Six months later...
Shay…
From the shade of a maple tree at the far edge of the lawn, I took a breather from my dream world to soak it all in.
Balloons in rainbow colors bobbed from ribbons tied to the wraparound railing.
Spiraled crepe paper, draped from post to post, rippled in a slight breeze.
Presents hidden under boisterous wrapping with shiny bows sat in a pile on a side table.
Absolutely no clowns or balloon animals were in attendance: orders from Cade.
All the decorations were for little Oliver’s second birthday, the first party at our house.
A warm presence edged into my awareness.
Ben.
His hands slid over my hips from behind. A gentle kiss pressed to my temple before the soft scruff of his beard trailed down my cheek. Warm breath feathered over the shell of my ear.
“What’re you doing all the way out here, alone?”
I let out a contented sigh and smiled. “Just stealing a moment for myself.”
And as I slid my hands over his, my fingers brushed over both of our wedding rings: his basic gold band, my original platinum-mounted diamond, all we needed.
We’d gotten married on the seventh day of our very first entire week together, in our secret forest clearing. Only three other people had been there with us. The pastor of our local church, and fierce supporter of the homeless, had expressed heartfelt honor to make us legal in the eyes of God. Trin had scoffed when I asked if she’d be a witness, had insisted on being both flower girl and maid of honor. Kiki had taken her role as fairy godmother to heart, adorning me in a gauzy white dress “perfect for a forest bride marrying her prince.” Trin had worn a similar lilac dress with green ribbons hanging from dazzling crystals. We’d both worn botanical woodland crowns in our hair, mine simple baby’s breath, Trin’s made of sprigs of lavender and tiny white roses.
Everyone else understood that we’d eloped, had gone to our own private world to make things official, our way.
Weeks later, Ben had sold the condo, and we’d moved into the upper floor of Helen’s house. But together with Helen, we’d dusted every corner of our dream home with laughter and love.
And an entire half year later, each day was filled with both adventure and generosity. Every night, I pinched myself, unable to believe I got to fall asleep safe and protected in Ben’s arms.
Surrounding us both? A bigger close-knit family than I’d ever imagined.
I’m no longer the girl standing on the fringes, only the observer.
I’ve finally become a part of it all.
“Come on. Let’s dive back into the fray.” I took Ben’s hand and led him across the lawn.
Helen stood beside her latest friends, Chloe and Daniel. When my adoptive grandma had discovered there were bakers in our midst, she’d insisted on weekly visits to Sweet Dreams, the bakery Hannah had founded and Chloe and Daniel now owned. Unfazed by Daniel’s Mohawk, piercings, and dry commentary, she’d become best buds with rockabilly Chloe, and Helen even wore one of her own original dresses from the 50s to the party.
Mase’s girlfriend, Leilani, was able to fly out with him from Hawaii. Darren and his sister, Logan, came with Kiki.
Trin chased around Oliver while Oliver chased Ava, and he squealed with joy every time he captured the German shepherd’s tail. Ava patiently held it still, but kept walking forward, dragging him along.
“It’s how he learned to walk.” Cade folded his arms, overseeing his firstborn from a bench on the porch. “Our ingenious son just grabbed onto her tail and let her do most of the work.”
Ben shot up a raised fist, then pointed at our boy latched on to the dog’s tail. “Uncle Ben taught ’em that. Go Ava ’n Ollie!”
Beside Cade, Hannah rolled her eyes. “His baby sister will be able to take bold steps all on her own.”
Cade startled straight up. “Baby sister?” He dropped a wide-eyed gaze at her very flat stomach.
She shrugged. “Someday.”
He shot her a warning glare, lips pursed. She kissed him soundly.
Victoria and Garrett watched over all of the activity from a shady corner of the porch, proud grandparents. I’d been over to their house dozens of times in the last six months, and they were everything Ben had described and more. They brought me into their fold as true family, becoming the loving parents I had always wanted.
Kristen’s husband Jason leaned back against the happy yellow house, his wife nestled within his arms as they watched the kids play.
I’d invited Rafe to come, but he’d declined. I didn’t ask why, but understood. It was hard for people from my world to handle too much goodness from the other side.
