CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thirteen texts and half a dozen phone calls to Nia. All of them unanswered.
In the middle of that, I searched her social media and found the names of friends and past lovers. Methodically, I hunted down their phone numbers and called each one. I even gritted my teeth as I talked to Kyle.
No one has seen her tonight.
Afterward, I spent two hours driving to places I thought she might go. Lorenzo and Guilia haven’t laid eyes on her. Ditto for Bas. The BBB Revue was locked up tight.
Still no sign of Nia.
It’s damn near ten p.m. Anger and panic are carving up my composure. Where the fuck could she be? The waiting. The wondering. They remind me too much of that fucking April afternoon I never saw Becca again. That time, I hadn’t known anything was wrong until the police arrived at my office. Her death disordered my world.
Losing Nia would destroy me.
Terrified, I grip the steering wheel with one hand and begin dialing police stations with the other, barking questions and damn near biting people’s heads off.
If—no, when—I catch up with Nia, I’m putting a tracker on her car, her phone, and anywhere else I can think of. I can’t believe she fucking walked out of the house and left me. Is she trying to say we’re through? No. It can’t be over. I won’t let it be, not unless she says that to my face. Even then, I intend to do everything in my power to persuade her to stay in my life. I’ll beg her to marry me. Hell, I’ll skywrite my proposal.
Will you tell her you love her?
Do I? I’m starting to have suspicions, but how am I supposed to know for sure? Even if I’ve totally fallen, would she believe me if I said the words now?
Just in case she went to my penthouse, I stop there. The minute I walk in the door, I know the unit is empty. Not only is no one inside, but it’s devoid of emotion. It always has been. After spending time with Nia, I comprehend that.
I lived under this roof for three years. Becca and I rarely smiled or laughed here. We never argued here. We hardly had sex here, either. We didn’t share passion. We didn’t share hopes. We shared hours. We shared space. We shared money.
That wasn’t a marriage.
Jesus, I didn’t love her.
I’ll have to call Bas later and tell him he was right. He’ll enjoy that.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Fresh hope and panic twist around in my gut as I pull the device free. Nia’s name and text flash across my screen. Relief floods my veins.
Sorry I ran out. I had to clear my head. I’ll be home by midnight if you want to talk.
In two hours? I poise my thumbs over the screen, ready to demand she come back now before I pound her with a horde of questions. Where have you been? Where are you? How are you feeling? What are you thinking? But she texted—rather than called—because she wants to avoid answering all that until she’s ready. One thing I’m quickly learning about Nia? Rushing her, no matter how badly I want to, accomplishes nothing.
Finally, I tap back, I’ll be there. And we will talk.
She doesn’t respond, but I see she’s read my message. For now, it will do.
That gives me time to get calm, figure out exactly what I’m going to say. First, I have to find some way—no fucking idea how—to quiet the doubts and demons in my head.
I turn a slow circle around my darkened living room, looking for distraction. I don’t feel like TV. If I go to Nia’s place now, I’ll spend two hours climbing the walls. I don’t want a drink. I’m not hungry for dinner.
I can think of only one solution.
With ground-eating strides, I make my way to my bedroom and drag out a half-finished canvas from under my bed. In less than ten minutes, I’ve stripped down to a pair of shorts, dragged everything I need into the kitchen, and prepared a palette.
As every light in the place blazes, I stare at the beginnings of a painting I barely remember starting months ago. It’s mechanical, gears and spokes turning in circles, working together for a common purpose. The dominant colors are cool grays and blues with a hint of green and rust to depict shadow, wear, and age. It’s competent, not representative of the way I’m feeling now. There’s no sense of barely leashed wildness. Not one brush stroke is out of place. It’s too meticulous and methodical.
I can’t finish it.
After shoving the half-finished piece aside, I retrieve a fresh canvas and set it on my easel. I dip a brush in the paint and stare at the blank white space. What am I bringing to life with pigment? I’ve always been into technical and mechanical themes. Precision and order—that’s how my brain usually works.
