Paul

Her voice cracked on the last word and he couldn’t stop himself from standing up and pulling her into his arms. “I will always love you.”

She shook in his arms and tears burned his own eyes as she began to sob. “Oh God, Paul, I don’t know how to start. I don’t know how to tell you.”

A thousand terrible thoughts raced through his mind, and his fear continued to grow until he was practically crushing her. “Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

That only made her cry more, so he tucked her into his body, trying to shelter her from the storm of emotions that seemed to be tearing her apart.

They stood together for a long time, Amaya crying and starting to talk, then her words literally being choked off by a sob.

Worried that she was going to completely lose it, he said, “Can you show me instead? Maybe write it down for me?”

“I-I can do better than that.”

Pushing gently out of his arms, she walked across the room to the large coffee table and picked up her tablet. After poking at the screen with an unsteady hand, she clutched the tablet to her chest and slowly made her way towards him. Her eyes were round and glassy with fear and all the color had washed out of her face, except for two hectic spots of red on her cheeks. Paul wanted to run to her, to take her in his arms again, but he allowed her to approach him instead. His own anxiety ramped up and by the time she handed him the tablet, face down, he was pretty sure he might have a heart attack.

“Before you read it,” she murmured, “you need to know that I remember nothing about the attack itself. The last thing I remember is the car I called from the Pick-Me-Up service arriving. I’d gone out with one of my friends for her twenty-first birthday and was way too drunk to drive home. So, I did what anyone else would do. I called for a ride.”

She finally took a step back, her arms wrapped tight around herself as she watched him. “Go ahead.”

The sour taste of adrenaline coated his tongue, and his heart slammed against his ribs as he turned the tablet over. The first thing he noticed was that it was a news article from one of those ‘nightly news magazine’ sites. At the top of the page was the title ‘LA Slasher Dead!’ in big, bold letters above the picture of what looked like a stack of steel shipping containers next to a big metal warehouse. Crime scene tape enclosed the area, and police officers and official looking people were captured milling around in the image. Confused as to what this had to do with Amaya, he began to read the article.

It talked about someone called the LA Slasher, a man who’d been linked to the murder of dozens of young women in the LA and surrounding area. He had a unique and gruesome way of killing the women, and the FBI had been searching for him for months without any breaks. A few pictures of some of the victims were added to the story, and Paul noticed they were all beautiful young woman with dark hair and eyes. The story went on to talk about the FBI finally catching a break on an abduction—how a security camera had caught the serial killer’s last potential victim getting into his red convertible sports car. The woman he’d abducted, Mary Weber, had also managed to send out a distress call on her cell phone before the drugs he’d given her rendered her unconscious.

The next image was of a battered young woman covered with a white sheet on a gurney being wheeled into a waiting ambulance.

Scanning a little more of the article, he looked up at Amaya, confused. “What does this have to do with you?”

Slowly, as if she was moving through tar, Amaya made her way to his side and sat down.

She was shaking again, and he put one arm around her as she pointed to the tablet. “That’s me.”

He glanced down at the image of the unconscious woman on the stretcher. The picture wasn’t clear or close up, but even from a distance that didn’t look like Amaya. Her face was different, her nose more pronounced and her cheeks rounder.

“That’s you? But it doesn’t look like you.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “Plastic surgery, the best money can buy.”

Tossing the tablet to the side, he hauled her into his arms, his mind racing with the implications of what she’d just shared with him. “You...you were one of the serial killer’s victims?”

“Almost,” she choked out. “He...he hurt me a little bit, but the drugs he gave me were so strong I barely remember anything.”

“Jesus-Jesus Christ.” His whole world felt like it was tilting and he clung to the woman in his arms, the thought of anyone harming her making him sick.

“Agent Marquez found me before...well, before.” She took a shuddering breath, her voice thick. “I was lucky. Thirty-five women, maybe more, weren’t.”

She began to cry again and he held her close, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch over them and wrapping her up tight. “Why did you change your face?”

“For Peyton.”

“What?”

“Paul...” Her face crumbled. “Peyton is his daughter.”

“Whose daughter?”

“His.”

It took him a moment, but when he finally figured it out he gasped. “Holy shit.”

“Please, please don’t hate her, Paul, please. I swear, she’s nothing like Donald, she—”

His heart breaking, he put his hand over her mouth, stopping her pleading. “Shhh, honey, I don’t hate her. She had nothing to do with the circumstances of her birth. She’s innocent.”

A fragile hope bloomed on her face, puffy and blotchy from crying. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it.”

