“Every breath I’ve taken since then has either been filled with your scent in my lungs or my longing for it to be there.” He pulled her hands to his lips. “Let me into your life and let me light it up the way you’ve brightened mine. You’ve led me out of the darkness, and I promise to be here for you.
Forever.”
“Oh, Andrew.” Warm tears rolled down her cheeks by the time he got to the question.
“Gwendolyn Mallory, will you marry me?”
She straddled his bent knee, so their lips were even. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”
“Why three yeses?” He took a bundle of hair into his grasp for a hearty breath of her scent.
“Just putting some answers in the bank for other questions you may have for me...later,” she whispered in his ear.
“Okay, then.” Andrew lifted her up so he could stand. “Can I have your ring please?”
She smiled and handed him the blue box.
With it nestled in his hands, he said, “This stone has been in my family a long time and...what?”
“Your mother kind of told me where it came from.”
“Of course, she did.” But he smiled. “What’s most important is that now it’s yours, Gwen. And you are mine.” He placed the teal blue box into her hand.
With shaking fingers, she began unraveling everything. Past each layer, the ribbon then the box, she found another box, a dark blue velvet cube.
“Open it,” Andrew whispered, leaning against her.
A gentle popping sound from the top flipping open surprised her. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. “It’s a sapphire?”
“No. It’s a diamond. A blue diamond. They’re very rare. But the color, it matches your eyes.”
Andrew slid the ring out from the indentation.
His grandmother’s classic round stone had been set into a circle of accent diamonds creating a halo effect. “Andrew, this is overwhelming.”
Sliding it on her finger, he said, “Appropriate, since you’ve completely overwhelmed me, Gwen.”
With their fingers in a tangle, she noticed the bruises again. “What did happen to your hand?”
“I kind of punched Salvatore in the mouth.”
Slapping his chest, she cried out, “And I missed that?”
He chuckled. “Trust me. It was intense. I’m glad you weren’t here. I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me act like that.”
“I’m in love with every version of you. Even the manly and protective guy.”
“I’ve got a lot to lose now. I’ll be keeping my hands to myself.” He touched her stomach. “Not from you of course.”
Gwen took a deep breath and rested her head on his chest. “So, the riddle is supposed to go: Gwen and Andrew sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes—”
Andrew lifted her chin and placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. Breathing her in, he whispered,
“Yeah, we got this way out of order.”
Are Gwen and Andrew having a boy or a girl?
Find out how to get exclusive access to the
bonus epilogue after the Greg and Faith teaser below.
Will Greg and Faith get out of their own way?
How long does it take to get over being left at the altar?
Greg Mallory hasn’t figured that out yet. But his runaway bride, Faith Copeland, is back in town.
Greg wants one thing: Answers.
Faith needs one thing: Redemption.
Small town love always wants a second chance.
Grab Must Have Faith today!
Start reading a free preview included here!
2020 UPDATE:
As of May 1st, this series has been renamed The Mallory Family. If you’re not done reading the series, you haven’t missed out on anything. The books are exactly same and they all still take place in Darling Cove.
Must Have Faith
Book Two in The Mallory Family series
THE Mute-On button blinked, and blinked again.
Faith Copeland stared at her video monitor while her fingers lingered over the keyboard. A tremor settled into her right hand, paralyzing her.
Smoke filled the screen as she helplessly watched her field reporters in Iraq shift in and out of focus. Adding the sound would send her into a full-blown panic. Remembering. There was no way she’d put this on live television, either.
She grabbed a pen and scribbled out the long division formula she used to lower her heart rate.
Focusing on complicated math calmed her.
Blowing rapid puffs of air from her tightened lips, Faith mumbled, “Twenty-four goes into seven hundred and sixty. Carry the four.”
“Yo, boss-lady.” Lily Matthews, the assistant producer, rushed in her office. “The Mobile One team’s gone offline. My satellites can’t find them. Where’s Kit and Mobile Two?”
Faith slammed her keyboard to unmute her screen and braced herself when she heard the screams, crackling explosions, and finally the heavy panting of Mobile Two’s lead reporter, Kit Harper.
Emotionless, Faith answered, “They’re wedged between two tanks.” She’d watched them duck for cover right after bombs exploded all around them a few minutes ago.
Faith was tucked away in her windowless office in the middle of Manhattan, but she’d been on that battlefield, and watching from a safe distance on a monitor didn’t make her feel secure at the moment.
“I’ll get the D.C. production team to run their satellites and hopefully find Mobile One.” Lily adjusted her headset and began barking commands.
Carter Holden, the stage director, knocked into Lily and held her against his chest for a moment until the AP slid away smiling. “Can we get anything out of Mobile Two for tonight’s show, Faith?”
he asked.
“Kit,” Faith spoke into her microphone still fixated on the monitor. “Harper, are you there?”
“Bloody hell, Copeland! Do you hear the bombs?” His annoying cockney accent was music to her worried ears.
Hearing the strength in his voice, Faith nodded to Carter. “Kit, we need your report with all that smoke and mayhem in the background. Do you copy? I expect a package uploaded immediately.
Mobile One’s not reporting.” Gone dark. Not a good sign.
“Great. This is my moment?” Kit asked wryly.
“You volunteered to go to Iraq,” Faith reminded him.
“And considering you came back a messy puddle of goo, that should have been a hint.”
Faith gave a hard swallow, pushing fear down into her gut. The three years she’d spent in the Middle East as a photojournalist rewarded her with a Time Magazine cover and her executive producer position at CNN. But a hostage situation a year later had melted into a vicious, bloody massacre and had left her with emotional scars she couldn’t seem to shake.
Like the British reporter currently hiding and fearing for his life, she too had volunteered for that assignment. “Faith?” Kit called out to her.
“Yeah, I think goo is a little bit of an exaggeration.” She gazed at the monitor and Kit’s dark tired eyes, messed up hair, and a familiar icy look of fear. “Thirty minutes. I want to see your report. It better be a hell of a package. New York, out.”