Page 280 of The American


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I have purpose. A woman, kids.

Life.

I start back up the beach to the villa, Ruby’s cries getting louder. When I enter, I find Pearl in the rocking chair in the corner by the window that looks out onto the ocean, Ruby settled now, feeding from a bottle. It’s Pearl’s favorite spot, looking out at the endless space. She should be bored of it by now. She claims she’ll never get bored. Fine by me. We’re not going anywhere.

She knows I’m here—she would have watched me walk up the beach—but I leave her for a moment, getting some water.

I wander over with my glass and stand behind her, looking at what she’s looking at. Water. Still, calm, peaceful water. “My love,” I whisper.

“My love,” she says on a sigh, tilting her head back to look up at me. Her smile is small. It doesn’t take away from how happy I know she is. “She was hungry.”

I dip and kiss Pearl’s forehead before rounding her, and she takes her feet off the footstool in front of her, letting me perch, her eyes lingering on my bare chest. Intimacy has been . . . tricky, to say the least. No penetration, naturally. I know I speak for both of us when I say it hasn’t been easy. In time, I tell myself, reaching forward and resting a finger under her chin, lifting her head and her eyes. The green blinds me. I narrow an eye playfully. She nibbles at her lip. “Behave,” I whisper.

“Okay, Daddy.” She smirks, and I roll my eyes, setting my glass on the floor and taking Pearl’s feet, putting them in my lap and massaging them.

“How do you feel?”

“Good,” she says, nodding to the table nearby where there is an array of prescription meds. “The docs said I can lower my dosages.”

“That’s good.” I rub at her feet, my attention constantly passing between Pearl and Ruby. She’s going to be a redhead too, the signs already showing. Fire red. I hope she’s as brave and resilient as her mommy too. Not that she’ll need to be brave. Not with me shielding her and her mother from . . . everything. It’s a vow. “How do you feel about later?”

“I’d love to go,” Pearl muses, nodding. “I don’t know how long I’ll last, but I want to see everyone together, not in dribs and drabs as they stop by to check on us.”

“Whatever you want.” I check Ruby. She’s stopped suckling. “Is she done?”

“Little and often.” Pearl muses as she pulls the bottle away, breaking the latch, and there’s no fuss about it from Ruby.

“Here.” I rise and take her from Pearl’s arms and settle back on the footstool, gazing down at the wonder that is my little girl. Fuck me, I get a lump in my throat every time I look at her. I don’t care what anyone says—all babies are ugly when they’re born. Not mine. I don’t think my eyes will ever be blessed with anything so perfectly beautiful in my life. Except for her mother, of course.

I lift Ruby and push my lips to her forehead, closing my eyes.

Uncle Carlo wouldn’t be turning in his grave. He’d be spinning.

I get her onto my shoulder and push my palm into her back to straighten her out, holding my breath, waiting for it. She burps, and I exhale, smiling as I start to pat her, hoping for more.

“You’re a pro,” Pearl says around her smile.

I chuckle. “A pro at burping her?”

She shrugs, only very mildly. “At being a daddy.”

“Who would have thought?” I muse, turning my face into Ruby, smiling. Truth is, I didn’t get much of a choice. I’ve gone from no kids to two in months. But it came so instinctively—the love, the purpose, as if someone turned on a button and that was it. Who would have thought? Not me. Not in a month of Sundays. I’m Dad, boyfriend, and protector. And you know what? Nothing has ever felt so natural. Being Pearl’s. Being Nolan’s. And now being Ruby’s.

She lets out another burp, this one smaller and airy. Always the same. One big, sharp belch, followed by a breathy release. She’s done. And no spit-up. I’m winning.

“Here’s Nolan,” Pearl says, nodding out of the window.

I turn and see him jogging up the steps from the beach to the villa, wearing the loudest Hawaiian button-up. “Jesus Christ,” I murmur. “He definitely doesn’t get his dress sense from his daddy.”

“His daddy doesn’t wear clothes most of the time,” Pearl muses, taking another greedy fill of my chest.

“You complaining?”

“Never.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Okay, stud.” She chuckles as Nolan comes through the front door, his eyes coming straight to the chair in the window, as always. He nods at me, and I return it, as he wanders over and dips, kissing the top of Pearl’s head. “Hey, Mom.”

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