“Good. You’re married.”

“See?” Irene asked sweetly, just to annoy. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

For a second there, she really thought the man might hit her.

Van watched Irene work the room. For someone enormously bad with normal human relations, she really amazed him when it came to trying to get donations for the university.

He didn’t want her to work, but he knew he had to do something. During the toast portion of the evening, he realized she’d taken his watch off and had the back pried off. A twenty thousand–dollar watch and she takes it apart.

Well, at least giving her a task had calmed her down. And she looked absolutely beautiful. Especially once she took her hair out of that bun. Stray hairs kept slipping out and she finally went to the bathroom and tore out all the pins. But he made a good choice with the dress since she couldn’t be bothered choosing her own beyond stating, “Nothing puffy like Princess Di wore.”

He should be annoyed. But he wasn’t. He loved that Irene couldn’t give a shit about their wedding. Because in the end it didn’t matter. With or without some piece of paper, they were together for life. No one else was as perfect for him as this one blindingly brilliant woman.

Irene walked back over to him but before she could drop into one of the chairs, he pulled her into his lap.

“You doing okay?”

“Yes. Mikolev Thornapple—an actual name, mind you—just promised ten thousand to the science department.” She looked down at him. “Are we going on a honeymoon?”

“Yep. Right after we’re done here.”

“Where?”

“Aruba.”

He had to bite his tongue when she frowned.

“Because my pasty butt does so well in the sun?”

Laughing, Van nipped her shoulder. “Switzerland, Germany, Norway, Scotland. We’ll be staying at lovely castles and B&Bs . . . all of them near very old, very interesting libraries.”

“You don’t mind me spending tons of time in stuffy old libraries?”

“Not if you promise to tell me anything interesting you learn . . . and you give me regular sex.”

“That is a promise I can commit to.”

“Figured.”

Suddenly Irene gently clasped his face between both her hands and kissed him. “As you may or may not know,” she said against his lips, “nearly 41 percent of all marriages end in divorce in this country. But I feel we’ll beat those odds simply because we’re so freakishly unusual and unstable enough to make this work. Especially with your unique DNA strain and my less-than-enthusiastic interest in legal actions of any kind.”

“Irene, you sweet talker, is that your way of saying we’re perfect for each other?”

“Yes. Wasn’t I clear? Also, we love each other and that’s most important. Because, really what is perfect? What does that—”

And Van kissed her before she could head down that long-winded road, happily wondering to himself how he ever got so lucky.

Epilogue

Twenty years later . . .

Irene waved and forced a smile until the last SUV disappeared down the road. Then she stormed into her house, slamming the door behind her.

Holtz reached for her. “Doc—”

“Not a word!” she snarled before heading up the stairs and going straight to her daughter’s room. She practically kicked the door open and the little viper didn’t even look away from her PC. No, that wasn’t right. Her Apple computer. Oh, the shame!

“How dare you!”

Finally startled away from whatever she was working on, Ulva Van Holtz turned in her chair to face her mother. “How dare I what?”

“Why did you tell her she was pregnant?”

Ulva blinked in confusion. “Because she is pregnant.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’m not sure what the issue is.”

“You simply can’t say whatever comes to your mind. And stop telling my students you found flaws in their thesis.”

“But you say whatever comes to your mind.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then I believe I am unclear on what your point is. And I did find flaws. In fact, she should rethink those last ten chapters altogether.”

Irene stepped closer to her daughter, with the possible intent of wringing her neck, but the two females stopped arguing when the Van Holtz men stumbled into view. Holtz held both his sons in his arms—upside-down.

“What are you three doing?”

“Nothing,” they replied in unison, which meant “something.”

“Papa says we can go over to Aunt Jack and Uncle Paul’s.” This said with her son’s sweetest smile. Not even twelve and already a heartbreaker.

“Oh, he did, did he?”

“I’ve already called,” Holtz admitted. “They said they’d love to have them over.”

“Well, with their other ten thousand children, what’s three more?”

“I’m not going,” Ulva said with a haughtiness that annoyed Irene no end.

“Yes. You will. Or you won’t play Warcraft again until the second coming. Do you understand?”

“Fine. I prefer Aunt Jackie’s company to anything I find around here anyway.” And then Ulva turned back to her computer, effectively dismissing her.

Irene went to choke her, but Holtz grabbed her hands and dragged her out of the room.