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“Really?” Sean is standing across the room, watching us from behind a Greek column of carved white marble with beautiful corbels anchoring the thing to the ceiling. Or maybe it’s holding up the roof. I’m not an architect but I love this room. It’s blue, teal, turquoise, and white. The effect is a calming force of glass tile, marble, and stone. Add in the little pools scattered across the floor like puddles—some hot, some cold—and it’s heaven.
I lower the baby and cradle him in my arms. “I love the name Sean.”
“It’s not going to happen.” He pushes off the stone column and strides toward me. Those dark jeans hug his narrow hips. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt with the front unbuttoned. It flutters as he moves toward me.
“Did the baby spit up on you again?” I smile at him and gesture towards the fresh shirt.
“Maybe.” He stops at the edge of my chaise, even though there are a bunch of empty places to sit around the room.
“You bounced her after she ate, again, didn’t you?”
He grins. “Only a little. I thought she was going to smile. Then she puked on me. My mistake. I never thought I’d confuse the two.”
I pat the spot on the edge of the chaise for Sean. He pulls his shirt off, tosses it on a table, and slips his hips in that spot and then leans back, turning to face me and the baby. After Sean settles, I reposition the baby between us, so that he’s in the middle. His round little face is wide awake. For a moment he fixates on Sean and his chubby fist rises. Sean offers him a finger. The baby wraps his digits around the offering and squeezes. Sean looks elated.
“No one will hurt him. I’m going to make sure it never happens.”
“Like you did with Bryan?” I prod, upset he never confided that piece of information in me. “Did you think I’d tell?”
“No. That wasn’t it. I trust you with my life, but it wasn’t my call. Bryan thought he was a dead man walking. He was. Getting shot was a better death than the one looming. I didn’t know he’d do that and save me that night. I owed him. He made me promise to keep it quiet. Even if he survived the bullet, which would be a miracle, the cancer would still kill him. He wanted to die.” Sean’s face crumples. “There was nothing I could do to help him. And I judged the hell out of him all these years. I knew he was high all the time. I judged him without knowing why. It was cruel. I don’t want to be that man, so I made up for it where I could and when he asked me to keep it quiet, I did. There was no point in putting Hallie through a second death for the man. Besides, it was his dying wish and I was a bastard to him.”
“It had nothing to do with me.” It’s not a question. It’s a realization. Bryan never thought he’d step foot in New York again. Yet, here he is. “Why now?”
“The family was threatened. He came to sort it out. Help. And then he’s going to Hallie.”
“Sean, what if she hears about him before—”
“Hallie is off the grid.”
“How do you know?” I pause for a second and tip my head at him. “You’ve been tracking her all this time? Some would say that’s creepy.”
“Some would say ‘thank you.’”
I smirk at him as I run the pad of my finger along the baby’s chubby cheek. He’s so fat and cute! “We’ll see what Hallie says. I’ve said my peace. But it seems like he doesn’t know he’s a dad. I would have thought he’d be excited about meeting his daughter.”
“He doesn’t know.”
I make a high pitched noise that’s somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “You’re not telling him.”
“Its not my place. Hallie will tell him.”
“What if she married? What if she’s with someone?”
“She’s not.”
“You’re sure?” Like a thousand million percent?”
Sean gives me a trademark cocky grin. “You doubt me? I’m hurt, Mrs. Ferro.”
“Not yet. I’m still Miss Smith, Mr. Jones.” I lean in close and kiss his lips. “Let’s talk wedding stuff once we name the kids and make sure our son is safe.”
Sean has a sheepish look on his face. “Of course.”
The ease with which he says it makes me ask, “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” He’s hiding a smirk.
“You bought something. What? We already have a castle.”
“I may have reserved a wedding date at a certain locale that would be amazing. But, we don’t need to talk about it.”
“Sean.”
“If we don’t start planning something, my mother will plan everything. I could book The Game Farm and it’ll be enough to hold her off. For a little bit.”
I blink at him. Shocked. “You booked The Game Farm for our wedding?”
“It’s quite pretty at night. With all the lights and animals. You could ride in on the train…” his voice trails off and I can’t tell if he’s serious.
I smile and nod. “Sounds great.” Better than the nightmare with the courthouse and the bloody dress.
“What’s the matter?” His teasing softens, as does his expression. “I booked someplace equally unique, but not there. Not for us. But that’s not what’s been keeping you awake, is it?” Sean takes a curl that’s broken free from my long braid and tucks it behind my ear. The baby wriggles between us.
I stare at the little one, tracing the lines of his face with my finger, as I speak. “I keep having this dream. The same thing happens every time.”
“Tell me about it.” He’s not demanding but offering his confidence.
Maye if I say it out loud, the nightmares will stop. “There’s nothing but panic racing through my veins. When I get to the nursery, there’s only one baby. Then I’m running and I realize I’m in my wedding gown and the lace is stained with scarlet blood that’s quickly drying. I leave the one baby in th
e nursery and frantically search for the other—who I keep calling Abby so we’re not using that name—until I’m hauled up the steps of the courthouse and—” my throat tightens as I confess this reoccurring terrifying dream.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were still having bad dreams?” His hand is on my face, cradling my cheek. He has the other on our son’s tummy to soothe his wriggling. Sean rubs the baby’s belly and then returns his gaze to mine when I don’t respond. “Avery, you’ve been through a lot—”
“So have you and I don’t see you waking up at night in a sweaty panic.”
“It’s because I don’t sleep.”
“Yes, you do. I saw you. You lay down and fall asleep so fast. It almost makes me jealous.”
“I pass out. And I dream about everything from Pete pummeling that asshole, to Bryan getting shot, to finding the pilot dead on the floor and thinking I’d lost you too.”
I look away because there’s so much pain in him. “How do you handle it? I mean, now that I took away your main vent?”
He laughs. “Black’s girls?” I nod. “I was full of shit back then. I didn’t know my ass from my elbow. Do you want to know what stabilized me? What made it possible to get through that time and this one? What makes me certain sleep will eventually be restful again?”
I nod. “No.”
“It’s you.”
“Me?” Shock fills my features. “I’m a train wreck. How is that helpful?”
“Yes. You.” His expression softens and has a smitten quality. “You have this way about you. An internal clock or something like it that dictates when you do what and how you do it. You just seem to know. It was you. I knew I could pull my shit together because of you. I knew I could leave the monster behind because you never became one, no matter how hard you tried.”
My voice is small. “I’ve killed people.”
“So have I. We did what we had to do to live. And look at him. You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t protect him now. Regardless of the cost to you? Nightmares or not.”
