Richard stepped forward. His left hand gently cradled the back of my neck, his right cupped my face, thumb tenderly stroking my cheekbone. Then he lowered his head and kissed me.
The dinner and dance were warm and lively. Richard's arm was around my waist as we danced slowly under the string lights hanging in the garden. Leonardo, held by Gina, watched the spinning lights and crowd with curiosity, giggling.
"Tired?" Richard asked softly, his breath brushing my ear.
"A little, but happy." I leaned on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar woody scent mixed with faint traces of wine. "Today was perfect. Thank you—for the dress, for the piano."
"As long as you're happy." He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Tonight, we could..."
My face heated and I pinched his waist. "Mr. Winston, mind the occasion."
He chuckled low, his chest vibrating. "I was just going to say we could head home early, check on our son. Where did your mind go, Mrs. Winston?"
God, Richard was still the same bastard I knew and loved.
Late that night, after all the guests had left, we returned to our redecorated master bedroom, red rose petals scattered across the bed.
I lay in Richard's arms, my fingers unconsciously tracing the vicious but healed scar on his left forearm. He gently lifted my left wrist, the one I always covered with bracelets or watches, revealing the somewhat ugly old mark beneath.
"Does it still hurt?" he asked quietly, his fingertip stroking the scar with extreme gentleness.
I shook my head. "It stopped hurting long ago. It's just... not pretty."
"I don't see it that way." Richard lowered his head and kissed the scar solemnly. His warm lips pressed against the cool skin, sending a shiver through me. "It tells me how brave my girl once was, and how much loneliness she endured that I need to spend the rest of my life making up for."
Richard lifted his head and gazed into my eyes. "Natalie, I swear on my life that from now on, I will use everything I have to protect you and Leon, until my last breath."
I kissed his lips, my actions replacing words.
After the wedding, Richard remained busy but no longer treated work as his entire life. He adjusted his schedule to ensure he could come home for dinner with us at least three days a week. Unless absolutely necessary, he never scheduled work on weekends. He began looking for a new home—one with more natural light, a safe lawn for Leon to crawl on, soundproofed rooms for me to practice singing, and close to good schools. He even started deliberately delegating some non-core business to trusted deputies and board members. In his words, "I need tosave time for when Leon can kick a soccer ball, so I can practice with him. And to attend Natalie's concerts."
A month later, I released my first post-pregnancy single, titled "Second Sunrise." The melody was bright and cheerful. I shared the song on social media with a photo of me in the manor garden, holding Leonardo, laughing at the camera. Sunlight spilled over us, my wedding ring and diamond award ring sparkling.
Soon after, Emma was shrieking on the phone. "Baby! Your new song hit number one! The streaming numbers broke records! Everyone's saying it's the happiest song they've ever heard! God, Natalie, you did it!"
I looked at the soaring data and screen full of congratulations on my tablet. Success was still exciting, but it was no longer the only measure I used to prove my worth. I knew who I was. I knew who loved me. That was enough.
On Christmas Day,Blackwood Manor was decorated like a scene from a Christmas card, with a massive spruce tree covered in shiny ornaments and warm lights. We hosted a small, intimate family gathering. Gina and her new boyfriend Anthony—a gentle-looking documentary filmmaker—arrived early with gifts piled high.
"This is for my godson Leon," Gina said, shoving an enormous, garishly wrapped box at me. Then she leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "By the way, Anthony proposed last night. God, you know what? He hid the ring in a burger. I almost swallowed it."
Her dramatic tone made me laugh, but I still hugged her excitedly. "That's wonderful! Congratulations!"
At dinner, the long table was laden with food, the fireplace blazing. Leonardo sat in his special high chair, wearing a red reindeer onesie, excitedly waving a silicone spoon, trying to grab at food that wasn't there. Richard and I sat side by side, his hand naturally holding mine under the table.
Just as we raised our glasses to toast Merry Christmas, the little guy in the high chair suddenly stopped waving. His bright eyes looked at me, then at Richard, and then his little mouth opened, producing two crystal-clear syllables.
"Ma...ma?"
I nearly dropped my glass.
"Did he just..." I looked at Richard in disbelief. Richard was clearly stunned too.
Leonardo, seemingly pleased with the attention, turned to Richard and grinned with his few little teeth, calling out even more clearly, "Da...da!"
"Oh my God!" Gina was the first to scream, jumping up and clapping.
"He's talking! Leon can say mama and dada!" Emma shouted excitedly.
