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I loved him deeper than I ever thought I’d be able to, and he stood by my side through anything.
Receiving the letter that my father had passed away and breaking down despite him being the monster that he was.
Thorn held me as I told him the true story of my mother’s death and made it all better when I cried and sobbed into the next morning.
He was the one who brought home flowers, and ice cream, and all kinds of treats when I got pregnant.
He was the one who held me when I lost the baby, convinced I’d done something wrong, convinced I was cursed.
He did it again the second time around.
This was our third attempt, and I was in my last trimester. This time, the doctor assured us nothing would go wrong. Only a week or so left and I would have a happy, healthy baby boy in my arms.
Still, Thorn babied me, making sure I was safe, warm and well-fed at all times. His deep caring for me brought us closer, and I found myself falling in love with him all over again. He was gentle with me when I was pregnant, careful not to hurt me or the baby. We made love more often than we fucked, and every single time, he turned me into an emotional mess. How he handled those months, I’ll never know.
But now our bright future lay mere days ahead. Just the wedding to get through and I’d be admitted to a private hospital in a few days, when my due date came up – since I was a high-risk pregnancy, they wanted to make sure everything happened supervised.
The wedding was in New York though, and it filled me with curiosity. I still remembered the raven-haired girl who’d tried to help me escape the Mansion once, and now I knew her name was Ophelia, and she had invited Thorn and me to her wedding in the city.
Perhaps this was my chance of making my new friend.
Thorn seemed convinced of the idea and told me as much as he knew about my mysterious former friend. I told him how she’d tried to help me, and though he wasn’t pleased, he said he understood her desire to keep me safe.
On the ride to the church, I held Thorn’s hand and he stroked my baby bump.
“Rose,” he said gently. “Are you happy?”
I looked at him. at his handsome chiseled face, which I’d fallen in love with and that still made my heart race after all this time. At his stubble that drove me crazy when it scratched up my skin. At his gorgeous eyes, and the way he held me, at the love plainly visible in his eyes that told me he would never let go, and I would always, always belong to him.
“I am,” I whispered. “Are you?”
“More than ever,” he replied without a pause, grinning wickedly. “Now let’s go show ourselves at this wedding so I can make love to you one last time before my son is born.”
“Your son?” I giggled. “Isn’t he ours?”
He grabbed my chin and pulled me closer, whispering against my lips.
“What’s yours belongs to me, sweet little Rose… Just like you do.”
