“Stop talking in riddles and say what you came to say,” Sadie snapped.
Carrick nodded, sat down on the edge of the closest chair and crossed one ankle over his knee. He sent her a steady look, a look that was full of—dare she believe it?—love.
“When I told Tamlyn I wanted a divorce, she went a little nuts. What I thought would be an amicable split turned into a living nightmare. She didn’t want to be married to me, but she sure as hell didn’t want me leaving her, either. And she wanted to punish me. She went after my house, the art, the company. It was all stipulated in the prenup so she couldn’t touch any of it. Stories started appearing in the press and they always occurred within a few days of a meeting with our lawyers...and always when she didn’t get her way.”
Carrick was explaining his past; he was opening up. Sadie dropped to the nearest chair, scared to say anything in case he stopped talking.
“The more she lost, the more she wanted to hurt me. I had threatening calls, threatening text messages. Believe it or not, she egged my house. She eventually calmed down when I threatened her with a restraining order. But the rumors kept on coming. My siblings wanted me to take her on about what she was saying, but I refused to let them. People would either believe her or me and I sure as hell wasn’t going to beg them to believe me.
“I didn’t care what anyone thought until you came along,” Carrick added, his voice low and his words saturated with emotion. “I expected you to trust me without explanation, but I couldn’t do the same for you. So with your permission, I’m going to try that conversation from yesterday again...”
Sadie tipped her head, keeping her fingers tightly knotted.
“Sadie, I heard you might be going back to Paris. Is that true?”
Sadie shook her head. “No. It’s a long story why Beth thought it important to renew my lease instead of canceling it as I asked her to do, but no, I’m staying in Boston. One of my to-do items is finding an apartment or home in Boston, preferably a two-bedroom place so I can have a nursery.”
The tension seeped out of Carrick as he played with the laces on his shoe. “I know of a pretty big house where you could have your choice of bedrooms for a nursery.”
Sadie pretended to misunderstand him. “Really, where?”
He sent her a you’re-messing-with-me look. “In Beacon Hill. Unfortunately, the offer comes with a couple of provisos. You’d have to share my bed, and I’d expect to put my ring on your finger at some point.”
Sadie leaned forward, her arms on her thighs. It was all she wanted, but it wasn’t enough. “Are you offering to marry me because I need a place to stay or because I’m having your child?”
“I want to marry you because I can’t imagine not marrying you, not living with you, not having you as the center of my life. I want you to live with me because I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I’m crazy mad in love with you, Dr. Slade.”
Sadie wanted to believe him; she really did. She wanted to fall into the hope blooming in her chest, to trust what he was telling her was the truth. But she was scared, so scared of being disappointed by him again.
“You and I, we’re a team, Sades. I messed up yesterday big-time, but I am asking you one more time to trust in me, to trust in us. When you fall down, I’ll pick you up. When somebody comes for you, I want to be the one who stands between you and the world. When you have a bad day, I want to be the one to give you a good night. I’ll be there, Sadie, every step of the way. I promise to love you through everything life throws at us.”
Sadie felt that hard layer of ice surrounding her heart crack and fall away, felt her stomach slip out of its tangled knot. Then Carrick held out his hand, and Sadie placed hers in his, emotion burning as she finally, finally realized she was home. Wherever Carrick was. She’d never be alone again.
She was, as he said, part of a team.
Carrick’s hand tightened around hers and he gave her a yank, pulling her into his arms. Scooping her up to sit on his lap, her legs straddling his thighs, he held her face and stared deeply into her eyes. “I love you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I disappointed you. Please give me, give us, another chance.”
Sadie traced his eyebrow with one finger. “I love you, too.”
“That’s good to hear, but that’s still not a yes on my let’s-give-us-another-chance question,” Carrick said, his voice gentle. “I need to know, Sades.”
“Yes, Carrick. To everything.”
Carrick’s shoulders slumped and Sadie felt the last of his tension leave his body. Then he picked up her hand and tugged. Sadie looked down and saw she was still holding the printout of the painting and she remembered her fantastic news. “Carrick, I found something! It’s amazing news... Homer definitely painted this—”
Carrick placed his hand over her mouth, his eyes filled with joy. “Sweetheart, I realize I am always going to have to compete with art for your attention, but right now, can I not?” His hands dropped to the edges of her sweater and he slowly, deliberately pulled it up her body. “You, Sadie Slade, are my greatest treasure, my best canvas, my favorite piece of art. And I intend to spend the next sixty years reminding you of that every damn day.”
Sadie allowed the photograph to drift to the floor. He was right; this was their time. Her news could wait.
The celebration of their love could not.