Not today. In fact, not since Nia.
Raising the brush, I let it hover over the canvas and close my eyes. The cacophony of shock, worry, and terror begins to quiet. I encourage the monotone hum working its way up through the background of my thoughts. And without looking, I flip the brush across the blank space once, twice, a few more times.
A minute later, I risk a peek. Yeah, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is this a landscape? A portrait? An abstract? So far, it’s a disorganized blob…which is an accurate representation of my current thoughts.
With a disgusted sigh, I set the palette down, clear everything away, and toss my clothes on once more. I don’t know why my steadying, go-to activity still isn’t working. Since I actually put a brush to canvas, I managed more today than any time since Becca’s death. But I miss sinking into the steadying strokes, letting my subconscious take over as my world rights itself once more.
None of that happened tonight. I’m still as confused as ever.
Cursing, I grab my keys and lock the penthouse behind me, ridiculously eager to be away from here. In fact, when I move to Maui, I might sell this place after all. It’s not logical. It may cost me money in the long run since the value of this unit will only increase over time. But there’s nothing here I want to revisit. There’s no reason for me to return.
Wondering when I stopped being so practical, I head to Nia’s. The house is still dark when I walk in.
Thankfully, she’s only a few minutes behind me. When she finally steps through the front door, I’m desperate to hold her. Fuck, she looks tired. She’s clearly been crying.
I tear across the room toward Nia. Her expression turns resolute as she raises a hand between us to stop me. “Don’t. I have to say this without being clouded by your nearness.”
Though the distance she’s putting between us makes me anxious, I do my best to respect it. “I’m listening. But before you say anything, remember that I wanted to marry you before you found out you were pregnant. I still do. Don’t think for one instant that me being your boss, the size of our bank accounts, or the different colors of our skin changes anything for me.”
“I know you mean that. I’m sorry if I upset you. That was my insecurity talking. It wasn’t fair to lump you in with my father.” Nia slowly drops her hand to her side. “I’ve been driving around, thinking. I went by the house I grew up in. I visited my mother’s grave. I even went to the office after hours. Finally, I came to some conclusions. A baby changes everything. We both grew up in homes that weren’t picture-perfect. I don’t want that for my child.”
What is she saying? Why is my chest buckling, my throat tightening? “I don’t, either.”
“Some people may call my decision old-fashioned, but they don’t have to live with it. I do. And I believe this baby will be better off with two parents.”
“Ones who have the same last name and live in the same house.” I want to be clear about my expectations.
She nods. “Yes. The practical choice is to get married.”
Part of me rejoices. I’ve won; I’ve got her. But another part bleeds. I cheated my way into her future. Not intentionally. I hardly set out to get her pregnant in the hopes she’d marry me. Yet I hate the resignation on her face. She’s not making this decision lightly—or happily. She wants love. She wants the romantic fairy tale. That’s not what she’s getting, and I don’t know if I can ever give it to her. I respect her too much to lie now and hope it will be true later.
My one consolation? I’m prepared to make our engagement official.
From my pants, I pull out the box containing the engagement ring I bought before Thanksgiving. I lift the lid and extract the diamond from the cushion. Then I take her hand, surprised to find my fingers shaking. “This may not be the circumstance you wanted when you said yes, but I swear I’ll do everything I can to make you happy and—”
“It’s not about me and my heart anymore. Or even our feelings.” She slides a palm over her still-flat stomach. “It’s about the life we made together.”
After being with Nia these past few weeks, I’ve felt the passion and connection Becca and I lacked. I won’t have another gray, void marriage.
“It should be about us, as well.”
“I can’t think about that right now. I have a responsibility to this child. All my life, my mother put me first. She’s not here anymore for me to thank, but I’m a better person for her love. I intend to give our baby the same kind of devotion.”
