God, he was the finest man I'd ever seen.
I rested my hand on the knob. My heart pounded against my ribs. Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened the door, then stepped aside. Targen looked inside. At first, nothing happened.His gaze moved across the room, taking things in. The freshly painted walls. The bookshelf with the stack of children’s books. The rocking chair near the window. The stuffed bear sitting on one shelf. They were just small things, pieces of what I hoped would be a bigger picture. This room was about possibilities.
“I'm not pregnant,” I told him.
He nodded. “I know.”
“I just... you know, I told you how badly I wanted to be a mother. I know it's not fashionable, but I want to make a home...bea home for my family more than anything.”
“And that's okay. What's right for other people doesn't have to be right for us. I want to take care of you, Theory,” Targen whispered, his eyes like molten silver as they caressed over me.
“I've been scared.” The confession came quietly. “Because what if I couldn’t? What if I wanted it and it never happened? What if I got excited and got hurt again?” My voice cracked slightly.No, Theory.I wasn't going to cry on my husband’s birthday. “But I don't want to be scared with you. The gift is... I want to hope with you, dream with you.”
He walked around me, then hugged me from behind. Still no words, so I kept spilling them.
“I know it might not happen. I know we might try and nothing comes from it. But I realized something.”
“What?” He asked softly, swaying with me.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life acting like I don’t want things. I want you, Targen. And I want a family with you. I want a happy, soft life with you. You told me you were going to make me happy. I'm going to make you happy, too. I'm going to be your peace, your calm, your--”
“Theory,” he murmured, sweeping me up in his arms.
He settled us in the rocking chair. He held me and just rocked, both of us too full of emotion to speak for a minute.
“You're so brave to face your fears,milaya. Just know I'ma be here, right beside you, being brave with you,” he promised.
A tear slipped free before I could stop it. Targen pulled me tighter against him. I pressed my face against his chest. I felt his hand on my back.
“I love you.” The words rumbled through his chest.
“I love you, too.”
My voice sounded muffled, but he didn’t seem to mind. Eventually, I tilted my head back. His eyes found mine immediately.
Like always.
A small smile curved my mouth. “Happy birthday.”
I snuggled closer to him. He held me extra tight, the way he knew I liked. And above my head, he whispered, “You made it that way.”
His phone vibrated and he groaned. I moved slightly so he could reach it. He read the text quickly and shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“Mama wants me to meet her at the helipad tomorrow.” He smiled then. “Apparently, Iamgetting a helicopter.”
(Friday,July 11)
There wasn't a perfect place on this earth. But if there were a perfect place on this earth, it would be the island of Port Isle. Port Isle was the kind of place people thought didn't exist anymore. Situated off Florida's east coast, the island was surrounded by beautiful water. The Atlantic stretched endlessly beneath a cloudless July sky, the water shifting between deep blue and shades of turquoise depending on where the sun hit it. Palm trees swayed in the ocean breeze. This place catered to people with too much money. Expensive homes dotted the shoreline and luxury yachts crowded the marina. It was beautiful.
Parts of Port Isle, like Russian Row, where the estate my whipped ass father had gifted my mother sat, were exclusive. The estate stretched along a private section of the beach. It was all white sand and sea oats. A huge house was hidden behind carefully landscaped greenery. Sergei had built what I wanted to build for Theory. I understood the old man more each day.
The Atlantic rolled against my chest as I cut through the water. Swimming had always helped me think. The ocean wasn't Siberia, but there was something familiar about the cold and the silence. I surfaced and turned toward home. Closer to shore, I spotted Theory immediately. That wasn't a surprise. I always spotted Theory immediately. She was stretched across a chaise beneath a large umbrella, sunglasses shielding her eyes. A cream-colored one-piece hugged every lush curve God had given her. Sunlight kissed honey-gold skin the way that I loved to. Beside her, Epiphany sat beneath her own umbrella scrolling through her phone.
Pip looked up first.
“Oh, Lord,” she muttered.
