Chapter Thirty-Nine

Three months later

"I don't wanna be late! Hurry, Luke! You're gonna make me miss everything!" Tanner yelled from the kitchen. Dressed in a mini-tuxedo, he was the sweaty, anxious ringbearer for today's prestigious event, and he was taking it seriously.

"I coming," Luke grouched, his red-and-blue striped tie hanging loose around his little neck. "Daddy says I hafta leave Spot home, but I don't wanna." He glared at his father, as he climbed up beside Grissom on the couch. "Spot's never seen a wedding. He wants ta come, too."

Damn Taylor Armstrong for telling him that no ring bearer worth his salt was ever late. The poor kid had never watched the microwave clock like he was watching it today. Heston and London were finally getting married, and they'd chosen Maverick's barn for the ceremony and reception, and Tanner for their ringbearer. The rustic place was decorated to the rafters, and every last one of those Percherons' manes were braided and they had ribbons woven into their tails. Made quite a sight in the pasture.

Grissom snagged his youngest and settled him on his lap. "You can bring Spot, but he'll have to stay in the truck once we get there."

"But Daddy—"

"Luke." One word was all it took for Luke to comply. He wasn't the bossy little guy he'd been before What's-Her-Name poisoned him. Grissom wasn't sure his youngest understood that she'd tried to kill him. All of his life, Pam had made him believe he was her favorite when she wasn't capable of loving anyone but herself.

For the first time in their lives, Grissom and his sons had futures worth looking forward to, and that future was bright. After engaging with three (Tuesday had more) high-powered New York City attorneys, What's-Her-Name's bully lawyer had backed off her ridiculous demand for full custody. Like a leopard changing his spots, he then went one better and convinced Pam to relinquish all parental rights. She'd never wanted her sons—or her daughter—anyway. To her, children were just tools in her already overflowing arsenal of spite and hatred.

With assistance from Frederick Lamb's sons, Tuesday now possessed architectural plans, the necessary permits, and licenses to build her dream. Grissom was at her side the afternoon they'd (mostly her) purchased the derelict farmland between The TEAM's and Maverick's properties. There they would build Home Away from Home , an assisted living center for men in need of a break or escape from their abusive wives or significant others. Marriages today were complicated, not always between a man and a woman. Her unique center would accommodate any man who needed a way out of a relationship, better coping skills, mental or medical care.

He still had to reach out to his dad. Soon. Not today.

She'd insisted on paying off Grissom's mortgage, too, but that was where he'd drawn a hard line. Her funding worthwhile projects made her happy as a clam, but providing for his wife and family was Grissom's job, and that job made him happy. The bank might own ninety-nine percent of the home they lived in at the moment, but pay for it he would. Between the sale of his house in Crystal Spring and the nice bump in salary he'd just received for a mission well done in Afghanistan, that mortgage would be paid off in no time. They'd celebrate the momentous achievement then.

Just thinking of growing old with Tuesday calmed the hell out of Grissom. He'd never known true peace until he'd dropped into her life that day in Puntarenas. He honestly wouldn't have connected with her after that, until, once again, she'd run pell-mell into a pasture full of giant horses to save Luke's life. That was what she did best. Tuesday saved lives. Grissom's included.

Which brought him back to his family room, where he was tying a proper Windsor knot in his youngest son's tie. Until Luke breathed, "Wow. Mama, you look bee-uuu-tee-full!"

Mama? That was a first.

Grissom looked to the doorway where Tuesday stood half-in, half-out of the hall doorway. Luke was spot on. She was—wow. Sinfully gorgeous. There were no words to adequately describe the radiant beauty twisting a chunk of chestnut brown in her fingers. No two ways about it. Wearing a mint green (she'd called it celadon), off-the-shoulder gown (she'd called that a dress?), she was a goddess beyond compare. Name one. Aphrodite. Diana. Freyja. Artemis. Venus. Didn't matter if they were Greek, Roman, or Norse. Nothing on Earth or in Heaven compared with the woman gazing wide-eyed at Luke.

"You are so-o-o-o purdy!" He clapped, bouncing his little butt on Grissom's thigh. "Tanner! Come see Too-Day!"

Of course, Tuesday went straight for the little tyke whose words had jump-started her heart and knelt at his feet. "You called me Mama."

"'Course!" Luke chirped. "Me and Tanner decided we're gonna call you Mama from now on. Is that okay?"

Tears fell as Tuesday gathered Luke into her arms on the floor and told him, "Oh, my heavens, yes, sweetheart."

Tanner collided with the twosome, burying his face in Tuesday's neck and whispering, "I ain't calling you Miss Tuesday no more. You're the best Mama in the whole world."

Grissom sat alone in the corner of the couch, listening to his youngsters. They didn't like Pam much now. She'd hurt them, and their trauma was fresh. But the day might come when they'd forget and they might want more information about her. Might even reach out to her. Grissom hoped not, but he'd do everything in his power to facilitate a safe meeting. Hopefully, they'd be grown men by then, confident, and mature enough to understand that not all women made good mothers.

These last months had taught Grissom what true love looked, sounded, and tasted like. The love Tuesday had readily given away to two lost boys in Costa Rica, had come back to her a thousand-fold. Tanner and Luke adored her.

Destiny might be real, but love had it beat. Grissom didn't need to make this tender moment about him. It was enough to sit there and covertly wipe his eyes while the woman of his dreams loved on their sons. Luke's calling her Mama proved Grissom's point. He fingered the velvet box in his pants pocket. Tuesday already belonged to the best family in the world—his—and soon the whole world would know because she'd be wearing his ring and his name. Luke's shiny silver nut, the ring he'd given her Christmas Eve, was in the velvet box in Grissom's other pocket. He'd had it engraved with three words: Anytime. Every. Time. He figured he'd let Tanner and Luke teach her what it meant.

What's-Her-Name had chosen poorly. Love did conquer hate, and Grissom was watching it in action. Bullies the world over should take notice. His girl Tuesday Smart, soon to be the much-adored Mrs. Grissom McCoy, was in the house.

And she was fuckin' dynamite.

The End