Three months later
Maxon
I ROLLED OVER AND PASSED a soft kiss to Libby’s jaw, then pressed my mouth to hers, full and pouty in sleep.
I let my fingers find her pulse and lay there for a while.
Felt her. Memorized her.
Waking to a song none other could compare to.
“Your heartbeat will always be my favorite song,” I whispered against her shoulder, then slipped out of bed.
A couple days after everything happened, Dare went with Kieran Hayes to Chicago to meet with the Moretti family.
After realizing Gabe had been here, watching and studying Libby ever since her twenty-first birthday—longer than the seven years Libby had known him—Dare demanded the old contract destroyed.
A new one was drafted and signed.
The alliance was restored.
And Libby’s marriage never happened.
Apparently even the Moretti family feared Kieran Hayes.
I was halfway down the hall when Einstein came trudging into the entrance, looking mostly asleep.
“When did you get here?”
“Slept here.”
I just watched her walk past me to mine and Libby’s room, shaking my head when I heard her flop onto the bed.
“Good to know,” I murmured, and continued walking toward the kitchen to make coffee.
When Libby and I moved into our house, I’d offered Einstein a room.
As a joke.
She said she’d already picked one out and made a copy of the house key, and she’d use it from time to time.
I didn’t ask how. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
But true to her word, a few mornings a week, I woke up only to have her pass by me in the hall so she could cuddle my wife. How she knew I was awake and not in bed with her . . .
Again . . . I didn’t ask.
Besides, they’d spent most their lives together. I wasn’t going to be the one to separate them.
That hadn’t stopped Einstein from calling me a best-friend thief the entire week leading up to the wedding and after.
Our mob-style wedding.
It was casual. Fun. Perfect.
Libby’s mom even showed.
We had cupcakes and skipped the flowers. Libby wore a skirt and shirt that were so Libby and opposite of what you’d expect on a bride . . .
And I’d counted down the minutes until I could tear them off and bury myself inside her.
When the guys had asked about the ceremony, I’d told them the truth. That Libby came from a mafia family and this was how they did weddings.
They’d laughed. Ledger thought they were being Punk’d again.
None of them knew exactly what had happened the night Libby was taken, only having caught pieces and thinking most of it was pranks—including the man the twins killed in their driveway.
I planned on keeping it that way.
“Freaking cold toes.”
I looked over my shoulder, a smile pulling at my lips as I watched Libby walk into the kitchen in nothing but my shirt.
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to kiss her. “Wife.”
“Caveman.”
I smiled against her mouth. “Something like that.”
“Come back here,” Einstein yelled from our bedroom.
Libby stared at me. Her face was blank, but her eyes were light and excited.
Before I could ask what was going on, she groaned and headed back to our room.
I grabbed a mug and poured coffee, and was headed to the fridge for creamer when I heard it.
I looked over my shoulder and around the room when it disappeared.
I had the fridge open when it started up again.
“The hell?”
I shut the door and followed the sound out of the kitchen, but it disappeared.
I’d started rocking back when it started up again, coming from . . .
From my bedroom.
I walked faster than before, my mouth open to call for Libby when the sound shifted.
The amplified dragging and scratching sound was gone, and in its place was something I’d never heard.
Not this way at least. But I knew it just the same.
A rapid whom whom whom filled the house and slowed my feet.
I walked into my room, my steps hesitant and eyes wide.
Libby was lying on the bed with her shirt bunched under her breasts.
Einstein was kneeling next to her, pressing something to her stomach.
Both were staring at me and smiling wide.
I lifted my hand and pointed.
Tried to point.
“What . . . what is that?”
Einstein sighed. “Oh, come on. You’re not that dumb.”
Libby hit her without ever looking away. Her smile never faltered. “That’s our baby.”
I was suddenly on the bed, kneeling on the other side of her, and Einstein was pressing that thing into my hand.
“Rebel . . .”
She placed her hands on her stomach tenderly and whispered, “I’m almost three months.” When I looked at her again, her eyes were bright with tears.
I bent to kiss her, long and slow.
Pulling back slightly, I murmured, “Listen.”
Libby released a shaky breath and smiled as that whom whom whom surrounded us.
“That heartbeat . . . that’s my favorite song.”