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He tilts my face to him, laying a gentle kiss on my lips. His dark eyes scan my entire face with so much tenderness I may melt in his protective embrace.
“You’re here,” I whisper through my tears.
Maceo swallows hard. “Never left you, baby.” He kisses me again more firmly, his lips coaxing me to open to him.
Eagerly, I oblige. Maceo slants his mouth, deepening the kiss, and groaning into my mouth.
And just like that, all my broken pieces are glued back together.
When he breaks the kiss, he leans his forehead against mine, panting. “I love you.”
Brushing the droplets from my eyes, I smile. “I love you more.”
“I love you most.”
“Impossible,” I say vehemently. “I loved you first.”
“I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you on the trail,” he says with a giddy laugh, his tears spilling down his face. “And I saw you first; therefore, I loved you first, loved you longer, love you more.”
Oh, my tender heart might give out from all his sweetness.
“You just have to outdo me, don’t you?”
Maceo cups my cheek in his big hand. “You are my heart, my soul, my world. You’re my everything.”
He kisses me again, but we’re quickly interrupted by a little whimper. Maceo looks down in my arms and cries all over again. “Our babies,” he chokes in a raw voice.
“Easton Maceo whimpers,” I explain as I nod at our second born. “And Cruz Antonio wails—I named him after your dad and Tony.”
Maceo stares at his sons in complete awe. “Our boys.”
“Come.” I scoot over in the bed, making room for him.
Maceo goes to move in the bed and stops abruptly. He goes to the sink against the wall, scrubbing his hands and arms. He returns and squeezes into the bed, snug against my side.
“Take Cruz. He’s the one with a little more curl in his hair.”
Maceo bites his bottom lip, his brows pulled together in concentration. He supports Cruz’s tiny head and body in his hand, lifting him from my lap. His face relaxes in wonder as he pulls his son against his chest. Maceo looks at me with more tears spilling down his dirty, chiseled face.
Smiling, I place Easton in his other arm, tucking the baby into his father’s embrace. My husband’s eyes travel back and forth between our boys. He leans forward and kisses the crowns of their heads before breaking into harsh sobs.
I wrap my arms around my husband, staring at our babies. “Cruz. Easton. Meet yourpapá.”
* * *
We spent one more night in the hospital, more for Maceo to be examined for his injuries. I wept when I saw what Esteban did to my husband’s back. Maceo kissed me and promised he was okay before giving me some bogus line about how scars add to his badass level. Typical Maceo—always having to be a tough guy.
Piero sent a charter jet to take the entire crew, plus his men, home.
I try to sit in the seat next to Maceo, but he pulls me onto his lap.
“Need to feel you at all times,” he says in a husky voice as he nuzzles my neck and breathes me in.
Maceo’s been extremely affectionate since coming back to us, more than usual. I’m not complaining. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t believe I’m going to be able to let him out of my sight for quite a while. I take advantage of his close proximity, leaning into his chest to kiss over his shirt where my lips are tattooed on his skin.
Tony sits across the aisle from us with both the twins resting on his massive chest. He’s like an oversized grizzly bear. The twins love snuggling into him.
Punk sits in the seat behind him and asks, “Can I have one?”
