And that trust crushes me with its softness.
She curls into my chest, legs tucked against mine, her face pressed over my heart like she’s trying to memorize its rhythm.
I hold her tighter than I should, burying my face in her hair, inhaling cinnamon and vanilla and something purely her.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “I’ve got both of you.”
Her hand settles over her stomach.
And I swear something inside me vows itself all over again.
Chapter 14
Safe, Loved, Whole
Christmas Day
When I open my eyes, the room is soft and dim, washed in the faint gray-blue glow of early snow light. Fat flakes drift past the window, slow and dreamy, like the world is trying to be gentle for once.
Santo isn’t next to me.
I huff, throwing the blankets off me about to shout at the camera about how I hate when he leaves me to wake alone, when the door opens.
He strides in, shirtless, but still in the matching pajama bottoms.
I love how he indulges me.
In his hands is a tray piled with pastries, fruit, and two mugs of cocoa.
My mouth falls open. “Breakfast in bed?”
He smirks. “Yes.”
I stare at the tray, then at him. “You want crumbs in your precious sheets?”
One dark brow lifts. “Today I do.”
I blink. “…Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”
He huffs a soft laugh and sets the tray on the nightstand next to me. “Eat, Dea.”
His eyes are molten, staring at me as if my soft pajamas aren’t wrinkled and my hair isn’t a mess.
He looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
I take a bite of a warm croissant just to tease him, letting a flake fall onto the blanket deliberately.
He pretends not to notice.
That’s how I know he’s in a frighteningly good mood.
He settles beside me, sliding an arm behind my waist and pulling me into his side like he’s magnetized. His lips brush the top of my head.
“Ready for presents, Dea?” he murmurs against my temple.
My heart flutters. I nod eagerly. “Yes! Let’s do you first.”
But he shakes his head, a faint nervousness flickering under the surface. “No. Yours first.”
