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“Yeah.” A smile blasts across his face, brown eyes creasing. Unadulterated joy. “There’s a new little girl you need to meet.”
“It’s a girl.” My hand shoots up to my mouth as I choke back the tremulous emotion. “Shit. I should’ve had Rex take me to get my camera.”
He chuckles with a gratified, “Got it,” as he lifts my camera bag from the floor.
I jump off the bed and throw my arms around his neck. “You really are the best, Ty. Thank you.”
He squeezes me back. “You make it easy.” Releasing me with a peck on my temple, he adds, “Go ahead. Go see your girls.”
Your girls. That’s what makes Ty so special. He sees the brokenness others miss and knows exactly how to mend it. In the simplest of gestures.
I sprint, with my camera in tow, to reach Ivy. She’s propped up between Wells’s legs in the bed, both embracing the angel in their arms. As much as I want to climb in there with them, I resist and instead capture a few shots. It’s too perfect to pass up—illuminated with heart and wholeness. An all-consuming intimacy.
After a few minutes, Ivy calls me over, impatient, a maternal glow radiating off her. “Felicity,” she says, her bottom lip quivering as she stares, awestruck, at her daughter and passes me the cooing bundle. “Meet your Aunt Lettie.”
I brush my finger over the baby’s teeny palm, so she coils her hand around it. I’ll be forever in the palm of her hand. She’s pink like Ivy but has darker blue eyes and a full head of Wells’s raven-black hair.
“She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I avow.
Wells kisses Ivy’s mussed tresses, wrapping himself around her tighter. “Thanks to her mama.”
“Absolutely,” I agree. “Felicity is the perfect name.”
“You think?” Ivy asks, tears brimming in her big cerulean eyes. “It’s Felicity Kingston Wells. She can add Cabrini or O’Reilly if she chooses to head one of the families.”
“Strong and feminine. Brilliant. And your dad would have loved the forethought,” I say, laughing. “Preparing for her takeover from day one.”
She giggles as the tears drip. “That’s what Wells said.”
Her hands wipe at her face in a frenzy. That’s one thing we have in common. Neither of us likes to cry in front of others.
“Lettie,” she whispers. “It’s Ben’s day.”
I know exactly where she’s going, and I can’t allow it. “Don’t you do that—make this about me or Ben. This is Felicity’s day. It belongs to her, to you, and your family.” I swallow and set a broad smile on her. “You know Ben would’ve taken this as a sign that you worshipped him anyway.”
She nods, a wistful grin tipping her lips. “I had that same thought. I just … I know today is hard.”
“Hard?” I kiss Felicity’s precious head, handing her back to Ivy and kissing her forehead too. “You’ve just transformed one of the hardest days into my favorite day ever, like only you can, bestie. Now, let me get some pictures of your beautiful family.”
Ty snaps a few with me and the new trio before I take some of Natasha with Felicity, and Natasha with Ivy, Wells, and the baby. Then, it’s on to the guys. The shoot turns into a full-blown ordeal because the new uncles argue over who gets to hold the baby, Wells hissing, “Jesus Christ,” and a slew of other expletives while Liam taunts him about language through it all.
After months in Europe, documenting The Many Faces of Affliction, which left me parched for hope and connection, this is a quenching. So much love and devotion in one frame—the brightest endearment I’ve ever had on the other end of my lens. Incongruous, considering the murky corruption all five rule over.
It brings to mind what Ivy said my first night here. She’s always been the wise one.
“I’d rather have a black-market king, who loves me with the untamable fury of Hell, than a devil who dresses in white, regards me below his career, and flashes his bewitching smile to hide his blackened soul.”
My gaze swings to Liam, doting over the priceless treasure of new life in his arms, twelve hours after he threatened to end one.
Black-market king or golden god. Either way, my only thought is, Me too.
LIAM
I’ve only held a baby once, and he wasn’t a newborn. I was nine and had been moved to a temporary placement after the family I’d been with couldn’t keep me anymore. I’m not sure why. There was always some bullshit reason: job transfer, too many kids, finally got pregnant, costs too much—or my personal favorite—not a good fit.
I’m not too proud to own my part even though I was only a kid. I was a handful, pissed at the world, and found great pleasure in aggravating others. That got old quick, even for the families who were decent people. Many were far from it.
During the week I was in that temporary placement, a baby boy, two or three months old, came to them, and they let me sit on the couch to hold him. It was the strangest feeling because up until that point, I’d never experienced love, not that I could remember. There are cloudy flashes of my mom, not enough to seep in. But when I held that baby and he cooed up at me, nestling into my arms, I got it. I understood how extraordinary it would feel to have my whole world reside in another person. And maybe even more so, I felt the sting of what was missing, what I could have.