It’s admirable, commendable. I’m sure Nia will shower our child with all the love he or she could ever want. But I’m not thinking about a being that’s the size of a seed right now. I’m thinking about the woman standing in front of me, cheeks stained with silver paths, whom I plan to speak vows to and spend my life with.
“Of course.” I slide the ring on her finger, gratified when it fits perfectly.
The sparkle of the diamond is a striking contrast with her rich brown skin. Every man will see the stamp of my possession. I’ve never been the caveman sort, but Nia is nearly mine in every sense of the word. This isn’t a joyous occasion for her, but I have to swallow down the urge to whoop and beat my chest.
Until she speaks.
“Can you do that?” Nia questions. “Less than a week ago, you said you didn’t want children. You couldn’t even hold Trace’s son. I wrestled all day about whether it was selfish to marry you when you’re not sure you ever want kids. I nearly decided that if my mother could raise a daughter alone, I could do the same with my baby—”
“No. That’s my baby, too.” I already lost one this year. I’m not losing another.
She anchors her hands on her hips. “How are you going to handle it?”
Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t feel any more ready to be a father than I was last Thursday. I’m terrified as hell of Nia being pregnant, of fathering another child who may never be born. But here we are, and bowing to fear will only hurt us all.
“I just will.”
“All right.” Finally, she looks down at the ring on her finger and swallows. “It’s really beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that when you gave it to me the first time.”
I squeeze her hand. “It looks perfect on you.”
The smile she gives me doesn’t convey happiness. “If we’re going to get married, I’d like to do this quickly.”
“Absolutely. Do you mind if we get married in Maui? Maxon and Keeley’s place is perfect for weddings. The Reed clan is all the family I have, and I don’t know if they can travel here—”
“The wives are all too pregnant to come to Seattle now. A wedding in Hawaii would be nice.” She tries to muster enthusiasm. “I only have a few people to invite. Lorenzo and Guilia. Some girlfriends. My second cousin Annabelle. Remember me telling you about her? The one who lives in New Orleans with her three guys?”
Vaguely, but if she wants them at our wedding… “Sure. I’ll call Britta. She’s the organizer. All three of my siblings have put together quick weddings, so they’re pros. Britta’s mom caters. Keeley works really closely with a great florist and photographer. Harlow is clever. It’ll come together.”
She nods absently. “I’ll figure out a dress.”
Becca always wanted something elaborate, and at the time we married, the money simply wasn’t there. I don’t want Nia to regret anything else about her decision to marry me.
I grab her shoulders. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re only getting married once, and that’s to me. So whatever dress will make you happy, I want you to have it.”
“I don’t need anything extravagant.”
“But what do you want? Whatever that is, I’ll give it to you.”
Normally, I’d grit my teeth about the impractical pomp of weddings and stew about how illogical it is to spend thousands of dollars to speak a few words in front of some people simply so we can become man and wife. But until the baby, Nia wasn’t even sure she wanted to marry me. I’ve forever changed her life with one rash decision made in a haze of possessive anger and lust. How can I not give her the small consolation of the wedding of her dreams?
“You don’t have to do that, Evan. I don’t mind keeping it small and simple.”
Suddenly, I mind. “Our ceremony should be memorable, not expedient.”
She sighs. I don’t know whether she’s conceding my point or simply too tired to argue. “You’ll be having a prenuptial agreement drawn up, I suppose?”
It’s illogical but I instantly resent her suggestion, like she’s already concerned about our divorce before we’re even married. Still, my practical side kicks in. “Yes, but let’s not worry about it now. Shouldn’t we…” Break open a bottle of champagne and toast? No, we can’t do that since she’s pregnant. “Celebrate somehow? We’re engaged.”
Nia looks at me for a long moment. “I don’t feel like celebrating, Evan. I feel like going to bed. I’m tired.”
It’s been a day full of shock and exhaustion—for both of us. A few earlier searches on my phone informed me that her hormones are probably raging, and it’s not uncommon for her to feel exhausted. But knowing that doesn’t help. We’re planning to spend our lives together, yet I’ve never felt further apart from her.
