. A look that was so gone, he got half a second to wonder if he’d actually seen it before she was up on her toes and her mouth was pressed to his.

He had words he wanted to say.

He’d take the kiss.

So he took it.

The sob that tore from her forced its way down his throat as she ripped her lips from his and buried her face in his neck.

He liked that, that emotion from his Livvie, fucking loved it.

But he wasn’t going to give her time. Maybe later.

Now he had to know.

He dipped his head and put his lips to her ear.

“Do you believe, Livvie?”

She nodded immediately, her face moving in his neck, her body trembling in his arms, her fingers digging into his scalp.

“Say it.”

He felt her swallow. He knew by the feel it was painful.

But she did it.

Her head dropped back and her shining eyes came again to his.

“I believe, Nicky.”

Nicky.

Yeah, finally, he could breathe.

Before, she’d kissed him.