“That you were.”
“I always am.”
I snorted. “You’re an arrogant ass at times, but you somehow make it work for you. I don’t even know how. It’s like your superpower or something.”
“When I was a kid, I wanted the power to teleport so I could go anywhere in the world. Which reminds me … I have a surprise for you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. We’re going on a trip next weekend.”
I smiled. “We are? Where?”
“Venice. Hanna told me you always wanted to go there. It’ll be our belated honeymoon.”
I hugged him tight. “Thank you. I’m super excited. Wait, what about Blue?”
“She can come with us. We’re not staying in a hotel. We’re staying in my villa.”
“Well of course you have a villa in Venice. Do you own houses anywhere else?”
“A few places. You’d like the lodge in the French Alps.”
“Alps? I would not have pictured you as a skier.”
He shrugged. “I might never have tried it, but … Oliver always wanted to learn to ski.”
And because the little boy had never had that chance, Dane had done it for him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to answer, I won’t be upset if you don’t. I just wondered … Does the ‘o’ in o-Verve stand for Oliver?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Why ‘Verve?’”
“As a toddler, he couldn’t correctly say ‘Oliver.’ He used to point at himself and say ‘Verver.’ But if people said, ‘Oh, your name is Verver?’ He’d scowl and say ‘no, Verver.’ In his mind, he was pronouncing it correctly.”
A sad smile pulled at one corner of my mouth. “So, you added the ‘O’ and dropped one of the ‘Rs’.” And, in doing so, honored his brother.
“Yes.”
I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you for telling me that.”
Dane hummed and sipped from my mouth again, tasting and tantalizing me. The kiss soon became hard and deep and wet. “Now I want you naked. Well, mostly naked. The boots can stay.”
“Fine, but I’m not sleeping in them.”
“All right,” he said easily, so sure he’d get his way.
He did, actually.
Epilogue
Eight years later
“I don’t like what this time of year does to you.”
Dropping my paper plate into the kitchen trash can, I looked over my shoulder at Dane. “You don’t like to see me happy?”
“I don’t like to see you regress. Or to see the downstairs of our home looking like a spooky crypt.”
“I didn’t go that far.” Okay, maybe I did. There were pumpkins, foam tombstones, synthetic spiderwebs, and fake skeletons all around. Rubber bats and strings of ghost lights dangled from the ceiling. I even had inflatable props like scarecrows, witches, and grim reapers. My favorite thing was the bubbling cauldron that occasionally let out a wicked cackle or other spooky sound.
The truth was … I went crazy with the decorations every Halloween. Turning to fully face him, I said, “I regret nothing.”
“Was the smoke machine really necessary?” he griped.
I tilted my head. “You sure you’re not just being whiny because you’ve spilled red juice all over your shirt?”
“I didn’t spill it. Our daughter poured it on me because she thought it would be ‘awesome’ if it looked like I was covered in blood.”
I clamped my lips together to stifle a smile. “I’m assuming you mean Alicia.”
Our four-year-old daughter wasn’t the most placid of children. She insisted she was a princess, fought with the soul of a reincarnated MMA fighter, and had a mischievous streak that seemed embedded in every bone.
“She just wants you to look, you know … Halloween-y,” I defended. “You never dress up.”
“Because I’m not seven.”
“Adults dress up, too,” I reminded him, gesturing at my Maleficent outfit. I crossed to him and slid my hands up his chest. “It’s a shame you won’t. You’d look hot as a fireman.” I hummed as he kissed me, curling his arms tight around me. “But this particular holiday has grown on you—I’ll take that as a win.”
He grunted. “Come on, you’re missing this party you insisted on throwing.”
“It’s good to see you’re enjoying it,” I said dryly.
Dane kept one arm looped around my waist as he led me out of the kitchen. Walking into the living room, I had to smile at the sight of the kids dancing to the Ghostbusters theme song while playing Musical Statues.
Dane might not be too pleased by the effort I’d put into the party, but the children were sure enjoying themselves. They particularly liked the spread. Many of the foods were made to look like Halloween decorations such as ghosts, eyeballs, fingers, and mummies.
Drinking a glass of punch, Melinda frowned at the stain on Dane’s shirt. “What happened to you?”
He sighed. “Alicia.”
“Ah, I see,” Melinda said. Because, to be honest, no further explanation was needed—the kid got up to all kinds of shit.
“It’s a shame Junior didn’t come,” I said.
“He’s thirteen now,” she reminded me. “He considers himself too old to celebrate Halloween.”