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I could do this, right? I’d done scarier things in my life.
Carefully, I lowered myself to sit on the edge of the bed, then laid woodenly on my back beside Tarryn. They were both on their sides, facing me, with Valor her backrest, an arm draped protectively around her waist.His hand was splayed over her lower abdomen, possessive. They were so comfortable together.
I always thought of myself as the more neurotypical brother, but I had as much trouble with physical affection as Severin.
He was learning, though, because he wanted to.
That meant I could, too, right?
My fingers were still laced with Tarryn’s, and I rested our hands on my chest. She fitted herself along my side, pressing her warm body against mine. She sighed in contentment, sandwiched between us.
Her warmth and proximity felt odd, but it didn’t make me want to chew off my arm to get away. I wasn’t cuddling, really, but I was allowing myself to be cuddled against.
Lying next to the two of them gradually shifted to feeling like the three of us were lyingtogether. It was a small distinction, and yet it felt like my world was evolving.
This was everything I’d ever wanted.
I didn’t trust it to last, but for now, it was a painful ecstasy.
Chapter Nineteen: Valor
I taped another box shut and added it to the shortest stack in the living room. Although I was tired, it was a good tired.
Fuck the life I’d built in California.
I was going to live with myfamily.
The word still felt surreal.
Of course, a couple could be a family, but with Loïc, and now the baby? It would be a group of us, rather than two. Other people around to think about. To care about. The bustle of a busy house.
Before I’d gone into care, it had only been me and Mom, who’d had to work a lot to keep us housed and fed. After Mom died, I’d gone to a respite foster home once between group homes. It had only been a weekend, but ever since then, I’d dreamed of having that same warmth, humor, and pandemonium as my own, someday.
I’d bought this house thinking that eventually Tarryn would join me in California. Like a jerk, I’d taken her for granted, assuming she’d follow me the way she always had. I’d applied for and accepted the promotion without even telling her, and she hadn’t uttered a word of complaint, only congratulated me and started packing.
Rose Red and Loïc Leduc had taught me to see her as the amazing, independent woman she’d grown into. She didn’t need me, but she still chose me. I was going to work harder at deserving her.
Living apart had been a game of chicken, and I’d lost. For once in my life, losing at something was a reward.
I’d sold this house without a pang of regret.
I’d handed in my resignation at work like a lovestruck fool from a movie. They’d offered me more money, and I’d turned them down without a moment’s consideration.
I was moving back to Prague to be with my wife and child, and with the man who’d attempted to ruin our marriage, then ended up mixed into it, like salt in hot coffee. He most certainly wasn’t sweet enough to be sugar. It felt like I’d been persuaded to like him through a combination of Stockholm Syndrome and insidious charm.
Although I was excited to see what the future would hold, without my ambition and my work, I wasn’t sure who I was. Sure, I was Tarryn’s husband, but I didn’t have any use—any value. We’d been discussing me staying home with the baby so she wouldn’t have to bring them to work, but the idea of doing that terrified the fuck out of me. I was sure I could figure out how to take care of a baby—even if it had Loïc’s wild genetics rather than mine. But could I still be the same man as a stay-at-home father?
I felt like the stories people told about workaholics who retired and promptly died.
For my entire life, the only thing I’d wanted, besides Tarryn, was to be successful, and preferably rich, so we wouldn’t be at the mercy of other people. Even though I was only in my late twenties, I had more money than young Valor had ever hoped for. Between the money I’d already made, and the investments Rodrigo had set us up with, I could afford to retire now, as long as I wasn’t extravagant. Without this reality check, how long would Ihave worked myself into the ground? How much money would have felt like enough?
I paced, dropping things haphazardly into boxes. Who cared if this shit broke anyway? I’d only decorated for her, and we’d buy new things for our new house.
Amused at the pointlessness of packing inexpensive decorations with no sentimental value, I tossed a $12 vase against the brick fireplace. The smash was so satisfying, I threw an ugly glass trinket dish next.
My phone buzzed, then buzzed again.
I jogged over to it, glad for the distraction.
