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The car rolls forward, and he places it in neutral and revs it, sending the same humming vibration through the seat. I feel it. The baby feels it, and it’s soothing. The baby pokes me again once it stops.
I smile and rub my stomach. “The baby likes it. He likes it, Lane.”
He smiles, places his hand on my stomach, and does it again. There is a slight poke in my stomach, and Lane’s eyes widen. He brakes. “Did you feel that!”
I giggle. “Yes, Lane. I felt it.”
“That’s amazing,” he says. “He likes it.”
“Like his daddy,” I tell him.
He helps me out of the car, and I look over to see a one-story house that looks like a celebrity mansion.
“Whose house is this?”
“It’s our house. I bought it because you didn’t like the other one except for the gas lighting. This house has cameras and security. It’s a fortress. No one can come in, and the baby will be safe here. I also made sure that there were no stairs. So you would be more comfortable. I also hired a driver, so you don’t have to drive yourself. He will take you anywhere you wish to go.”
My brows rise. “You thought of everything, huh? How can you pay for all this, Lane?”
He snorts, and the door opens and an older lady named Kate greets me. “Welcome, Mrs. Turner.”
My head whips to Lane, but he entwines his fingers through mine. “To everyone, you are Mrs. Turner.”
“But I’m?—”
“You are, and you will be… Mrs. Turner.”
He gives me a tour of the house. There is a huge area rug in the living area. There is also another one in the bedroom so the baby can crawl and not hurt himself. He already has the house baby proofed. He thought of everything. There is a massage chair in the room and nonslip tiles on the bathroom floor. It is the most extravagant house I have ever set foot in besides the St. Claire home. The St. Claire home is luxurious but cold. This home is decorated with warm touches.
No sharp objects or edges could harm a small child anywhere in this house. The white granite is rounded everywhere it is placed, and the kitchen is stocked. There is nothing to do except relax.
He shows me to the main bedroom and opens the closet to reveal a large section of maternity wear and rows of designer shoes, including dress shoes, sandals, and designer sneakers. There is a large overcoat. I rub my hand over the rich texture of the brown coat. There is a black one next to it.
“That was Exie,” he says, pointing at the closet.
“She loves designer stuff, and she wanted you to dress in style.”
Exie and I kept in touch after I moved out of the other home. She said she would kill Lane, but I always made excuses for not calling her like I should. I was upset at Lane, and she was starting college and a new life. Lane refused to take over his parents’ company, leaving it up to Exie.
My shifts at the diner were in the evening, and I could not be on the phone. During the day, I was sleeping in the early morning, and in the afternoon, I would continue to fulfill as many orders as I could. I needed the money. Our schedules didn’t align. She offered to help me out. She offered me money, but I refused. She sighed and let it go because it was what I wanted.
I glance at Lane and feel the need to apologize for slapping him. It wasn’t right, and I’m not prone to violence, but I was hurt. My hormones were raging. I was stressed and felt cornered.
“I’m sorry I slapped you the other night. I was upset with you.”
“You had every right to feel that way.” He pulls me toward him. “I was wrong for leaving you like that. I’m sorry. Please stay and be my wife. I promise to always take care of you, but you have to promise to leave the diner. My pregnant wife cannot work in a diner as hard as I work.” He shakes his head. “I can’t allow it.”
I laugh as happy tears stream down my face and fan myself. “Yes,” I say. “A thousand times, yes!” He lowers his gaze and places the palm of his hand on my belly. “What are we going to name him?”
“Lane Jr.,” I say.
Lane’s eyes lift with pride in his expression. “I like it. I want to call him LJ Turner for short.” I smile. “But my favorite is calling you Aura Turner.” His throat moves when he swallows. “I’ll always love you, Aura. You’re the air I breathe.”
27
AURA
Five Years Later