When she makes her way down the hall, I follow, gripping her arm to stop her when we reach the bedroom. “You’re unhappy, and it’s…hurting me.”
She turns with a little furrow between her brows. “I didn’t plan this. You didn’t, either. I thought I knew where my life was going. But…” She pauses. “I’m happy about the baby. I’ve always wanted kids. I’m just sad because I wanted them with someone who would love me for the rest of my life.”
Her words stab me in the chest.
“Please understand. I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty,” she carries on. “You can’t help how you feel any more than I can. I know you’re not ready to fall in love again and—”
“I never loved Becca. I realized that today.”
Nia rears back, searches my face, then cups my cheek. “And you’re confused?”
“Incredibly. But I know that for sure.”
She looks stunned. “What are you saying?”
I’m not sure she believes me. Why should she when it took me years to realize something that’s been staring me in the face? “You’ve changed me somehow. Made me look at everything differently.”
“Or you’ve just gotten used to something new.” She shrugs. “I’m not even sure it matters.”
Then she eases free from my grip and heads for the shower, peeling her clothes off along the way. It’s not seductive. It’s automatic, as if I’m not even here. As if I’m not important at all.
That fucking hurts. Nia never doesn’t want to talk. She’s never not wanted to be with me.
Tonight, I might as well be invisible.
I sit back on the bed and watch her close the door between us. Everything inside me tells me to storm in there, strip down and climb in the shower with her, then grab her tight and kiss her until she melts against me. Until she curls herself around me.
I don’t. It goes against everything inside me to sit idle, but I do.
When she emerges ten minutes later, she’s wearing a cotton nightgown in a soft pink shade, trimmed in lace. Her face is clean, but her eyes are swollen. She’s been crying again. Her ring finger is bare.
Fury swells. Not at her. At myself. She’s bitterly disappointed, and I don’t know to ease her. I fucking hate how impotent that makes me feel. If I could to go back in time and undo that night—No. I still wouldn’t. I didn’t expect any of this. Sure, I’d hoped I would be getting married, but to someone who roused only easy companionship, not a woman who makes me want her until I can’t breathe. I certainly never imagined I’d be expecting a child again.
But I wouldn’t change anything. I only want to move forward.
Nia climbs into bed and turns off the light, then rolls away from me. I ease down beside her. I may not know exactly what to do, but I know she needs my comfort.
When I wrap an arm around her, she stiffens. I don’t relent, just press a kiss to her shoulder and wait. Slowly, she relaxes, her breathing evening out as she falls asleep in my arms.
I lie awake for hours, feeling her warmth against me, wondering how and when I’ll figure out a way to make her happy for the rest of our lives.
Maui, Hawaii
Saturday, December 9
Eleven days later, the day of our wedding dawns. It should be one of the happiest days of our lives. Instead, I’ve never seen Nia more withdrawn, as if she’s preparing to walk to the hangman’s noose, not the altar. Every time I look at her face, I see second thoughts and regrets. I can’t stand it. And I can’t marry her like this. She might have said yes, but I know damn well she answered me under duress.
It’s stupid-early when I knock on Maxon and Keeley’s door. It takes a good two minutes before my oldest brother opens with a yawn. “What’s up? You’re about eight hours early for the wedding, bro.”
“I need to see Nia.”
The gravity in my voice halts his stretch. “You okay? I didn’t want to say anything, but you guys haven’t seemed the same since you arrived.”
How do I answer that? “I don’t know what to think.”
“Want to talk?”
“About how I feel?” I toss my hands in the air. “I can’t answer that. Is shitty an emotion?”
Maxon grabs me by the arm and leads me into the kitchen. “You’ve got Reed genes, so yeah. I feel you. Coffee?”
“Please.”
He prepares the single-cup brewer, then glances at me over his shoulder. “You have cold feet? Worried you two won’t last?”
