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“That’s your own poor planning.”

Theo stares at him. “You become unbearable when you’re happy.”

Bane looks at me. “I can live with that.”

His smile makes my chest ache.

Babs and Biddy have already moved on to wedding plans, with Babs insisting she can carry flowers and Biddy informing her that she wants “the pretty basket.”

Mara is holding Lucy as Kira tries to convince Max that he doesn’t need my necklace, and Theo has finally abandoned his sandwich to Sprout.

Bane watches them with me.

“I didn’t think I’d have this,” he says.

I turn toward him.

He shifts his attention to Max, then Lucy, before looking at Babs and Biddy.

I put my newly ringed hand against his chest. “You deserve it.”

His eyes meet mine, and I wait for the argument he would’ve given me a year ago, when accepting that he deserved any of this would’ve been harder than fighting me over it.

Instead, he bends and kisses my forehead, leaving my hand beneath his as though there’s nothing left to dispute.

By the time we get all four children home, fed, bathed, and into bed, the excitement of the afternoon has finally caught up with them.

Babs falls asleep after asking whether weddings can have chocolate cake, and Biddy makes me promise she can wear “shiny shoes” before closing her eyes.

Max and Lucy barely survive their bottles.

Sprout follows us into our bedroom and drops onto the rug as though he spent the day doing anything beyond stealing food and threatening pedestrians with a branch.

I’m standing beside the bed looking at my ring again when Bane comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

“You’ve been staring at it all day.”

“I’ve only had it for a few hours.”

“You’ve spent most of those hours looking at your hand.”

I turn in his arms and slide my hands up his chest. “Were you really nervous?”

“Yes.”

“You thought I might say no?”

“I wasn’t going to decide your answer for you.”

The response is so completely him that my smile disappears beneath the rush of affection it brings.

I kiss him, and his hands tighten around my waist as he pulls me closer.

When we separate, I brush my thumb along his jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I know what Bane’s love looks like at two in the morning with a screaming baby in his arms, and I’ve seen it across conference tables when we disagree about work, then again at breakfast while the girls argue over cereal.