He brushed his knuckles down her jawline, caressing her cheek. “I’m saying that I’ve already won. I don’t need to win in the ring to know who I am. I don’t need the titles or the belts or the accolades. You were right when you said I had a choice. I do. And I choose you. I choose Sebastian. I choose to fight for love and honor you and Meredith, not with victories in the ring but with action here at home.”
“And where is home?” she asked, her voice a scrape of a sound.
“Wherever you are, plum.” He sank to his knee. “I’m trading one ring for another,” he said, tears in his eyes. He glanced at Sebastian. “Do you have it, mate?”
The boy pulled a small wooden box from his pocket. “Sorry, Dad, I was looking at the crazy crow flying above us in circles.”
A crow?
She looked up as the bird made another loop, then dropped something.
“Ouch!” Harper called, rubbing her head. “That bird dropped a rock on me.”
“Sorry H, but FYI,” she said. “I’m pretty sure that crow is the spiritual bird equivalent of my mom.”
Harper stared into the sky. “Next time, aim for Charlotte or Penny, Mrs. Lamb,” H grouched, then grimaced. “And so nice to see you. Have fun crowing out up there.”
Raz cocked his head to the side. “That’s your mum?”
“Her intention, her hope for me to find love. It’s a long story,” she said, smiling down at him. “But it’s a good omen, a blessing.”
“With your mum’s spirit with us, it’s only right that I tell you there’s one title I’m aiming for now,” he said, holding the little box in his hand.
“And what title is that?” she asked, anticipation fizzing through her bloodstream.
A tear trailed down his cheek. “Husband. Will you marry me, Libby Lamb?”
“Yeah, Mibby, we’d very much like to keep you,” Sebastian added, taking a knee next to his dad.
This was more than she’d ever dreamed possible.
But…
As much as she wanted to say yes, there was something she had to do—a leap of faith she needed to take.
She pinned Raz with her gaze. “Are you telling me you’re not going to fight Silas Scott tonight? You’re giving up boxing?”
He nodded. “I’ve got the jet on standby, ready to take the three of us to Moloka’i.” He looked at Sebastian, then turned to her. “Everything I need is right here,” he answered when a shrill voice sliced through the air.
“Erasmus Cress!” shrieked a man with a thick Irish accent. Before she could blink, Silas Scott raced onto the stage, his gold chains slapping his chest as he sprinted toward them. “If you think you’re walking away from this fight, you’re wrong. I’ve trained to beat you. They say you’re the best. I say they’re wrong. I need to beat you in the ring to show the world that I’m the best. I’m the best!” the man squawked.
Sweet karma pie! Someone’s Irish chi was jacked!
“This is not the time, Silas,” Raz said, staring up at the blustering man-baby. Her boxer didn’t radiate an ounce of malice or anger. The man held steady.
But that didn’t mean that she had to.
A deviously delicious thought crystallized in her mind. She slapped on a million-dollar grin and beamed at the blond buffoon. “Hello, Silas, so nice to see you again. How about a Pun-chi yoga demonstration?”
“What?” The fuming boxer looked ready to explode.
“Plum,” Raz cautioned with the sly beefcake ghost of a grin.
“I’ve got a move that will do wonders for your tiny, tiny chakras. Observe the donkey pose,” she said, positioning herself in front of the man, then hinging forward. She lifted one leg and gave a sharp donkey pop of a kick. Like with Derrick the douchebag, her heel made contact.
“Ooh!” the crowd lamented in unison. Even the astronauts on the International Space Station winced.
She glanced over her shoulder as the Snake recoiled. “Ain’t karma a bitch?” she mused sweetly as Silas staggered back, holding his Rocky Mountain oysters.
“Mate,” Raz said with a shrug. “You’re supposed to bob and weave to avoid getting clocked in your naughty bits.”
“Any boxer worth his salt knows that,” Sebastian called as Silas staggered off the stage.
“Wham, bam, don’t mess with Libby Lamb,” he said, coming to his feet.
This man was ready to give up boxing for her, prepared to fly off to an island paradise and leave it all behind. But she couldn’t let him do that.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I need to say something to you, beefcake.”
He nodded, love, so much love and adoration swimming in his gaze.
“We’ve set limits on ourselves, on who we can love, and how we can love,” she began. “We’re not doing that anymore. We don’t have to sacrifice one for another. We’re stronger than that because we’re stronger together. The three of us—the power of three. This is our balance. This is our love, our light,” she said, reaching out and bringing Sebastian into their embrace.
She blinked back tears. “We make our own rules, and I’ll agree to marry you on one condition.”
“Name it, plum,” he said as their indigo aura shimmered around them.
“Your fights are my fights, Erasmus Cress. You’re going to fight Silas Scott tonight. You’ll go into the ring with my love, with Sebastian’s love, with our friends’ and families’ love, and with Meredith’s love. Especially with Meredith’s love. Love never leaves us. Once given, that energy is always with us. And no matter the outcome, no matter who comes out on top, when the final bell chimes, you leave that ring a winner. I believe in you. I love you. So, what’ll it be?”
This was love. This was not compromising, not limiting, not shielding, and not holding back. This man, her beefcake, was ready to walk away from the ring for her, and she couldn’t allow him to do that.
“That’s an easy one to answer, plum,” he said, their indigo aura intensifying. “I promise to enter and leave that ring the same grateful man I am now.” He dropped back to his knee with his son by his side. “Libby Lamb, will you take on these infuriating Cress men and be ours forever and for always?” he asked, then opened the box.
She pressed her hand to her heart as he removed a ring—a beautiful, glinting aquamarine stone with a diamond on each side. Three stones, three lives, three pasts, three presents, and three futures, bound together.
“Yes,” she answered, the luckiest vibrator-wielding gal on the planet, as Raz slid the ring onto her finger.
The crowd cheered, clapping and whooping. Raz came to his feet and gathered her into his arms.
“Is this the kissing part?” Sebastian asked.
“Yep, get ready for a lot of that,” Phoebe called from Rowen’s shoulders.
“Let’s get to it,” Raz said, his gaze welling with adoration. He cupped her face in his hand and tenderly lifted her chin. Their lips met, and in that kiss, they sealed a promise that didn’t need to be spoken. A promise that lived in their hearts. A promise that bound their souls. A promise to always fight for each other.