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Jig chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”
“And you’re okay with that? Even with…everything.” Even with the fact you once had a daughter and a wife who were both brutally and senselessly murdered.
“I’m fucking amazing with that. I’d have been pretty worried for my son’s sake had we had a boy. You’re a bit rough on men.”
“Hey! I just had your baby. You’re supposed to be extra sweet to me.” She gave him a half-hearted elbow to the gut.
Jig wasn’t looking at her. His gaze stayed trained on the sleeping infant. “How are you feeling?”
“Good. Great, really. My legs are starting to tingle.” Izzy wiggled her toes. “Getting some movement back too.”
“How are you gonna top this Christmas present next year?” He wore a grin full of mischief.
“Oh, no, don’t even think about it. Having a baby will not be our family’s Christmas tradition. No way, no how. You’re gonna have to do some serious negotiating if you think I’m doing this again anytime soon.”
“I’m kidding, Iz.” He reached back and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “Actually, I was hoping you’d be willing to give me a second present this Christmas,” he said, holding it out to her.
“Can you open it. My hand are a little full.” Her heart raced as he unfolded the paper. What could it possibly be?
He’d said it was a gift for him.
As more of the paper was revealed, Izzy gasped. “Jig,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful. Where…”
“I had Rip design it. I was hoping you’d ink it on my left thigh.”
Her hand trembled as she reached for the paper with a sketch of a gorgeous flowering tree with two bright blossoms.
One for her.
One for their daughter.
On his right leg, Jig had a tattoo memorializing the lost life of his wife and daughter. A huge, dead tree with blood-red leaves falling. Each year, on the anniversary of their deaths, he added two falling leaves. This new design, so alive with life and vibrant colors marked his new life.
His life with her and their daughter.
This time, Izzy had no hope of preventing the tears that coursed down her cheeks.
“Babe.” He wiped them away with the pads of his thumb.
“I’d be honored to ink you with this, Jig. So, so honored.” To know she not only laid the ink but was responsible for bringing him out of such a dark place in his life made every bit of struggle she’d experienced well worth it.
“Good. Merry Christmas, baby,” Jig said right before kissing her.
“Merry Christmas.”
Jig rested his forehead against hers, keeping them connected. “Thank you,” he whispered.
The seriousness in his tone had a lump forming in her throat. “For what?” she asked as low as he spoke so as not to disturb the peace of their sleeping infant.
“For you. For her.” He stroked a finger over the baby’s head. “For so many years, I’d been alive but not living. I existed in a state of anger and bitterness. Not once did I even contemplate the idea of having a second chance at…well, at being happy. And you’ve made me so fucking happy, Iz. You gave me a second chance at a damn good life.”
“Jesus, Jig,” she said as two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Were he anyone else, she’d have forced those drops to remain in her eyes even if she went blind. She was Isabella Monroe, tough, snarky, and all-around badass bitch. She was not an emotional crier.
Until Jig.
Until the man made her feel things she’d thought didn’t exist. But it was all right for her to break down in front of her man. All her secrets were safe with him. As was her heart.
She cleared her throat. Just because she’d shed the tears didn’t mean she was comfortable talking about it. Jig knew how much his words meant to her, and he knew she felt the same. “So, uh, you’re happy with the name we picked?”
The indulgent smile he gave her let her know he was on to her topic change. “Yeah. I think it’s perfect.”
After he kissed her forehead, Izzy stared at their baby once again
Perfect. Yeah, that was a damn good way to describe life at that moment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HOLLY
“Maybe we should have just waited until they were discharged to see the baby. What do you think?” Holly asked as she fiddled with the neatly wrapped baby gift, she’d purchased about six weeks ago. Two sets actually, one in purple—because no way in hell was Izzy a pink kinda gal—and one in blue in case the baby had been a boy. Since the grapevine informed her the baby was a girl, Holly only wrapped the purple.
With a hearty laugh, LJ slung his heavy arm across her shoulders and tugged her to his side. “Dontcha think it’s a little too late for cold feet?” He pointed to a door about ten steps away, well maybe only five for his enormous stride. “That’s their room.”
