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“I know, baby,” I rasp.
“Then you took away my choices by marrying me without my knowledge and getting me pregnant.”
I swallow hard, my jaw tightening. It’s all true. There is no excuse.
She licks her lips. “But one thing you said is true.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s not safe out there. You have too many enemies. Now that I know the identity of my father, it looks like I’m also a target.”
My breath hitches. “Emberly?”
“If it’s alright with you, I’ll move into the pool house.”
My lips part, but I make no sound because I’m trying to process her words.
Is she taking me back?
No.
She’s accepting my offer of protection. It’s a start. Maybe returning home will encourage her to paint. Joy swells in my chest, threatening to burst. At least I’ll be close by to help with her needs.
“Of course,” I reply, my breath shallowing. This is more than I deserve. “And I still stand by the offer to take care of all your needs.”
With a laugh, she offers me her hand. “You wish.”
Actually, I do. If she wants soup in the middle of the night, I’ll be there. A foot rub, call me Mr. Masseur. An orgasm, she can use any part of my body she wants to relieve her tension.
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss each of her knuckles before finally meeting her eyes. What I see there makes my heart soar. It’s a glimmer of hope.
“Stay for as long as you want,” I say. “And what about us?”
“You’ll need to grovel a lot more than that,” she says with a hint of a smile.
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I say, my chest tightening with relief. “Anything to earn your forgiveness.”
When a man steps out of death row for a murder he didn’t commit, the first thing he should do is appreciate the people who stood by him during his darkest hours and embrace the chance of a better future.
Capello might have ruined my life, but he left me the most precious gift. The most beautiful, loving creature in the world, who’s about to give me a son.
SEVENTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
EMBERLY
I wake up from my nap with a groan. The setting sun glistens on the pool’s surface, reminding me that another day has passed, and the baby is still not showing any signs of coming. I lean back on the rocking chair and sigh.
At forty-one weeks, it feels like I’m carrying a tiny planet, complete with its own gravitational pull. Even though the OB-GYN assures us that this is normal, I’m anxious to meet my little boy.
The baby stirs and I wince. All I want to do is crawl into bed, never leaving until he decides to come, but Roman has turned taking care of me into his full-time job.
Every morning, he wakes me up with a cup of tea, then we take a walk together around the estate. When I don’t want to eat breakfast with the rest of the family, he makes me something from scratch in the pool house’s kitchen.
After eating, we take a swim together in the pool, followed by assisted stretches. He’s become my own pregnancy butler—always ready to offer a snack, a massage, or a hug.
