I tuck a loose strand of her hair back and gently smooth over her cheek. “A promise is a promise.”
She flashes me her gorgeous smile before going to inspect the mostly empty shelves. Ariana moved in Ellie’s books but there’s still plenty of room to grow.
“This is it,” she calls out. “I found the spot.”
My eyes narrow, confused. “What spot? Did I miss an area? It can be fixed.”
When she spins to face me her eyes are bright with anticipation, lips caught between a smile and a smirk. She points to the bottom row of the bookshelf closest to the window seat. “This is where we can put the nursery rhymes. It’s the perfect spot, don’t you think?”
Now I’m even more confused. “Since when do you read nursery rhymes? Is that some new kinky genre I don’t know about?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “And you call yourself the sheriff.”
It takes me a moment, and then it dawns on me. I feel like an idiot for not catching on sooner. My gaze lands on her flat stomach and then back to her eyes. “Are you—are we?”
Her lips lift in a small smile. “No, not yet. BUT,” she drags me close, snaking her arms around my neck. “I was thinking we should start trying.” The light behind her eyes dims slightly. “See if we can. If I can.”
I hate the flicker of fear there, of the worry she carries. I don’t want her to blame herself if it’s not easy.
“Hey,” I start. “There are so many ways to grow our family. We can do it the old-fashioned way,” I rock my hips into hers, eliciting a faint laugh. “If we need a little help, that’s okay, too. There are supplements and treatments and surrogacy and adoption—we have plenty of options.”
My answer doesn’t seem to soothe her the way I hoped it would.
“Yeah,” she nods. “You’re right.” Her voice is small and quiet and I’d give anything to make it go away.
I kiss her softly, trying to dissolve some of the worry. “We’re a family with or without kids. You’re my family, you’re my whole fucking world. We’re going to figure it out, and no matter what I’ll be there every step of the way. You’ll never go through anything alone again. Never, querida mía.”
Her eyes fall shut. “I know,” she whispers.
“I love you, Ellie girl.”
“I love you too.”
A stretch of silence passes between us before I glide my hands down her waist and under her ass, lifting her.
She yelps, laughing. “What are you doing?”
“You said you wanted to start trying.” I smash my mouth to hers as I walk us against a bookshelf, pressing her back into it. “No time like the present.”
Epilogue
ELYSE
ABOUT 10 YEARS LATER
Ididn’t realize these pants weren’t going to fit until it was too late. Now I’m lying on the bed, defeated and out of breath.
I run a hand over the swell of my belly, feeling the familiar weight of the baby pressing against my palm.
We weren’t even trying, perfectly happy with our three girls, but a well-timed weekend away paired with playing fast and loose with any form of birth control, and I got knocked up with our fourth.
This has been my hardest pregnancy yet—and, of course, it’s our first boy. Because naturally, it had to be a boy—men are always difficult.
Being pregnant at forty is no joke. More appointments, more strain on my body, and if I’m honest, a little fear. I’d just gotten used to the girls being older, more independent, needing me less. And now, here I am, starting over. Back at square one.
I worry I won’t have the same energy I once did. That Iwon’t keep up the way I used to. But ready or not, in about three months, he’ll be here.
“Ellie girl, you up there?” Dominic calls out as he climbs the stairs.
