The Moment of Truth

EPILOGUE

IN THE KITCHEN, holding an expensive monogrammed pot holder to her face, Dana tried to control the tears that seemed to insist on sharing every single one of her days lately. It was one week before Christmas, one day before her wedding, and she had a houseful of people waiting to eat.

It was absolutely not the time for a breakdown. Tears served no purpose. They never had.

She jumped as hands slid around the green silk dress she was wearing to cup the small mound of her belly from behind. Dropping the pot holder, she clutched the arms, holding them around her. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed, love.” Josh’s voice came from the crook of her neck and she tilted her head back to look at him.

“I’m being an idiot, Josh,” she whispered. “I’ve been responsible for my own happiness for so long, I don’t know what to do with all of these people making me feel so loved.”

“What have you always done?” he asked, kissing her neck in a way that had her thinking of something very different. And feeling emotions that were definitely not appropriate with a houseful of guests waiting on them. “When you were teaching me how to survive L.G., what did you always say? When you thought you could never have everything you always wanted, what did you tell yourself?”

She smiled and pressed her lips to his. “One step at a time,” she said.

Just as she’d hoped, her lips were enough to distract him completely and he had his tongue in her mouth before either of them had time for another thought.

“Hey, buddy, I’ve given you my blessing to marry her, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up getting to know her myself. I’ve got twenty-five years to make up for.”

The voice came from behind them. Recognizing it, Dana jumped back and turned toward it, her face flaming. “Sorry, we were just, uh... Everything’s ready. I just had to get the rolls out of the oven.”

“Food’s been on the table for five minutes,” William Birmingham said. “The others sent me in here to get you two.”

“They actually sent me in here,” Josh piped up, and the sultry tone in his voice made her hot again.

“And now they’ve sent me.” Daniel appeared in the archway leading from the dining room. “Actually, that’s not quite true. But this is the first chance I’ve had alone with the two of you—” he nodded toward Josh and William “—and this girl.” He came toward Dana, holding out a hand to her, which she took. “I loved her as my own from the day she was born,” he said, his voice breaking. “And then I let her down. I lost the right to be her father. Dana, girl, I want you to know that I will regret my actions for the rest of my life. I love you so much. It killed me to know you weren’t mine.”

“But I am,” Dana said, swallowing against another onset of tears. “I always have been.”

William stepped back. And Dana stepped forward. “There was a day when I needed a dad and didn’t really have either one of you,” she said, taking William’s hand, too. “And now I have you both. To me, that’s fate making everything perfect.”

“Hey, you guys, we’re starving.” Jon appeared in the archway, dressed in his new black jeans. After much coercion, Jon had rented a tux for the triple wedding that was going to take place the next day at the Montford estate with Shelter Valley’s mayor, Becca Parsons, officiating.

“What Jon means is that we’ve been asked to come see what’s keeping you all,” Mark said, coming to stand behind Jon.

They’d had Thanksgiving together, the brother and sister and their significant others. At Dana and Josh’s new home with a houseful of students. And then the six had headed over to the Montfords’ for dessert.

But this night was different. This night, their parents were joining them....

“You need help, dear?” Barbara Redmond pushed past the two younger men and into the room. Without hesitating a beat, the society matron bent to the oven and, taking up the pot holders Dana had dropped, lifted the large tray of rolls out of the oven.

“Let me help with those,” Susan Harris said, wiping the corner of her husband’s eye as she grabbed a basket and spread one of the beautifully monogrammed napkins along the bottom.

She didn’t even seem to notice William, who had eyes only for his children. Dana knew, from a conversation she’d had with her mother, that she and William hadn’t even recognized each other when they’d met for the first time in more than twenty-five years the day before. Nor had there been any hint of a spark between them.