“No.” With everything between us tense and uncertain, I probably should be. She’s been closed off since she learned about the baby. I haven’t wanted to push her. But my gut still tells me this is the right move. “She wants a father for our child. I…”
My brother stares at me as coffee drips and I grapple for words. I could explain that I’m loyal and I keep my promises but what’s happening between us is more than that.
“I want to be with her.” That’s the best way I know how to put it.
Handing me a cup of steaming brew, Maxon nods and opens his mouth to speak.
It’s interrupted by another knock at the door.
“Grab that. Will you?”
Wondering who the hell else could be here at the ass crack of dawn, I yank the door open again, stunned to find Bas and Griff. “What are you doing here?”
When I step back, they enter.
Griff slaps me on the back. “Thought I’d come by. Britta was having contractions earlier. For a while, I suspected we’d be having a baby and a wedding today. But it was false labor. It stopped about two hours ago. I came over because Noah called me and said he saw you leave his place at oh-dark-thirty. I picked up Sebastian along the way.”
I nod. “I just, um…”
“Needs his head screwed on straight,” Maxon supplies. “Before you knocked, Evan was explaining that he doesn’t know how he feels about Nia. He’s both male and a Reed, so naturally he has his head up his ass.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. Welcome to the family,” Griff drawls, then regards me with a slap on the shoulder. “It took three years and almost losing Britta for me to tell her I love her.”
“I was faster with Keeley, but it was…messy.” Maxon winces.
“How did you know?”
“My feelings?” Griff asks, then shrugs. “Process of elimination. Do you feel miserable without Nia?”
“Yes.”
“Does it get under your skin and make you panic a little when she’s angry or not speaking to you?”
The last week and a half has been anxiety-ridden and gut churning. “Yes.”
“Does it bug the shit out of you when another guy so much as glances at her?”
“A lot.” Even thinking about her exes and all the ways they’ve touched her makes me want to punch them all.
“Do you want her more than any woman you’ve ever known?”
From the first moment I saw her as something more than my assistant. “Yes.”
“Have you ever felt this way before?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know I could.”
Bas tsks at me as Maxon hands him coffee. “Dude, you’re in love.” He looks at my brothers. “I’ve been telling him this for a while.”
He was right about the fact I didn’t love Becca. Maybe he’s right about this, too.
Maxon points at Sebastian. “See? I rest my case. You, my brother, just need to believe. You need to take that leap of faith.”
“What he said,” Griff puts in.
They make it sound so easy…
“What’s going on, guys?” Keeley steps into the room, wrapped in a silky, pale robe, belted around the swelling of her belly. “Did you decide you wanted a bachelor party after all, Evan? I have to say, six a.m. is a pretty interesting time…”
Nia will look that pregnant come summer. I did some calculating. Our baby will be born late in July. We have our first appointment with a new obstetrician while we’re on the island. We haven’t talked about the fact that we’re moving here, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a done deal.
“We’re just convincing Evan that he’s head over heels for his bride-to-be,” Maxon quips.
Keeley frowns and blinks. “Of course. I mean, something has been troubling you both since you got here, and I guess neither of you were expecting to have a baby so soon. But I’ve known since you two came for Thanksgiving that you’re mad for each other.”
Head reeling, I set my coffee down and leave the men behind. Maxon’s wife knew, too? Before I even suspected?
I take Keeley aside. “How’s Nia?”
She stayed here the night before the wedding since everyone insists it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony. I think that’s a foolish, antiquated notion, but Nia agreed with the superstition, so I acquiesced. I haven’t seen her in almost twelve hours. She looked particularly pensive last night. I’ve been awake for hours, worrying she’ll wake up this morning and tell me she’s changed her mind.
“She seemed happy that everything is ready. Britta’s mom finished the food last night. The florist will be here at eleven to drop off all the bouquets and arrangements. Lono will be here a little after one, a good hour before he performs the ceremony. The photographer will show up about the same time. The seamstress finished the alterations for Nia’s dress and we picked it up. Thankfully, she found one off the rack that fit her almost perfectly. Otherwise—”
“That’s not what I asked. How is she?”
