Chuckling, I give her a squeeze. “That’s nice, Jules. All of what you said. Just really nice. But you’re leaving out the most important thing.”

She rolls her eyes at me and leans back farther to level me with a bit of a stern look. “I was getting to the good part if you’d just have a little patience.”

I incline my head in apology. “My bad.”

She huffs out a breath of annoyance but her eyes are anything but. They’re warm and vibrant and full of emotion. “I love you, Max,” she says softly. “Just like you . . . it’s madly. It’s crazy, crazy. It’s head over heels, tumbling further and further into it with you, but I am ready for every bit of dizziness that comes with it. I want it all, Max, but mostly I just want you.”

Yeah . . . that right there.

That punch of elation hitting me square in the chest, taking hold of my heart, squeezing it almost painfully for just a moment before it starts to fill up with this feeling of joy and completeness.

That’s a feeling I can get used to.

It’s a feeling I don’t ever want to do without, and now I’m hearing it straight from Jules . . . she doesn’t want to do without it again either.

“Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, baby,” I murmur as I release my hold and move my hands to her face. Her own hands come up to lock around my wrists, holding me firm as she looks at me with shimmering eyes.

“We are so on the same page,” she affirms softly, and then adds, “And Stevie’s watching the kids tonight so I’m all yours until tomorrow morning.”

I shake my head with an amused smile. “Uh-uh. You’re mine forever.”

She smiles at me . . . bright and brilliant and full of love. “My bad. I am absolutely yours forever.”

Epilogue

Jules

One week later. Christmas Eve . . .

“We should have gone tonight,” I tell Max as I burrow into his side on the couch. All the lights are off and there’s nothing but the glow of the Christmas tree by which we can see. His left arm wraps around me and gives me a squeeze.

“No way in hell we should have gone,” he says. His voice is low and mellow and oh so very happy. “This is how I want to spend Christmas Eve.”

We skipped the traditional Christmas party at Brian Brannon’s house, owner of the Cold Fury. It’s not a mandatory party, from what Max says, and it sounds super fun, also from what Max says, but when it came right down to it . . . he wanted a more traditional evening.

That included bringing me and the kids to his house, where we found the space under the Christmas tree—which we’d put up just two days ago—filled with brightly wrapped presents. The evening included a meal I’d cooked including a ham, sweet potatoes, a corn soufflé, and a tourtière I made just for Max using his mother’s recipe. After, we watched A Christmas Story with the kids, and before they went to bed, we let them each open one gift.

After that, Max and I waited a sufficient amount of time for the kids to settle down, and with a quick peek inside each of their rooms, where we’d put them down, we both went a little nuts laying out the gifts from “Santa.”

We overbought, no doubt. It had everything to do with the fact it was their first Christmas without Melody. Max bought a ton of stuff and I didn’t even argue with him at all about it. I also bought a ton of stuff, depleting my savings account, but . . . oh well. I was happy and in love and I had amazing kids. This Christmas was going to rock!

Now as we’re settled onto his couch and looking at the obscene amount of toys under the tree, I’m just really glad we didn’t go to Brian Brannon’s party tonight, but rather, celebrated privately our first Christmas together.

“Want to make out?” Max asks seriously, his hand sliding from my arm down to my hip.

“Of course I want to make out,” I tell him as if that was the most stupid question in the world, because when don’t I want to make out with Max?

With a low chuckle he hauls me onto his lap, positions me sideways, and then his mouth is on mine.

God, that just gets better and better.

This kiss is deep and passionate, and later we’ll let it turn into a bit more before we go to sleep. But for now it’s brief and I’m satisfied even as he pulls away and rests his cheek against mine so we can both look at the tree a little bit more.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” I murmur as I stare at the glowing lights.

Max gives me a squeeze. “They’re going to flip out when they see the presents.”

Yeah . . . they are.

I can’t wait.

Three weeks later . . .

“This is the last one,” Hawke says as he waddles in with a monstrous box housing all of my art supplies. “Where do you want it?”

“Sunroom,” I say as I turn to point to the large glassed-in room just off the den area. My intent was to just set my stuff up in the basement somewhere but Max wouldn’t hear of it. He said something about an artist needs natural light.

I started to argue with him because I didn’t want to take over the sunroom. It was a beautiful place and didn’t need my paints and brushes all around. But Max wouldn’t engage me with my argument and sort of put his foot down.

I kinda, sorta gave in very quickly, and let’s just say . . . I’m learning when to be stubborn and when to let Max get a little alpha on me.

Which is kind of hot.

Hawke walks to the sunroom and unloads his burden, then immediately heads to the kitchen to pull a beer out of the fridge. He mutters, “Not sure how I got unloading duty.”

I see Vale just behind him give him an eye roll, then a quick kiss, before she turns to open the oven and check on the lasagna she’d brought over as a housewarming present.

Yes . . . it’s sort of my housewarming because today is the day that the kids and I moved into Max’s house.

It didn’t take long for Max to convince me. In fact, he started working on me the evening of the charity gala a month ago, and when I say he worked on me, that meant he kept trying to get me to agree to it while he was fucking me, but doing it so slowly I couldn’t quite grab ahold of the orgasm that was fluttering just beyond my reach.

When I agreed, he slammed home and tipped me over the edge. I became very, very happy and Max got what he wanted as well.

The reason it’s taken me a month to move in is because of the holidays, then Max insisted that each kid get to decorate their own room and pick out what furniture they wanted. I was slightly uneasy over this, but then Max did what he does best . . . he just simply reminded me that his commitment to me was a commitment to us as a family. That naturally included the kids, and that his desire wasn’t just to have me but to have them as well.