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“I-I can’t promise I won’t make mistakes,” I stammered, almost ashamed of the weakness of my confession.
She laid a hand on my cheek and smiled up at me tenderly. “But you can promise to learn from them,” she said softly.
I nodded slowly, knowing that this was something I could do at least; I could try to learn how to be the best father that I could possibly be—for our little one, but also for her.
“I believe in you,” she whispered against my lips, her breath soft and sweet like the dawning of a new day.
Her words were a balm to my worries. I wanted more than anything to make her proud of me as a man and a father.
She kissed me then, like no other kiss before—a kiss that promised me strength, that promised me courage, that promised me undying love.
Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
I held the sonogram, staring adoringly at…well…I wasn’t exactly sure what I was staring at. A baby, apparently.
A baby girl.
“Pink. Everything in this room has to be pink,” August said while looking around the nursery.
Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought you wanted to paint a mural of Christine on the wall?”
“That’s only one wall, Leo. We have six others that need decorating, too,” August scoffed.
Atticus wrapped his arms around me and peered over my shoulder at the sonogram. “She has my nose,” he murmured in my ear.
“I don’t even know where her nose is,” I admitted with a laugh.
He chuckled. “Me neither. But it seemed like the right thing to say.”
I let Leo and August bicker about crib safety ratings while I spun around to face him. Atticus was doing a lot better and was moving around more. He even tortured a few of the men still loyal to his dead father, though he needed some help from Eva, who was all too happy to get her hands dirty. She was a bloodthirsty little thing.
“How was work?” I asked.
“Busy. I think I finally have a solid group of men again. A lot of them like the direction of the business since I got a new arms dealer. Lots of cash. Money makes men loyal.”
“Nothing is working!” August shouted, making all of us look at him. “This room doesn’t have enough natural light. Natural light is very important for babies. And how am I supposed to have a rocking chair for each of us in here if there isn’t enough room?”
I released Atticus to walk over to August. “We don’t all need a rocking chair,” I said softly.
His face twisted up. “Yes, we do. We all need a place to sit for bedtime stories.”
I knew that August was determined to be a better father than his own, but it was making him crazy. “We’ll figure something out,” I promised him.
“Nothing about this castle is good enough for our baby, Christine,” he said before crossing his arms over his chest.
I didn’t like being in this castle any more than he did, but this was our only option.
Leo cleared his throat. “I think the room is perfect. It’s across the hall from us—”
“No,” August said. “It’s not good enough. Come with me.”
August wrapped his hand around my wrist and carefully tugged on my arm, coaxing me to follow him out of the room.
“August. Where are we going?” I asked.
Leo tried to hide his smile behind his hand, and Atticus licked his lips.