“I-I was so afraid you’d hate her.”

“I could never hate Peyton, or you, especially for something you had no control over.” His mind working furiously, he took her hands in his own. “So that’s why you got a new identity, a new face.”

“Yes. I wanted to keep Peyton, there was never a doubt in my mind, but I knew how her life would be if anyone knew the truth of her conception. Can you imagine the media circus that would always be around her, always watching?”

“Yeah, I can. Fuck, I don’t blame you one bit for what you did. I’d do the same to protect my child. What you did...I’m in awe of you, Amaya. I admired what a great mom you before you told me the truth...” He rubbed his thumbs over his skin and made sure she was paying attention, “I think you’re the strongest, smartest, sweetest woman I’ve ever met and I’d be honored to spend the rest of my life calling you my wife.”

“You still want to marry me? Knowing all of that?”

“Yeah. We’ve got some talking to do, but I still want to marry you. I want you and Peyton in my life, forever, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

She stared at him, her gaze searching his face before she flung her arms around him. “I love you.”

He readjusted the blanket around her then reached over and dimmed the lights with his remote. Amaya looked exhausted, her features drawn and tight with worry and pain. Hell, he felt a little emotionally beat up himself. She’d laid some heavy shit on him tonight, and he was having a hard time keeping his cool. Inside he was freaking out, but he made sure he kept his body relaxed as he held her tight. She curled into him, making her body small and tight so he could hug as much of her as possible. When that wasn’t close enough for her liking, she made him lay on his back, the oversized sofa giving him plenty of room to stretch out.

Once he was positioned to her liking, she crawled on top of him and snuggled into him as he held her close. With the top of her head resting near his heart, Paul leaned up to rub his lips against her hair, inhaling her scent. The hint of her perfume and shampoo were still there, but it was mostly just Amya. Her warm, firm body felt so good against his, and he marveled at how small she was compared to his bulk.

With a long, deep sigh, Amaya stretched out and melted into his body. “I can’t believe how good I feel. How much telling you the truth helped.”

“I’m glad you did.” He gave her a gentle squeeze.

She restlessly shifted atop him. “Oh, um, you also need to know that my family isn’t dead. They’re alive.”

Blinking he turned enough so he could see the top of her head. “Really?”

Glancing up at him, she nodded, pain twisting her mouth. “Yeah. I can’t see them anymore, I’ve had to sever all ties with my past life. So I just tell people they’ve passed on. It’s easier that way.”

The amount she’d sacrificed for her daughter humbled her. “There’s no way you can see them?”

“I probably could, but I don’t want to endanger them.”

“How would it endanger them to see their daughter?”

Burrowing into him, she shivered and said, “There are people obsessed with the man who kidnapped me and killed all those women. They’ve elevated him to an almost deity status. If they could find me, they’d come for me. I’m sure of it. And if they ever found out Peyton existed...”

Now he was the one stiffening in fear. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck. So you see why I had to cut all contact with who I used to be.”

“And who were you?”

“I was Mary Weber, a slightly spoiled daughter and typical California girl with an amazing family. I was a yoga instructor, going to school to become a physical therapist. I had a great life, I had lots of friends I’d known since childhood, and I had a bright future. Then, in one instant, everything I worked for vanished.” She snapped her fingers. “My whole world imploded because I fit a serial killer’s victim profile.”

“I remember something about it. Didn’t the car company he worked for get sued and go out of business because their background checks were a joke?”

“Yeah.”

He ran a soothing hand down her back, then began to gently rub her tense muscles. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.”

“I won’t lie, it’s screwed me up for a very long time, but I got Peyton out of it.”

“That’s true.”

“Even when I was having nightmares anytime I closed my eyes, I never once regretted her. From the moment I knew she existed, I felt nothing but love for her. I gave birth to her, not him. I raised her, not him. She is my daughter.”

Paul grabbed her hand and began to massage her palm, something that usually calmed her down. He could sense the emotional storm tearing her apart inside, and it made him feel so damn helpless. Paul wished with all his heart that he could take her pain away, but he knew some burdens couldn’t be shared. Hoping to distract her, Paul brought her hand to his mouth and began to place gentle kisses on her knuckles.

“That little girl is nothing but happiness and light, just like her mom. You both are so good that it shines from you, like the piercing beam of a lighthouse. I’m sure if you go back in anyone’s ancestry, you’ll find some terrible human being that did some horrible things. That doesn’t mean every descendant of theirs became monsters. If that was true, the world would be overrun with them. But it isn’t, the good people far outnumber the bad and you, Amaya, you’re one of the best.”

