“I’d be second-rate.”

“Oh, Zane, you’re so hard on yourself.”

“I’d never be good enough, that’s just how it is. And I couldn’t take not being good enough.”

It hurt, more than he could tell her, to think of it.

“I have to put it away. I’ve thought about other things. You know they expected me to be a doctor.”

“It’s not about what they expected, ever again. It’s about what you want. And what you want, Zane, I’m going to want for you.”

“I don’t want to be a doctor. I wondered about other stuff, but nothing really hit.”

“You don’t have to decide. College is about exploration, too.”

“But I did decide. I … I want to go to law school. First you have to get the BA, and that takes like two and a half to four years, then it’s law school, and that’s another three.”

She sat back, studying him—very carefully. “You want to study law, be a lawyer?”

“Yeah.” And now that he’d said it, it was real. “I want to try. English and history are my best things, and that’s a good foundation for it. I took that political science deal, and I was okay there. UVA—University of Virginia—it’s in Charlottesville. That’s only about three hundred and fifty miles away, so I could come home for stuff. And it’s a good school for the foundation again. If I can get in.”

“You’ve spent some time on this,” she acknowledged.

“I needed to find out if I could make it work.”

“First thing.” She lifted her fingers, tapped them at her eyes. “Look right here. Is it what you want? Nothing else but that. What you want.”

Man, he loved her, because he knew, bottom line, she meant just that. What he wanted.

“It really is. I mean, it’s what I want to try. I want to be a prosecutor. I thought about cop, but it doesn’t feel right. This does.”

“Zane, this is great.” Because he looked in her eyes, he saw the glimmer of tears. “You’ll be great. A lawyer. My granddaddy was a lawyer. Town lawyer right here in Lakeview.”

“Yeah, I guess I knew. There are a lot of scholarships I can try for, and I can get a part-time job now to start saving. Then there are student loans and all that. And I can work in college. It could take seven years, then I’d have to pass the bar. Sometimes you can get a clerkship, like with a firm or a judge, and if I can work summer courses or programs, I can maybe cut it down a year. Still—”

“Let’s backtrack.” Leaning forward, she brushed at the hair he’d let grow out. Dark as her own, it curled a bit around his face, over his collar. “Are you under the impression you have to pay for your education?”

“They’re never going to turn over the college fund, and I don’t want their money, even if we could make them. I can’t take money from you. I just can’t.”

Now she sat back, crossed her arms. “You think you can stop me from helping you?”

“You help me every day.”

She uncrossed her arms, took his face in her hands. “You need to stop worrying about this. Your grandparents already intend to pay for college for you and Britt.” She shot up a finger to stop him before he could object. “That’s what family does. We didn’t tell you because it felt like pressure. What if you decided not to go to college, or take a gap year, or go to trade school? Now you’ve decided what you want. You’ll call them, tell them. And you’ll thank them.”

She sat back again. “That said, I’m not saying you shouldn’t work, pay some of your expenses. That’s responsibility. You can work for me like you did over the summer, or do something else. As long as it doesn’t interfere with school.”

“It could take seven years. It could cost—”

She tapped a finger on his lips. “Stop. It’s loving and generous of them, and that you’ll remember. They not only can afford to do it, but part of them needs to. You’ll let them, you’ll give this to them.”

Then she laughed. “Zane Walker, Es-freaking-squire. I love it!” She grabbed hold of him, hugged. “Let’s make dumplings.”

She started to jump up, wobbled, had to grip the counter as she went pale, swayed.

So Zane jumped. “Sit down. Are you okay? Jesus. Emily.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Just got up too fast. Woof.” She sat down, put her head between her knees.

“Something’s wrong.” He patted her back, then rushed to get her a glass of water. “You’re sick. I’ll call Lee.”

“I’m not sick.” But her voice was thin and muffled. “Just give me a second.”

He set the water down, stroked her back, her hair. “I’m calling Lee.”

“Lee already knows.”

As the bottom dropped out of his world, he started to crouch down, but she straightened up—slowly. Her color had come back—thank God. She blew out a breath, then another, picked up the water for a few sips. “Better. Okay, well, you told me your thing, so I guess now I’ll tell you mine.”

He braced himself for the worst, the very worst as she lifted the top of the laptop, woke it up. She turned the screen toward him.

“Nine weeks … Pregnant? Pregnant.”

She let out a laugh, a whole roll of happy as his gaze automatically went to her belly. “I’m not showing yet. But I’m starting to have trouble buttoning my jeans.”

“You’re pregnant.” He couldn’t quite get the concept into his head, his body.

“We were going to wait a couple more weeks to tell you and Britt, but hey, you caught me. I found out about a month before the wedding. Surprise!” That laugh rolled out again. “We were going to try, you know, never expected it would happen so fast.”

“You’re really happy.”

“Are you kidding? We’re flying! It’s been hard not to tell you—tell everyone. Friends, neighbors, total strangers. But we wanted to give you and Britt more time to settle in, school starting and all that. And to give this one a little more time to settle in, too.” She laid a hand on her belly. “I get a little light-headed—that’s normal. No morning sickness, which is nice. Are you okay with this?”

He had to sit down himself. “Britt and I can start doing more stuff. Around the house, the bungalows. And you can sit here, okay, and tell me how to make the dumplings. Just sit while I do it. That’s my cousin. You’re going to have my cousin.”

“Another normal,” she told him as tears spilled. “I got teary this morning when Lee said he’d pick up Britt after play practice.”

“You really love him.”

“I really do.”

“Lee and Dave? They’re the best men I know.”

“Oh, there I go again.” This time she dug in her pocket for a tissue. “Tell you what, before dumplings, let’s call Grams and Pop. We’ll give them a double dose of good news—yours and mine. I can have a good cry before I show you how we make dumplings in our house.”

“Good deal. Emily?” His grin stretched ear to ear. “This is really cool.”