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I can only roll my eyes. “I’m fine with that. But you’d better get your spoiling itch out of the way now, because after all I’ve been through, there’s no way I’m going to be the tough-love parent! I need to be able to pamper my little munchkin.”
Ronan squeezes my shoulder as he pulls me in closer to his hulking body. “I think we’re both already tough enough as is,” he laughs. “All we need to do now is provide the love.”
I lean my head against him and think back to that night at Carlos’s apartment, not so long ago, when Ronan had returned after all those months away and confessed his feelings to me.
“... You said you loved me before,” I say quietly, remembering how those words had burrowed into my heart. “Did you mean it?”
Ronan doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.” He does hesitate to spit out what comes next, though. “... Do you think you might ever be able to love me?”
I tease him with my smile. My arm wraps around his waist, barely able to make it to the other side. Besides his hulking frame, I can hardly see any sign of that dark, cold beast that first greeted me in the night all those months ago. “I think I might be able to manage that.”
A gentle breeze covers us in warmth as Ronan slows us down to a standstill. His big, rough hands fall onto my shoulder and then make their way down to my hands. Our fingers intertwine and the touch of his open palm against mine sends a wonderful tingle all through my body. A wave of butterflies flutter in my stomach and I know that I won’t have to try very hard to love Ronan, because I already do.
My eyes close and our lips meet. All of my stress from the past three months—hell, all of the stress from my entire life—seems to evaporate in the soft passion of his kiss.
I can almost feel my feet lifting off the ground as Ronan pulls me in closer to his body. The floating sensation lifts me back up onto that perch I’d fallen off of back when my mom died. Now, even with my eyes closed, I can see sunlight on the horizon. It silhouettes the shape of a hulking Irishman with dark auburn hair and the broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen. The beams behind him pulse with the beat of three hearts, all in-sync with each other, all a part of one family.
There’s still so much left to be done, but in this blissful little moment, I realize that not only can I be happy, but I deserve to be.
When our lips finally pull apart, and we gaze into each other’s eyes from up close, I’m overcome with happiness.
For the first time in forever, my future feels so bright and sunny and full of possibility. It’s exhilarating, and, I suddenly realize, it’s the exact kind of excitement I was really looking for all those months ago, when I first gave Ronan a chance on that crisp winter day.
That cold dark shit can go to hell, I think, smiling up at the man of my dreams. It’s all warm sunlight from here on out.
Epilogue
Nia
2 years later...
Knock knock.
“Hey, Ro’! Can you get that!?” A stray strand of spaghetti splatters across my cheek as I turn back to the little bundle of joy that’s demanding my full attention. We’re both covered in red sauce and dangling pasta. “Oran, call for your papa,” I smile, just barely holding back a laugh like I always do when I’m around my son.
He’s almost 18 months old now, but already, he’s surpassed Ronan as the messiest eater in this household.
“DA-DA!” the little firecracker tries his best to imitate his dad’s bellowing voice. I can’t hold back the laughter anymore, and I giggle as I wipe a streak of pasta sauce from his chubby cheek.
I can’t help but admire the little boy. Every once in a while, I see him for what he truly is: a complete and utter blessing. Physically, he’s like a perfect mix of Ronan and I. His curly auburn-streaked brown hair is a tad darker than Ronan’s and a tad lighter than mine, as is his caramel skin and honey-glazed eyes. Emotionally, Oran seems to be right in the center of our two personalities as well. Thank god for that. Despite his endless reserves of energy, he’s a pretty even-keeled baby, never getting too high or too low. I figure it’s because he knows just how loved he is.
“I’m coming, baby boy!” Ronan booms as he jumps down the last set of steps by our front entrance. He swings the door open and there’s a joyous exchange of greetings.
I don’t have to see who’s there to know who it is. I wipe Oran’s messy face off just enough to be presentable. It’s a big day for his uncle Finn, after all.
“There he is!” I smile, bouncing Oran up and down in my arms as Ronan and Finn bound into the kitchen. “The youngest police chief in the history of this crummy city!”
“Unc’ Finn!” Oran shouts, reaching for the uniformed young man. I exchange the squirming toddler for a hug.
“Hey, I take offence to that ‘crummy’ remark,” Finn chuckles, bouncing his unofficial nephew up and down in his arms.
“I meant it was crummy. Now, thanks to you, it’s the best it’s ever been!”
“Aw, shucks!” Finn jokes. “I can’t take all the credit, of course. At least not here. Your wonderful husband has had more to do with it than anyone else. If only the public could know how vital Ronan has been to the unprecedented levels of peace and safety we’ve been experiencing.”
Ronan wraps a big arm around his buddy. “But they never can and they never will, and that’s just fine with me. I’m happy with the way things are.” His dimples dance as he studies me with those sparkling blue eyes.
God, I love this man.
