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“That’s awful. You should’ve had a father who delighted in you and told you how special you are.”
That concept is as foreign to me as learning Greek, but I love that my girl is calling out my father’s shitty behavior. I know she’ll be a great mom.
Holy shit. Did I just think that?I’m not nearly as shocked as I thought I would be. Having kids with Sonya feels natural. Of course we’re going to have a family together.
“You should’ve had a father who did the same,” I counter. “Not some asshole who physically assaulted you because his religion dictated he had to.”
Sonya nods, her eyes softening. “We’ll be better parents than them,” she whispers.
I smile, loving that we’re already on the same page.
“So, what happened after fourth grade? You said you made it that far without talking to your dad much.”
I take a deep breath, trying to put all the pieces together for her. “The summer after fourth grade, my dad met his first wife. She was even less excited about me than my old man, and I guess they decided I was mature enough to take care of myself. My dad moved in with Cynthia and left me in our apartment. He stopped by once a week to drop off food and supplies, but he was done with me.”
“That’s awful,” Sonya whispers.
I shrug and look up at the ceiling. I haven’t thought about that summer in a long time.
“Honestly, that was probably the happiest time of my childhood. After the divorce, my dad moved back in and started drinking. His next wife only married him because he bought all the alcohol she could drink, which, unsurprisingly, ended horribly. Wife number three was bat-shit crazy. Any little thing would set her off, and when she was upset, she screeched like a damn banshee. After one particularly terrible fight, my father was left with a black eye and a broken nose. She never came back, and that was that.”
“How many times was your dad married?”
“Seven. No, eight. No, I don’t know if he married Lillian or if they just lived together. About seven or eight, but I’m sure that number is in the double digits by now. Moved out of that chaos when I was sixteen. Dropped out of school, hit the streets, and found myself running around with thugs and criminals. Eventually, I found Savage Saints and started hanging around as much as possible. Technically, I was too young to patch in, but they let it slide. Since then, the club has been my whole life.
Sonya sits up, leaning over me as her blue eyes capture mine. “I’m so proud of you for choosing your own path. You know you deserved better than the parents you had, right?” she asks me, her voice clear and strong.
God, she’s beautiful.“You did, too,” I remind her. “You deserved a family who loved and accepted you, who supported you instead of abusing you and tearing you down.”
She smiles sadly but nods, her delicate hand cupping my cheek. “We’ll be better for each other.”
“We’ll support each other,” I add.
“And comfort each other.”
“And love each other.”
Sonya looks up at me, her eyes filling with tears. Shit, I thought she would be happy about–
“You love me?” comes her whispered response. She looks like she doesn’t quite believe it.
“Is it too soon to say that?” My heart races, hoping I haven’t fucked everything up again.
“I don’t know, but I… I love you, too.”
The tightness in my chest releases, and I let out a relieved sigh. “Thank fuck.”
Sonya giggles, and I take the opportunity to flip her on her back and tickle her.
“Blade! Oh, my gosh!” Sonya squeals and tries to wiggle away from me, but I pin her down and rub my stubble over the smooth skin of her stomach. She writhes and laughs as she pushes me away.
I fall to my side, gathering my woman up in my arms. “I love you,” I whisper, kissing her forehead.
“I love you, too,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to mine.
Our sweet moment is interrupted by my phone. We both groan, but Sonya rolls away and grabs my phone from the nightstand, tossing it at me.
“I’ll get dressed, and you can take me to work?” she asks as she hops off the bed, completely naked.
