Her breath quickened. “You can talk in front of Ethan.”
“As you wish.” He swallowed. “I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve been wrong, and it seems I’ve, uh, been wrong about those, uh, you know. Those pictures you take. The, uh, the private ones. I should have trusted you.” He cleared his throat. “Old men can be stubborn. Stubborn and stupid.”
All of her defences came crashing down.
“Oh, Grandpa.” Carrie went to him and he enfolded her in his strong arms, the embrace like a drink of cold, fresh water after a long drought.
“I’m so sorry, Care-Bear,” he said roughly. Then he lifted his head and nodded at Ethan. “She deserves the best, this one.”
Carrie stepped back and looked between them. It seemed to her that a gauntlet had been thrown down.
“I agree,” said Ethan, gazing unflinchingly at the older man. “She’s had a lot of crap, lately.”
“She has. You gonna change that?”
“The world is what it is,” Ethan responded evenly. “Stuff happens. All I can guarantee is who I am.”
She touched his arm. “Ethan.”
Nate gazed back stonily, silently, waiting.
“I can’t promise the best,” continued Ethan, without breaking eye contact with Nate. “Only my best. If she wants it.”
Carrie couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, could barely breathe over the lump in her throat as these two men stood on either side of her, declaring, in their own very different ways, how much she meant to them.
Grandfather let another long moment stretch between them. Then he nodded once, as if he’d come to a verdict.
“Okay then. I’ll be watching.”
“Good.” Ethan put his arm around her and tucked her against his side. “So will I.”
Carrie watched through tears as her tall, unbending, beloved, utterly dependable grandfather walked away.
“Ethan.” Her heart felt like an overfilled sponge, leaking into her chest, flooding her body.
That’s when she glimpsed an item tucked under her grandfather’s arm. She looked closer, blinking to clear her vision.
A small album. With the Forever Yours Intimate logo on it. And a name on the side.
Pansy Oppenheimer.
She put her hand to her mouth as laughter bubbled up. “I don’t believe it.”
Ethan followed her gaze.
“Huh,” he said. Then he took her chin between his fingers and looked at her, his deep dark unfathomable eyes crystal clear to her.
“Forever yours, Carrie,” he said. “Believe it.”
And finally, with people watching or not, she didn’t care, he kissed her.
Chapter Twenty
‡
Epilogue
Ethan looked at the spade in his hand, then at the thorny sticks that were all that was left after Carrie had had her way with his roses.
“You sure this won’t kill them? They’ve never bloomed since I’ve lived her. Not once.”
Carrie straightened up, wiping sweat from her brow. “You’re going to be amazed. They’re going to bloom like crazy, come spring. Now quit being such a chicken and dig.”
“Chicken, huh?” he said. “Just for that, you get to feed Shandy tonight.”
The horses whickered at them from over the fence, wanting their treat. It was an empty threat and he knew it. The crotchety little pony was all sweetness and light, it seemed, now that Carrie was around.
Ethan understood the feeling.
In the few months they’d been together his life had transformed. Everything was fresh and new. He’d mended his fences with Don Ackerman and was actually mentoring a few of the computer science students. Clinton Calloway had given up his campaign to make Ethan’s life miserable.
Amanda Frankel had taken one of Dixie’s puppies, as had Sherry Hagerson. The other two had also found good homes and all of them wanted Ethan to help train them.
Carrie had insisted on keeping Dixie herself. Belinda had gone on a one-week hunger strike, then changed her mind, treating the dog like her own personal toy.
“Why do I feel like I’m doing all the work around here?” said Carrie, tossing a clump of sod at him.
He dropped his spade and grabbed her instead, whirling her around in the air. The dogs barked and Gun, his leg improved enough to jump again, leaped to Carrie’s defense. The dog was a total turncoat.