“Sorry, just wanted to run a quick load,” I said. “So you didn't have to do it.”
I couldn’t interpret Indi’s expression. “But I want to hold her,” I said quickly, sitting down next to Indi.
Aoife was tiny and perfect, with curly auburn hair and bright blue eyes that blinked up at me.
“She’s beautiful,” I said. “Look at that sweet little expression on her face. She looks just like her mama.”
“She just had a bunch of milk,” Indi laughed. “Such a good eater.”
I raised Aoife up a bit to hold one of her tiny hands, and she looked marvelingly at me.
Then she threw up all over my shirt and tie.
“Oh—I’m sorry!” Indi cried.
“No need to apologize,” I laughed, dabbing at the spit-up with a burp rag and then sitting Aoife up and supporting her neck carefully so I could pat her gently on the back. “Powder-blue is a bit of a passé color anyways. Really she did me a favor.”
I patted her back gently until Aoife gave the cutest burp and I looked up to tell Indi about it when I saw my ex-wife had tears in her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” I asked anxiously. “Are you OK?”
“Ambrose, I—missed you. You and Julian. And Harold, of course,” she laughed. “But I missed you a lot.”
A wild, untamed hope sprung into my heart.
“Indi, does that mean—do you mean—”
I could barely even bring myself to verbalize what I was hoping.
“It seems I still love you,” she said, the tears hovering angelically on her lashes.
“I love you, Ambrose.”
Carefully cradling Aoife against my chest, I slid to my knees in front of her.
“I love yousomuch, Indi. I swear I’ll never make you cry ever again. I can’t stand being apart from you.Marry me again.”
My arm was around her waist, squeezing her delicious curves. Wanting to hear the words over and over.
“Yes,” she breathed, and I felt the cool soft sensation of her hands sliding around my neck, touching my flushed and overheated skin, making me burn everywhere for her.
“I could live without you,” she said. “But I don’t want to.”
My head filled with such pure joy as she tipped up her lips to be kissed that the room spun around me and I had to gasp for breath.
“O goddess of mountainous mercy,” I cried, forgetting that my pompous poetry was absolutely not going to do me any favors, but she only laughed delightedly.
“It was your cooking, Ambrose,” she teased. “Yourcookingthat turned the tide, not your poetry. But I kind of like it, tell me some more.”
“Your hair is like a fiery deluge,” I began, before starting to laugh too, at myself, at the wild, untamed joy that flowed through me, and I sat on the couch beside her and kissed her again.
Epilogue (Indi)
One year later
“The prodigal father returns!” Harold caroled as he burst in the front door, looking tanned and fit from his most recent cruise.
At first there was a little difficulty over Harold having no money to divorce the horrible Millicent, but when I found out that was the hold-up I insisted he borrow some of my money for a lawyer.