Kendall rushed out the door, jogged down the steps, then waved at everyone. “Gotta go. Meeting a new client.”
Just then, a tan vintage FJ40 Land Cruiser with a white roof nudged up to the curb, nose in.
Mase stood from his lawn chair, whistling low. “Cherry ride!” he called out to the driver who was obscured by shadow and the reflection of the flat windshield.
The only response was a subtle hand wave out the driver’s window.
“Client?” Kiki narrowed her eyes at the rumbling engine. “Can’t he get out of the vehicle?”
Kendall shrugged. “Jax ‘doesn’t do social.’”
Then she stopped in front of Ben and me and gave us both one huge hug. “Awesome party. Love the house.” She eased back and gave me a warm look that glittered with affection. “Welcome to the family.”
“Get you guys drinks?” Mase crossed to the nearby cooler as Kendall disappeared and the FJ drove off.
I nodded. “Cream soda.”
Ben held up a couple of fingers. “Two.”
Mase furrowed his brows. “No beer?”
“No alcohol. Two years sober, and counting.”
I gave Ben’s hand a gentle squeeze. Being sober by choice was something he was proud of, we both were. He’d admitted to me that he had drowned in several bottles of scotch in the days after I’d left him.
But then he saw the truth, realized what was most important in his world, and went after it. Part of that involved never touching alcohol again...except for responsibly serving at his bar, of course.
Something that had kept him going was the hope that he and I weren’t done yet. That we hadn’t broken up; we’d simply taken a pause.
Another mission he’d undertaken? Helping my crew, my people...our people.
“Here ya go, felon.” Mase extended a cream soda bottle toward me.
I arched a brow at him.
“What?” His expression went all innocent. “Too soon?”
I shook my head with a smile and swiped the chilled bottle from him.
Then I casually scoped out his personal-security situation.
Ben gave me a pointed look after he accepted his soda, then chuckled. “Better watch yourself, Mase. Mess with my wife, something’s bound to go missing.”
“I’m not worried. I’ve got my pockets locked down.”
Trin brushed by him. “You sure about that?” She turned and proudly held up a turquoise-and-green wallet like she’d stolen the Olympic torch.
Cade popped up from his bench and jogged down the steps. “Is that Velcro?”
“His crazy vintage surfer wallet,” Leilani explained while shaking her head.
Ben blinked. “Old-man surfer wallet? You stuck in the 80s?”
I shot Trin a chin-up. “What kind of greenbacks does he have to donate? Anything good?”
Mase let out a defeated sigh. “Two Benjamins and a Jefferson. Go on” —he waved whatever hands through the air— “empty me out. It’s yours for the cause. Just gimme back my wallet.”
Trin grinned, plucked the money out as instructed, then tossed him back his Velcro time capsule.
Our girl slapped the money onto Ben’s open palm.
“How are things going, by the way?” Ben asked as he glanced at me.
He meant the new foundation. In the weeks immediately following the spotlight article, one hundred and sixty-five people, all victims of Ben’s father, had called or emailed the reporter, expressing their appreciation to her and their Robin Hood heroine. When the reporter had done a follow-up article to share that those victims wanted to help others, eighteen hundred more stepped up with their support.
The reporter had contacted me in prison, I’d asked Kiki for help, and together with the guidance of Victoria Michaelson, and under the umbrella of The Unity Foundation, we’d formed a separate foundation with my dream in mind, the one I’d shared with Ben on Heart’s couch.
Once I’d gotten out, and after a few months of getting everything legally set up, I’d approached Heart yesterday to see if she wanted to partner up with me. “Awesome. Heart enthusiastically agreed.”
That’s where all the newest donations were being funneled: The Robin Hood Initiative.
Ben folded the confiscated bills with precision, then slipped them under the collar of my T-shirt, down into my bra.
I glanced at the slight bulge, then shot him a deadpan expression. “I’m not a stripper.”
“Couldn’t you be? Just for me?” he murmured into my ear. “Make my dream come true.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, then gave him a soft kiss. “Just for you.”
Because of you.
Because you believed in us—even when I wasn’t brave enough to trust...
All of our dreams are coming true.