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My bladder is thankful for the relief. Before leaving the bathroom I take a moment to explore the contours of my belly. The maternity clothes I ordered online will come in handy real soon.
Micah is still sound asleep in the bedroom. I’m tempted to crawl back into bed with him even if I’m not tired. Instead, I pull one of his immense hooded sweatshirts over my nightie and pad down to the kitchen. I’ll make breakfast, fill the house with the smell of baking cinnamon rolls.
Conner is home but he tends to sleep late. He’ll be glad to wake up to hot food. Every day he reminds us that he hopes we’ll stay. There’s a bedroom across the hall from ours that will be turned into the perfect nursery. Although the day may come when we might cramp Conner’s style and move on, for now we’re all content to stay here together and enjoy being a family.
Micah and I plan to get married but we’ve decided to wait until after our baby is born. He was amused to see me jump at his mother’s offer to throw us a wedding. I would marry Micah anytime, anywhere, but Matilda is thrilled that she gets to help plan the event. And maybe it’s silly, but I can’t deny that I appreciate being fussed over.
When we do marry, I’ll be taking Micah’s name. I don’t want to be a Ballerini anymore.
The man who is my real father is now in prison. He’ll be there for a long time. The history of the Ballerini brothers has been examined far more closely, uncovering a litany of crimes. For decades Josh was the enforcer of Stuart’s schemes. Josh has denied nothing. He spilled his guts with something close to relief.
I’ll never be able to fully untangle or understand the relationship between the brothers. They were the men who raised me. All those years I never suspected that I was living among monsters.
As Micah would say, it really fucks with your head.
Last night Dani and Gage were over here. We all sat around the backyard firepit for hours, a scene of love and friendship and deep, indestructible bonds.
Conner was a little drunk when he got to his feet and raised his half empty beer bottle in the air. “Always the rejects but an honor to be rejects together.” He lowered his bottle and grinned at the sight of me curled up in Micah’s lap. “And you are ours now, Tessie. One of us.”
It was one of those moments when you know a good memory is being made and you’re already looking forward to summoning it in the future.
Now I’m smiling as I slide the first batch of cinnamon rolls into the wall oven.
I ought to take advantage of the quiet house and haul out my laptop to get some work done. I have a new client who is looking to buy a home in this neighborhood and I want to send her a batch of listings to consider. I’ve also been helping Micah manage his new graphic design website. His outstanding talent is already in high demand.
Normally I love work. Sometimes I love it a little too much. This morning, however, I’m not in a productive mood. I just want to look out the window at the sunlight playing on the surface of the pool water and daydream about the years ahead.
This is what I’m doing when my hair is pushed to the side. Micah kisses my neck. As always, I lean into him automatically. He curls his arm around my middle, pausing to deliver a loving pat to my belly.
Every touch from him is a thrill. Every single one.
The oven timer dings and I plant a quick kiss on his lips before rescuing my cinnamon rolls from the heat.
Micah has already become very adept when it comes to doing things with one hand. He often wraps his arm in a black sleeve, self-conscious about the way it ends in nothing. He doesn’t have it wrapped today and I’m glad.
Micah starts the coffee and makes me a mug of green tea while I transfer the rolls to plates. Three plates, because I know Conner will be roused any minute by the smell of food.
Sure enough, I’ve hardly taken a sip of tea in Micah’s lap before Conner’s bare feet shuffle down the hall.
He rubs his eyes and cracks a yawn. “You made me breakfast.”
“I sure did. Sit down with us.”
He pours himself a cup of coffee. “How’s baby Conner?”
Micah snorts. “How many times are you going to make me break your heart with the news that we arenotnaming the baby Conner?”
“Besides,” I remind him, “the baby might be a girl.”
Conner considers that fact while he shoves an entire roll into his mouth. He drops crumbs everywhere. “Okay, Conner can be a girl.”
I watch Conner Wiseman shovel food into his mouth like a bear. Good thing I made two trays of cinnamon rolls or there would be nothing left.
“Are you coming with us today?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t want to make it weird.”
I turn my head to look at Micah. He shrugs.
