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“Not for you to worry about, babe. I’ll deal with it,” he says, then gives me a tap on the leg to get me to move. I get off him. He stands and pulls me up and then we begin walking back to the cabin with his cum running down my legs.
“Let’s go shower. There’s one more thing I want to show you,” he tells me as soon as we step inside the cabin. He looks a little nervous but I don’t say anything, just follow his lead. He can’t kill anyone else, right?
Once we’re done showering and are dressed, he takes me outside. Right in front of the porch, a little to the right side, is a gorgeous flower bed that I never really paid too much attention to.
He walks us over to it and kneels on the ground, pulling me along with him. He wraps an arm around me as he bends forward a little and pulls the piece of cloth away from the front. I thought it was a sign but when I read it, I’m instantly overwhelmed as tears begin to flow down my cheeks. Uncontrollable sobs rack my body as I wail.
“Don’t cry, baby. I did this so you can heal and move on but also so that we’ll never forget. You’re not the only one who was torn up about the miscarriage. I have some healing to do as well,” he tells me as he wipes the tears from my cheeks.
“It hurts so much,” I whimper and his hold on me tightens.
“We weren’t ready but someday we will be. None of this was your fault. Not what they did to you or what happened to the baby. I won’t love you any less. This is one of the steps in your journey. Face it, deal with it, and then overcome it,” he tells me.
I look back down at the little square sign that reads…
Our little angel,
We weren’t ready for you.
But you’ll always be a part of us.
Love Mommy and Daddy.
I trace a hand across the letters and a ray of light shines down on the little square and on my hand. It may not all be fine now but somehow, I know it will be. I have a little guardian angel after all, don’t I?
“I love you,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the side of my head.
“I love you too,” I whisper back.
Epilogue
KNOX
“Come here, you little squirt!”I growl out as I chase behind my little demon. I swear to God she was put onto this earth to test every bit of my patience. Oh, and to punish me for all the shit I did to her mother when I first met her.
“No!” my daughter squeals as I hear her little feet running.
I catch up to her little ass in the hallway of our apartment and groan at the mess I’ll have to clean up.
“What did you do to your brother and yourself, little miss?” I question.
“Dada!” she squeals, giving me her best innocent look. The one that’s all princess about her and the one that gets her away with shit. She doesn’t know it yet but when I look at her, how the hell can I stay mad?
“Why are you and your brother messy with syrup?” I grumble under my breath.
“Mama,” she coos.
“Mama isn’t home yet. Let’s go get you and your brother clean before Mama murders me when she gets home,” I mumble. She just coos some baby gibberish at me, carrying on as I walk back into the kitchen with her in my arms.
My son sees me as soon as I enter the kitchen and he starts cooing as well, lifting his arm up because he wants to be picked up. I grab him up into my other arm, their stickiness soaking into my shirt. I groan while they continue babbling away at each other.
Twins… who would have thought we’d have twins the second time my girl got pregnant? Not me for sure.
When we finally left the cabin, we came to New York. It’s one of the places Raine loves so we made the move to the city. We live in the penthouse of the building I own and life has been settling since we made the move.
I can’t believe it’s been four years already. When we got here, we continued with her routine and her studying. She passed her GED classes and got into one of the top art schools in New York. She even continued with the therapist I got for her while we were at the cabin. My girl has grown and evolved.
She’s now confident and gives my ass hell when she feels like it. I knocked her ass up in her second year of school and we’ve been busy ever since. Thank God she’s graduating in a month though.
