Samira tugged on Aiden’s tie—she’d gotten in the habit of pulling him toward her by it whenever the mood struck her and he certainly wasn’t complaining, especially when those same ties had been used to attach her to bedposts more than once—but today she wasn’t trying to drag him off to bed. She adjusted the knot, smoothing it out, making it perfect.
“He’d be so proud of you,” she murmured, her attention still on the tie.
“I hope so.” He grimaced. “I’m a little surprised my mother didn’t hire a speechwriter to give me some talking points for the eulogy.”
“She wanted to,” Samira commented with a wry grin. “I talked her out of it.”
That was one of the most surprising developments of the last seven months—the strange alliance between his mother and his bride. His mother had indeed apologized to Samira. She and Samira had navigated around one another cautiously—like two foreign powers feeling one another out, both with nukes at the ready—but then Aiden had disagreed with his mother one day, Samira had taken Regina’s side, and the two had been fast friends ever since.
It was an odd sort of partnership, but they were now working together on his campaign—which was more than a little frightening. When the two of them put their heads together, he hadn’t stood a chance.
He and Samira had debated the decision to run for office long and hard, but his wife had finally declared that they did not live their lives in fear. That wasn’t who they were.
His wife.
He liked thinking it. He liked saying it. He loved seeing his grandmother’s ring on her finger.
They’d been planning a small wedding for the spring, just a few family and friends, but Aiden hadn’t wanted to wait and in the end it had been just the two of them and the girls at the court house, with Scott and Jackie as witnesses.
Samira had worried that her mother-in-law would never forgive her for leaving her out of the wedding, but it had actually been Samira’s parents who seemed to be the most upset not to be invited—and Samira was coming around to the idea of having a second ceremony for their families as originally planned in the spring.
Though now they were planning around another event.
Samira hadn’t gotten pregnant at the wedding like she’d feared, but their lack of attention to condoms had caught up to them a couple months later—a fact which had probably gone a long way to cementing the alliance with his mother. She did love grandchildren.
Things were still tense between Samira and her father, but they were speaking again, even if just cautiously. Aiden and Samira had taken the girls to visit her parents once, back in August. The subject of Trevor had never come up and her folks seemed eager to visit DC when the baby was born.
And whenever her father brought up her unlimited potential, she told him quite confidently that she was living up to it. With Aiden. Together they were going to have an impact. They were going to change the world.
She still didn’t like being in the public eye, but Aiden had seen in the last few months how much courage she had, facing down her fear of being on display—sometimes catching his eye and making faces just for him when she felt the most awkward.
There had been a few uncomfortable moments, fitting their lives together, and there would be more, but they got through them like they got through everything. Together.
Like they would get through this.
Aiden swallowed thickly and Samira smoothed her hands over his shoulders. “You okay?”
He nodded, tugging her into his arms. “I’m glad you got to meet him.”
“Me too.” She tucked her cheek against his chest. “I was thinking we should name the baby Dalton.”
Dalton Raines.
His throat closed off and he swallowed hard before he could answer. “I’d like that.”
His grandfather hadn’t really been all there when he met Samira. He’d called her beautiful, smiling at her vaguely, and patted Aiden absently on the hand. Dalton hadn’t known him, hadn’t known what was happening, Aiden was sure of it, but then, the next week, out of the blue, he’d grabbed Aiden’s hand and shoved a small box into it. A box containing his wife’s engagement ring.
He’d never remarried. That ring box had been in the top drawer of Dalton’s desk for the last forty-five years. Carol’s ring.
He’d pressed it fervently into Aiden’s hand. “Don’t let her get away,” he’d urged.
“I won’t,” Aiden had promised, squeezing his grandfather’s hand.
The ring wasn’t large or ostentatious. Dalton had met and wooed Carol when he was still making his fortune, but it was all the more precious for that.
Aiden touched the ring now where it rested on Samira’s finger. It had fit perfectly without having to be sized. One of those little moments of serendipity.
“We should go,” he murmured and she nodded against his chest. She stepped back and he took her hand, weaving their fingers together. A team. On their way to the funeral of a great man. To say goodbye. And to carry his legacy into the future.
A legacy of strength, and wit, and love.
THE END