Keeley takes a long time answering. “Nervous.”
“Hesitant.”
Maxon’s wife pauses even longer before she nods. “But she loves you.”
Right. The problem is, she thinks I don’t love her. I may not know what love is, but I know what it isn’t. I know that, since being with her, I’ve become full of nonsensical notions and something else I can’t explain: feelings. Even though they have no basis in logic, I can no longer deny them. They exist.
In the background, my brothers and Bas rib each other about something. I focus on my racing thoughts and pounding heart. “I need to see her.”
For a moment, Keeley looks as if she’s going to object, then she presses her lips together and gives me a decisive nod. “Follow me.”
As she leads me through the kitchen, pausing to accept a soft kiss from her husband, I follow.
“Evan?” Bas asks.
“Where you going?” Griff calls out.
Maxon follows up. “What are you doing?”
I raise my hand and wave them off. “I think…I’m leaping.”
Behind me, they celebrate and immediately start arguing about who was right first. I don’t care. I’m focused on Nia as I trail Keeley behind their bed and breakfast, toward the private ohana they’ve recently renovated into a suite.
We creep through the humid predawn and dewy grass until we reach the beachy blue door.
Keeley knocks. “Nia?”
A minute later, my bride opens with a sleepy yawn. Her face closes up the instant she sees me. “Evan?”
“I need to talk to you.”
Something I don’t like skitters across her face. “Come in.”
“You two going to be okay?” Keeley asks, seemingly reluctant to leave us.
Nia doesn’t answer. She’s worried. That I’m here to call it off? Or that she wants to end it and doesn’t know how to tell me?
“We’ll be fine,” I assure my brother’s wife as I nudge her aside and head straight for Nia.
“Call me if you need—”
“Thanks,” I assure Keeley. “I appreciate it. I’ve got it from here.”
Well, I’m trying to. My palms are sweating. My throat begins to clamp tight. I catch sight of Nia’s wedding dress hanging from the bathroom door. I can’t see details since the room is shadowy and the white confection is shrouded by its protective plastic bag. But I’m not here for a sneak peek. I’m here purely to work out everything between me and Nia.
I shut the door and turn to her.
Her heart seems to stop. “What’s wrong?”
Shit. Where do I start? What do I say? “I…”
The sight of a manila folder on her nightstand catches my attention. The prenuptial agreement.
“Did you sign that?” I ask.
If she divorces me in the first ten years of our marriage, all the assets and possessions I brought into the union belong to me. She’ll walk away with nothing but child support. If I end the union at any time, she’s entitled to half of everything. The agreement is practical. My attorney insisted on it.
Right now, I’m finding it distasteful and divisive.
Nia swallows, bristling. “I said I would and I did. Look, if you’re having second thoughts—”
“Not about marrying you, no. About everything you’re thinking? Yes. We need to clear up a few things. First, that document isn’t… That’s not how I feel.”
As I storm across the room and pluck the paper from its folder, she gapes at me. A quick scan assures me she’s signed and dated it, as promised.
“Does this bother you?”
Nia doesn’t answer right away. “I know it shouldn’t.”
“But it does.”
“You’re entitled to protect yourself financially. In fact, you should.”
“If you think that, why does having a prenuptial upset you?”
She fidgets in the shadowy room. “In my head, if we’re building a future and spending the rest of our lives together, talking about the division of assets before we’ve spoken our vows feels like we’ve already given up.”
Exactly. “I’m never going to divorce you. And I don’t believe we’re making a mistake.”
Before she can say another word, I grasp the prenuptial paperwork in my hands and rip it in two.
“What are you doing?” She gapes at me.
I prowl toward her. Nia backs up a step. I come closer. She frowns and retreats again. I lunge for her. Her back hits the wall. I cage her in with a smile.
