Nora held out her arms and Zach stepped into her embrace, lifting her off her feet.

“Hi, handsome,” she said, kissing his cheek. “How much have you missed me?”

“I didn’t realize how much until right now,” he said. She squeezed him harder, held him closer.

“How are you handling all of this?” she asked into her ear.

“Better now that it’s over with,” Zach said. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be here any sooner. Had to work this morning.”

“You could always quit,” she said. “Kingsley set you all up very nicely, I hear.”

“That’s all Fionn’s. And I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I didn’t work. God knows I couldn’t leave you in anyone else’s hands.”

“I can’t take charity, either. Kingsley would have given me a fortune if I’d asked for it. But then I wouldn’t have had much incentive to write the books that have been driving you insane for the past five years, right?”

“Quite so. I hope Fionn finds something that makes him as happy as my work has made me.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s his father’s son—smart, determined, and has a good heart.”

“Took me a while to see it, but I would agree with you about Søren.”

“I meant you,” she said. “He’s your son.”

He kissed her forehead. “Thank you. You always know the right thing to say.”

“You look so hot in your suit I want to drag you out of here and blow you.”

“Case in point.”

Nora laughed and playfully attempted to pull him back into the hallway.

“None of that,” Zach said. “No blowing. Grace and I have sown all the wild oats we intend to ever sow. Back to monogamy.”

“Ugh,” Nora said, shuddering. “Don’t say the M-word around me.”

“Forgive me. When he’s old enough, you can explain the facts of life to Fionn then. I’ll sit in the back with popcorn and watch you attempt to explain to a twelve-year-old boy why his godmother is romantically involved with a Catholic priest and a French vintner. Any why she doesn’t own any horses and yet always has a riding crop with her...”

“I’ll start preparing the Venn diagrams and flow charts for when that blessed day comes. And speaking of my beautiful blond godson...do you have the item I requested?”

“I do. He had his haircut Thursday last. Saved a scrap for you,” he said, pulling an envelope from his pocket to pass to her.

“Perfect.” She took a glass locket from the pocket of her dress and opened it.

“Lovely locket. Where did you get that? Family heirloom?”

“Actually, I ripped it off the neck of an evil dominatrix who Søren sold a lock of his hair to in order to buy me a computer. I gave it back to him, but then I stole it out of his pocket again after we’d fucked in the confessional at our church.”

“That was my second guess.”

The glass locket still contained the lock of Søren’s hair. She added a few strands of Fionn’s to it, shut it and slipped it on her necklace. Now that she and Søren wore their wedding bands, the necklace needed something new on it to go with the pendant from her Nico.

Zach pulled her in front of him and helped her clasp the necklace.

“Now it’s your turn. I gave you something. You give me something. Your autograph please.”

Nora sighed. She’d been waiting for this moment. From the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Zach pulled out a tri-folded bundle of legal documents.

“You sure about this?” she asked, her hands slightly shaking. “You’ve met me, right?”

Zach handed her the documents and an ink pen.

“If something happens to us, Grace and I want you to raise our son. And yes, I’ve met you. That’s why we chose you.” He turned his back to her so she could use him as a desk.

“Last time I signed a piece of paper on your back, it changed my life,” she said. “Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself.”

“Last time you signed a piece of paper on my back, we had sex all night long right afterward,” Zach reminded her.

“Okay, maybe history can repeat itself.”

Nora had to wait for Zach to stop laughing so she could properly sign her name without smearing the ink.

“I promise you, Grace and I have no intention of getting ourselves killed anytime soon. But if we do, Fionn’s yours. Please don’t raise him Catholic.”

“No promises, Easton.”

Nora flipped to the last page and signed her name on the line—Eleanor Schreiber. She folded up the papers that made her guardian of Fionn Easton and his trust fund in the event of his parents’ death and gave them back to Zach. He tucked them back in his pocket and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

It was done.

The comforting weight of Zach’s arms settled around her stomach. The two of them, the outsiders in this little play, held each other tight and watched as Søren, Kingsley, Grace and Fionn chatted about everything and nothing.

“You and I have made some beautiful book babies together, Zach,” Nora said, her throat contracting as Søren brushed his hand over Fionn’s head, smoothing down a wayward strand of baby-soft hair.

Zach snorted. “Book babies? We’re talking about your books. More like Rosemary’s Babies.”

“You mean that as an insult, and yet I’m taking it as a compliment.”

“This does not surprise me.” Zach pulled her closer to him and she relaxed into his arms. “What’s going to happen?” he asked her as they both watched Grace, Kingsley, Søren and Fionn talking.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But you have nothing to worry about. He’d never do anything to hurt you or Grace or Fionn. He’s a good sadist.”

“Will he be all right?”

“He will be. He has me and Kingsley no matter what.”

“You all are a strange little coven, aren’t you?” Zach asked, shaking his head in amusement.

“We prefer the term family. And guess what? You’re in it, too.” She playfully slapped her hand on the center of his chest. He covered it with his own hand before lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “For life.”

Nora leaned against him, took comfort in his warmth, his solidity and their friendship, which had meant so much to her. Søren had Fionn’s tiny hand in his and seemed to be examining his fingers. Long strong fingers. A future pianist’s fingers perhaps? Søren kissed Fionn’s fingers and Nora knew she had never been this happy in her life.

“Will he leave the priesthood?” Zach asked.

“No. But he’s expecting them to kick him out once he tells his provincial about Fionn. He doesn’t feel right keeping Fionn a secret. Me? Kingsley? We knew what we were getting into. A child shouldn’t worry his biological father considered him a dirty little secret.”

“Are you scared? There might be a scandal.”

“My whole life’s a scandal. But no, I’m not scared. He’s been in the Jesuits thirty-four years. I think he’s earned his retirement. What about you? Are you scared?”

“I worry about Fionn, that’s all. He’s my son. And his.”

“And he’s my godson. He has me to thank for his existence, after all. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“So you’re the one I have to blame for my life being turned upside down?”

“My doing,” she said. “I’m the one who sent Grace to Søren. I didn’t know Fionn would be the result but well, Grace saved us all. One new life for our three lives sounds like a good deal to me.” Grace had run her guts out to get to Kingsley in time. If she hadn’t, Nora and Søren would have died and she knew Kingsley was joking when he said he’d last three days in a world without Søren. Giving Grace the child her heart longed for seemed like the least they could do in repayment.

“Then I say thank you. Also...” Zach pointed at her nose. “Don’t do it again.”

Nora started to scold him for being so vanilla, but then she heard her favorite song.

“Do devilishly handsome Jewish book editors dance?”

“Only when asked to by impossibly sexy Catholic writers.”

She took his hand and dragged him away into the not-a-real wedding reception that was still in full swing. All around them people laughed and talked and drank and danced to her favorite song by The Police, the one band she and Søren had ever agreed on. Zach spun her once and pulled her close to him.