Drop Dead Beauty (23 page)

Petrovich panicked and disappeared, but there was no fading, and no shimmer, so Sadie knew he’d be back—just like he’d kept coming back and forth for the last week. Eventually he’d be ready to move on and she would be ready and able to help him.

Sadie walked into the living room, sat on the sofa next to Zack, and put her feet up on the coffee table.

“Is it done?” he asked.

“No. He panicked,” Sadie told him. “But he’ll be back.”

“So you’ll just live with him in your place until he’s ready to move on?” Zack asked.

“Yes. Are you okay with all this?”

She slid closer to him on the sofa and winced as she tried to get comfortable without hurting her sore rear end.

“Because this is me. This is my life. I’m always going to either have a pain in the ass, or be one. And before long there’ll be more than just me.” She rested her hand across her stomach. “So if you need to hightail it out of here and never look back, I’ll try and understand. I’ll be okay.”

Zack turned and lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. “Well, I’m
not
okay with that,” he told her firmly, and then he continued formally, “I, Zack Bowman, hereby take you, Sadie Novak, to be my wife forever and for always. In sickness and in health. With ghosts to dust up and move on and with a baby. . . .” He put his hand on her stomach. “The complete package. I take it all.”

Zack kissed her slowly, deeply, and thoroughly. Sadie felt the heat of pure joy well up in her chest.

As they kissed, she opened one eye and regarded Dean Petrovich’s ghost watching them from across the room.

Sadie closed her eyes and kissed some more.

Ghosts could wait.

They always did.

Wendy Roberts
is an armchair sleuth and a fan of all things mysterious. She lives in Surrey, British Columbia, with four teens and a tenacious terrier. She is hard at work on her next novel. You can visit her on the web at www.wendyroberts.com and follow her on Twitter @authorwendy.