Gray ran his fingers over the ribbons, then up to his wings. He'd flown a lot of hours and worked hard for that star over them. Damned hard. He'd once thought those pilot wings meant everything to him.
Now he knew better.
His world was in the room beside him. Lori and Magda. If he had to give up those wings to keep them, then he would do it. Nothing was worth risking losing them again.
So easily he could envision a lifetime of nights like this. Except he would be reading the bedtime story with Lori, singing Magda a song.
Gray draped his jacket over the balcony railing, smoothing out the wrinkles with one slow sweep, then pivoted to face his future.
Lori stood framed in the French doors, one silky shirttail hanging loose from her skirt. Sticky, chocolate fingerprints dotted her shoulder. Wisps of hair escaped her braid, caressing her face.
Mussed, maternal, and so unbelievably beautiful she stole his breath. He knew without question, she always would.
Lori stared at Gray, the porch light cascading down his coal-black hair, glimmering in his bottle green eyes. Eyes that met hers with resolution, determination and—dare she hope—love.
She pulled Magda's doors closed behind her and joined him by the wooden rail. An ocean breeze ruffled the muggy air along with his close-shorn hair. He tugged his tie free, smoothing it over his jacket before he loosened the top two buttons on his shirt. "Mind if we sit?"
"Sounds great. It's been a long day."
He ignored the rocker and lowered himself to the planked floor. His leather shoes squeaked as he sat with his back against the house. He opened his arms to her and waited. "Please."
Slowly Lori sat between his knees, the warmth of the boards nothing in comparison to the heat of Gray's thighs on either side of her. Sitting straight and stiff in his arms seemed ridiculous after all they'd shared.
After all he'd said.
She relaxed against his chest, his starched shirt rasping against her silk. Had he meant it in the courtroom? A last fragment of insecurity whispered, trying to shake her with doubts that he'd only spoken to help her keep Magda.
This was about so much more than Magda.
He raised his arm beside Lori's face and pointed, the scent of dry cleaner starch oddly arousing. "That grouping of stars there. Cassiopeia. They always rise in the east, set in the west, without fail anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere. No matter what porch we sit on, we'll be able to see them."
"We?" She held herself still, didn't dare turn.
He answered without hesitation. "You, me, Magda … any other kids we add to the mix."
Wary expectancy tingled over her. He'd mentioned marriage before, and again in the courtroom when she'd been in danger of losing Magda.
This was different. Real, somehow. "Is that a proposal?"
His chuckle rumbled in her ear, against her back. "Still not quite there, am I, hon?"
"You're getting closer."
He turned her sideways. Streetlamps and the moon cast mellow beams across his face as he stared down into her eyes. "Close isn't good enough. It has to be right. You said so yourself, and you're the smartest woman I've ever met."
If she'd been smarter, she could have saved them both so much heartache by figuring it out the first go-round. But then they never would have met Magda, the precious child who had brought them back together.
"Please come with me. I know your job's important, so I checked. There's a northwest branch of the NGO in Tacoma." He cradled Lori to his chest. "I can't do anything about the Air Force right now. I owe them—"
"Gray, I understand—"
"No." He gave her a gentle squeeze. "Listen. I owe them four more years for financing part of med school." His chest rose and fell deeply behind her. "But when my time's up, if this isn't working for you, I'll get out."
Lori twisted to see him, hope blossoming into full bloom. "You would do that? For me?"
She would do that for him, but hadn't expected he would do the same for her.
He answered without hesitation. "Yes. You mean more to me than anything else. I can't lose you again."