“Trying to make you happy. We’re going to have a marriage, not a business partnership. I want to be with you. And I trust you, the way I hope you trust me. The only piece of paper we need between us is the one legally declaring us man and wife.”
Nia blinks. “You’re willing to give up your financial protection simply to make a point?”
I gesture to the scraps of legal document. “I already did. For you.”
“Why? You went to a lot of trouble to—”
“Have my attorney draw up the papers quickly? Yes. Now I wish I hadn’t bothered.” I swallow. “Nia, you probably know how I feel better than I do.”
“I don’t.”
“You have no guess?”
She looks away, biting her lip. “I don’t want to be wrong.”
There’s no way she is.
“Do you still love me?”
Her eyes close. “I don’t see how I’ll ever stop.”
Her admission makes something in my chest flip over. My heart. That crazy, cursed, uncontrollable organ slowly rousing like a sleeping giant. It’s frantically thundering between my ears, far louder than my common sense. It’s taking over my brain.
“I’m slow to understand how something non-logical works. You know that. I never meant to hurt you or ruin your life or—”
“You didn’t.” Nia looks almost confused by my statement. “I’ve been worried I ruined yours.”
I cup her face. “Honey, no. You’ve made my life. Nothing would be right without you. Know why?” I shake my head because I can’t wait for her to either guess or demur. “Because I think—no, I know—I love you, too.”
Her breathing stops. Tears fill her eyes. Her fingers try in vain to grip the wall behind her. “You don’t have to tell me what you think I want to hear. I’m going to marry you regardless.”
“No.” I grab her shoulders. “I’m telling you what I’m finally comprehending. What I probably should have figured out a long time ago but was too emotionally numb and disconnected to understand. I. Love. You. If you need me to say it again—”
Tears spill down her cheeks. A sob hitches her chest. “Don’t.”
I’m so confused. “Don’t tell you how I feel?”
“D-don’t lie.”
Her voice sounds small and broken. My heart contracts and thuds again. I actually feel her pain as if it was my own. It’s disconcerting and awful and amazing all at once.
“Never,” I vow. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize what I should have known weeks ago. I think I fell for you the first time I touched you. I just didn’t know.”
She sniffles and finally opens her eyes. Hope, sharp and bright, illuminates her dark eyes. “You’re not just saying that?”
Before she’s even finished, I’m shaking my head. “You know I’m not a liar, just like you know I’m not good at sparing anyone’s feelings. I finally understand what’s in my heart. But if you still don’t believe me, I’ll be happy to repeat it until you do. Preferably while I’m inside you.”
Finally, she laughs through her tears. “I love you so much.”
Gently, I swipe my thumbs across her cheeks to dry them. “I know. And I feel like the worst ass imaginable for putting you through weeks of worrying and wondering and uncertainty.”
“It’s okay. I know you’ve been struggling. I just thought… When I opened the door, I was worried you were coming to tell me you weren’t ready for a baby, so you couldn’t marry me.”
I’m still not entirely sure I’m ready for the fatherhood thing. But Nia and our child are a package deal, and I have months to figure it out.
I lean in, kiss her forehead and the tip of her nose before sliding down to brush the softest buss over her lips. “What do you say we start over? Today marks the beginning of our lives together, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than by getting married to the woman who’s changed my life, my heart, and my future.”
“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Softly, she nods. “Yes. A thousand times yes. See you at the altar at two.”
“Are you kicking me out?” I frown.
“I am. I have a wedding to get ready for.”
“Damn, I thought I was taking you to bed so I could show you how much I love you.”
Now Nia is downright giggling, and it makes my heart feel so light. “Save it for our wedding night, mister.”
A big smile breaks across my face. I feel triumphant, like the time I built a life-size Mars Exploration Rover for the hell of it and made it roam the nearby park. The project was frustrating and took a shitload of time and brainpower. But once I managed, success felt really damn rewarding.
“Oh, I have so many plans for you, my soon-to-be Mrs. Cook.”
She winks. “I’m counting on it.”