Page 109 of Seeley


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It was in who she was.

And little by little, not only did everyone else begin to appreciate that, but she began to see it in herself as well.

Very few moments were as precious to me as watching her come down the stairs on Christmas morning and see presents under the tree, realizing there was a pile for her stacked there as well.

It was like seeing the wonder in a little kid’s eyes for the first time.

I mean, she’d sobbed into my chest for a solid ten minutes right after, but even that was special. Because if I knew anyone who deserved to feel the joy of Christmas with loved ones, it was Ama.

On top of all of that, I also got to see her with the kids. Sure, I’d seen her at the clinic, deftly calming the fears of sick kids who didn’t want a throat swab or to get stitches. But at the clubhouse, I got to see her sitting cross-legged on the floor playing cars or dolls, healing that inner child within her that rarely got the chance to play.

I’d gone with them when she got a plan to bring them to the bookstore to buy them books and instill in them her love of reading.

I’d never really had that strong urge to reproduce before. But to see Ama with kids? Fuck yeah, I wanted to make babies with her.

A couple of kids with her eyes, her smile, her brains? I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than that.

But before I could do that with her, I needed to create a little more stability for us.

Which was why Teddy had been taking me out with his real estate agent to try to find the right place for us to settle down.

The goal was somewhere between the clubhouse and the clinic, but a bit of land, and in a nice area. Because Ama and I? We were going to break all the cycles that we could. Good area, big family, stability, lots of fucking love, and a safe space for them to get to actually be kids, since Ama and I never had that chance.

“It’s a good investment,” Teddy told me, nodding at me as we stood in the house I’d decided on. It was a three-bedroom cracker-style house built only six months ago.

It had a front porch I knew Ama would love, and just a big enough yard to fit some play equipment for kids, and space to run around for a dog if we ever got one.

It wasn’t huge, but would be big enough for us.

Unlike Huck and some of the OG guys, I didn’t see us having a whole litter of kids. One or two, three max.

It didn’t escape me that it would be the first time in Ama’s entire life that she wouldn’t live in an apartment building.

“Yeah?” I asked, still a bit anxious about such a big purchase. Even though, as predicted, our income had tripled since going into business with Zayn.

“Absolutely,” Teddy assured me. “If you can afford it, real estate is a sound investment. “This is a good area. The schools are good. The house is new, so maintenance should be minimal. This is the right next step for you.”

Teddy, in a way, was like a father figure for a lot of us, even though he wasn’t that much older than us. I think growing up wealthy had given him a lot of opportunities at a young age that some of us never got a chance to experience, which gave him a lot of worldliness and wisdom.

Besides, the man owned like half of Florida. If he said that the house was a smart move, he was someone to listen to.

“Now you just need to get that woman a ring,” he said, giving me a look before moving back toward his waiting car.

I’d been working on the ring for a long time.

See, Ama and I had walked down to the beach early one morning after my dad had beat the shit out of me while my mom cheered him on. I sat there, staring off at the waves, while Ama prattled on endlessly, trying to get through to me, trying to distract me from my shitty home life.

And, somehow, she was on a tangent about how boring her teacher’s new engagement ring was.

“I think the perfect ring should be the color of the ocean,” she’d declared, smiling off at it. “And it shouldn’t be round or square. It should be that long rectangle one.”

“Emerald,” I’d supplied, knowing random shit about jewelry from having to hock shit to buy food to eat, so I was always hearing the guy at the pawn shop talking about rings.

“Yeah, emerald,” she agreed. “Because it looks fancier. Then it should have something personal. Like your favorite flower or animal,” she decided, being very sure of herself at all of twelve years old. “And then it should have a quote on the inside.”

“What kind of quote?”

“The romantic kind. Remember? Like that one I shared with you from Beethoven to his ‘Eternal Beloved.’”

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