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That and she was getting tired. She was also getting sore and uncomfortable, and even though she was stubborn as all fuck, she knew it was time for her to take off.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t at the bakery almost every day. But it did mean she wasn’t there quite so early, and she wasn’t on her feet all fucking day running around after other people.
She was also doing something I think they called ‘nesting.’ Which I figured out just meant a bunch of packages arriving at the house and me putting the various items together. Then she would spend an hour deciding where to put things only to change her mind ten minutes later.
The nursery was done. In my eyes, at least. There was a crib, a changing table, a rocking chair by the window. Rugs, clothes neatly put away in the closet. Never mind that the baby would be sleeping in the bassinet in our room for the first months of her life anyway. But you couldn’t tell Fiona that.
Her Green Card had come and made it clear what I’d known for fucking months—this marriage had nothing to do with a visa and everything to do with the fact that I couldn’t live without her. That she was my wife in every single way, and she would be my wife until the day I fucking died. And I would be fucking dying first.
It was a strange transition because itwasn’tstrange. I’d vowed to never marry again, never care about a woman again, and sure as fuck to never have a kid again. But it felt… natural. Like this shit was meant to be or whatever.
Things were pretty fucking great if you asked me.
Sure, there were a fair few wolves scratching at my door, and some nights, when Fiona was sleeping wrapped up in her fucking pregnancy pillow, I let them in. Because I had to. Barring that fucking door was what almost cost me my second chance.
So, I had to let them in.
Not just the wolves but Gabbie and Evelyn.
The way she had smiled at me on our wedding day. The way she hid behind her hands if movies got too scary.
And the way I didn’t have nearly as many memories as I should’ve because I was gone so fucking often.
Then the hardest ones. The ones I wanted to bury but had to let in.
The smell of my daughter’s head. The weight of her in my arms. Her small hands grasping my finger. The feeling of the world tilting, the axis changing.
Then the severing of that axis, feeling listless, empty, scooped out from the inside. It was much easier remembering the pain of losing her than the joy of having her.
But I did it.
For Fiona. For our daughter.
For me.
And for Gabbie and Evelyn, because they deserved that.
I’d be forever fucked-up, but I had healed as much as I ever would because of my wife. Because of my daughter growing in her belly.
And now I felt ready to be torn back into that hell with his single phone call.
“He’s in the country?” I clarified, leaping into my truck.
“Yeah, he entered a couple of days ago—”
“Days!” I roared, my heart thundering. “Why in the fuck are you just telling me now?”
“The alert got lost on my desk. I wasn’t in the office, and a fucking intern didn’t know the info was urgent. My fucking fault.” He sounded appropriately guilty. “But really, what are the chances this guy is here for your wife? It’s been a long time since they were married. I doubt he’s been holding a grudge for that long.”
I screeched out of the parking lot. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for the heads-up,” I muttered, hanging up.
Gus might’ve been right. It had been a long time since Fiona was married to that asshole. But he was also an asshole who married Fiona. And she was special. One of a kind. And she got away from him. That burn was never going to be salved. Especially with a man like that.
And even if he had let go of that shit, I hadn’t. Sure, I didn’t fly over there and end his life, as tempting as that had been. But I didn’t let shit lie. Because I wasn’t that kind of man.
I’d found out a lot of info through both legitimate and illegitimate means. Emmet Landon had a bunch of shady dealings going on. Yeah, he was from a wealthy family and had access to money that most people would only ever dream of, but he was also a stupid fuck. He spent that money faster than it came in. With trips, houses, failed businesses, gambling. So, he’d gotten into some shady business dealings. Fraud. Embezzlement. Shit that could ruin his life.
And if I wasn’t going to kill the fuck, then I sure as shit was going to ruin his life.
