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After the attempt on her life, rather than punish me, Renata thanked me. She told me knowing I’d do anything to save my family gave her peace and she respected me greatly.
We get into the car together, our bags tossed haphazardly into the trunk. Heath and Anna sit in the back, Willow and I take the middle seats, and Knox is too busy fumbling for something to say to Natalia before he climbs into the front. A part of me thinks he might just leave without getting a word in, but before he does, Natalia grasps him by the chin and presses a hard kiss to his lips.
“Call me,” she says with a flirtatious wink, tucking a scrap of paper into his front pocket.
Knox, my little brother and certified pain in the ass, is at a loss for words. He has no sharp retort, no snide comment. He’s too busy blushing like a schoolgirl to do anything but nod dumbly.
Maybe Natalia is the perfect match for him. Someone has to keep him in line.
Before we know it, we’re off. Exhaustion lingers heavily in the air. Nobody has to say anything. I can tell how eager we all are to get home.
* * *
I do end up buying her that house, deep within the evergreen forests of the Pacific Northwest. The property comes with at least fifty acres—plenty of room for us to expand and build and let the little ones play. The first thing we do when we’re officially handed the keys and our movers are done carrying in all of our furniture is christen the bed.
We make love that night, tender and soft and quiet. I savor every moment, every detail. From the gentle curl of her hair to her sweet sighs to the taste of her lips and the feel of her body pressed against me. We move together as one, unhurried in our pursuit of pleasure. Willow and I have all the time in the world now. Nobody is after us. We’ve finally managed to carve out a little slice of paradise all for ourselves.
I lose count of how many times I make her unravel. Every languid moan, every intimate touch, every caress blends into one. I’m obsessed with my wife, obsessed with making her feel ten times as good as she does for me. I know with each kiss she gifts me that I’m a lucky man. Every moment spent with her is a blessing I can’t even begin to repay her for.
“I love you,” I whisper across her lips.
“I love you, too,” she murmurs back with a smile.
We lie together, surrounded by fluffy pillows and soft blankets in the quiet hours of the morning, nothing better to do than stare deeply into each other’s eyes. I run my hands over her belly, rounder than it was a few weeks ago, warmed by the gentle glow of sunlight streaming in through the curtains.
“Well, husband,” Willow hums happily, curling up against my chest. “What are our plans today?”
“I’ve got a lot scheduled,” I admit, pressing a light flurry of kisses against the top of her hair. “I was thinking we’d start off with breakfast in bed, then we’d watch some TV, maybe go set up your library.”
She beams up at me. “Really?”
“I spent the whole day yesterday shopping for books. They should be arriving sometime today.”
“And then what?” she asks, her giddy joy so contagious I can’t help but reflect her smile.
I shrug casually. “A whole lot of nothing.”
Willow kisses me sweetly. “A whole lot of nothing… I love the sound of that.”
Chapter 39
Willow
Christmas is officially my favorite time of year. I was never really allowed to celebrate before. No big pine tree, no ornaments, no gifts. The Allegras, the Becerras, the Marrones… Holiday celebrations like this probably didn’t mean very much to them. But the Phillips Family?
They go hard for Christmas.
Zane let me pick out the tree, a beautiful tall pine I found on the corner of our homestead. He chopped it down himself and brought it inside. I could suddenly imagine him twenty years younger in that mountain town, dressed in black and white plaid with an axe slung over his shoulder. Our house is decorated from top to bottom in tinsel and wreaths and sparkling ornaments. There’s glitter everywhere, but I don’t mind the slightest.
Sitting atop our mantle are the season's greetings cards sent all the way from Mexico from Renata, as well as one from Anna down in Florida. Heath and Darlene are busy helping me in the kitchen with turkey, while Knox and Natalia—who I must say make a very handsome couple—are in the living room with Zane keeping an eye on the twins.
Marcus and Leo are fast asleep, lulled by the twinkling lights wrapped around the Christmas tree and soft Christmas music playing on the TV speakers. We don’t actually have a chimney, but it was Heath’s idea to put a looping image of a crackling fire on the screen. It may not smell like a Yule log, but it certainly feels just as warm and cozy.
A mountain of wrapped Christmas presents sits just under the tree, ranging from small to large to extra-large. Heath and Knox may or may not have gone a little overboard with spoiling their nephews, but something tells me no matter how much I was going to protest, they would have done it anyway.
“I’m thinking of going with Cher,” Darlene says, browsing through one of my many baby name books I loaned her earlier. Her belly is swollen, her little girl expected to arrive within the next three or so months.
“Cher?” Heath laughs from the kitchen. “Like the singer? I don’t know about that one, babe.”