“Thank you. I was so afraid you wouldn’t like her anymore.”

“Honey, my love isn’t a fickle thing. Though things seem to have gone fast with you, I love you in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s solid. Real. I know you feel it too, otherwise you never would have trusted me with the truth.”

“Thank you—”

“Stop thanking me. I’m the one who should be thanking you. I’ve been so damn lonely, wishing I could find the woman I was meant to share my life with. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, but now that I have, I’m never letting you go. What about you? Are you sure you want to be with me? Really sure?”

“I am, completely. But...” She chewed her lower lip for a moment, making him nervous. “I want a long engagement.”

“Okay. I was going to suggest we get married tomorrow, but we can wait until next week.”

She stared at him in shock, then grinned when winked at her. “Asshole.”

“What kind of wedding do you want?”

“On the beach,” she said right away.

“Summertime?”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t want my guests to have to ride snow mobiles to the reception.”

“That could be fun.”

“No.”

“Awww, come on. Think about it. Matching his and hers ‘Just Married’ snowmobile jackets? You’d probably want to change your wedding gown before we take off, so I’ll make sure your jacket has rhinestones on it.”

Laughing, she swatted at him. “No.”

“Please? We can have it by the lake, then we can go straight to our honeymoon at a beautiful little fishing ice shanty on the water. It won’t be heated, or have plumbing, and the floor will be ice, but who needs electricity when we’d have love to keep us warm? And I can fish for our breakfast without even leaving the honeymoon bed! Perfect.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “You have lost your mind.”

Placing a kiss on her forehead, he grinned. “Lost it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Letting out a long sigh, she closed her eyes as her shoulders slumped. “God, what a night.”

“Truly one for the record books.” He tucked a strand of her newly darkened hair back, admiring the smoothness of her skin. “Think we should change it up a bit though. I don’t want us telling our kids the story of how we got engaged after my skank ex tried to pull her usual bullshit.”

“Our kids?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I know we haven’t discussed it, but if in the future you want to have another, I’m game. Not saying I want five kids like my brother, but having a couple more around would be nice. Peyton would make an amazing big sister and we already know you’re an awesome mom. ‘Sides, we’d make cute babies.”

Leaning her head against his shoulder, she absently stroked the hair on his forearm. “True.”

“And I know Peyton would love a little brother or sister. She plays with her baby dolls all the time.”

“You have noticed that she’s also drawn on them to give them ‘tattoos,’ decapitated a few of her dolls, and shaved one of them bald.”

“Well, there is that. We’ll just have to hide my electric clippers.”

She chuckled, her body shaking slightly against his. “Right.”

He dropped the playful tone of his voice as he leaned back, pulling her with him so she was spread over his body as he stroked her hair. “What about you? Do you want more kids?”

“Yes,” she said right away. “I’ve always wanted a big family with the right man...but I guess you’ll do.”

“Hey, now.” He tickled her lightly as he growled. “Admit it, I’m your dream man.”

She propped herself up on her elbows on his chest so she could look at him with a grin. “Oh yeah, I’ve always dreamed of marrying a guy who can never seem to get his dirty socks into the hamper in the bathroom.”

“I’m getting better about that.”

Rolling her eyes, she put her head back down on his chest. A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of rain beginning to patter against the windows. Outside a brisk wind blew, but inside they were safe and warm. He smoothed his hand up and down her back, pausing now and again to rub out any knots he found in her muscles. She snuggled into him, and a few minutes later her breathing slowed and deepened and she fell asleep. Happiness burned like the sun inside of him as he held her close.

Shit, tonight was a clusterfuck on so many levels, but he felt a deep sense of relief that she’d finally shared her past with him. His happiness dimmed as he thought about all that he’d learned, about the suffering that Amaya had endured. It was hard to believe that the woman sleeping peacefully in his arms was involved in one of the biggest serial killer cases in history, that she’d survived when so many others hadn’t.

Dark, fucked up thoughts invaded his mind as he imagined all the terrible things Amaya had to endure. Not just the assault, but the recovery and dealing with a world that wouldn’t leave her alone. He marveled at her strength, at her courage to abandon everything and everyone she’d ever known in order to keep her daughter safe. She was such a good woman, and he was the luckiest motherfucker on the planet. Kissing the top of her head, he cuddled her close, smiling as she made a grumpy little noise before snuggling into him again.

As he started to drift, he made a vow. Amaya would never be scared again. He’d give her and Peyton an amazing life, and love them until the day he died.