Beau placidly released my hand, laying his lips on the inside of my palm. I was still getting used to his casual, tender gestures. They still awakened butterflies in my stomach, made my skin warm.
I still had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t in some kind of incredibly intricate dream or drug-induced hallucination.
“First, I don’t think I’ve heard you cuss before.”
“I’m your nanny. Of course, I’m not going to cuss.” I rolled my eyes. “That would be incredibly irresponsible to do around Clara.”
I didn’t add that I didn’t curse anywhere or at any time in my life because it reminded me of my mother, and those words coming out of my mouth tasted vile. Though I’d heard the way some people like Calliope cursed, like four-letter words were punctuation, somehow managing to make it sound elegant and badass.
“Clara is nowhere to be found, baby,” he murmured. “I like it.” His beard brushed my jaw as his lips nuzzled my neck. “Gonna have to find ways to get dirty words coming out of that beautiful mouth.”
My pussy dampened at his words.
To my disappointment, he removed his mouth. “Getting back to my point before I fuck you senseless,” he said, eyes clearing of that hazy desire that made me crazy. “Ourhouse.”
He drew in a slow breath. “Since leaving the place I grew up in, I haven’t lived in a home. This is four walls with furniture. Clara is my home.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “You came here. You started burning candles, bringing in flowers. Laughter. You made this house a home, Hannah. It isn’t one without you. So yes, we will mortgage our home if that’s what we need to do to ensure that you realize your destiny of being an oncologist. And yes, I realize I said the word destiny, and I hate myself for it.”
I didn’t even laugh. Couldn’t even move.
The world was tilting. Blurring. Tears ran down my checks, and heat sank into my palm as I realized I’d been pinching myself so hard I was drawing blood.
Beau let out a sharp hiss, noticing it because he noticed everything. “What the fuck, Hannah?” He lifted my bleeding hand up to examine it.
“I pinch myself,” I explained robotically. “When I’m with you. Clara. When I’m happy. When I feel like I belong. When I feel safe. Loved. I pinch myself because I don’t trust that it’s real.”
“You’re not dreaming, baby.” Beau pulled my bleeding palm to his mouth, kissing it delicately. “I’m gonna make it my mission to make sure that you don’t have to hurt yourself because you can’t trust that something good is happening to you.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “But if we’re really doing this?—”
“We’re doing this,” Beau interrupted fiercely.
I smiled mildly, as if all my wildest dreams weren’t coming true. “Okay, but you understand to become a doctor and specialize in oncology…” I did some rough mental math in my head. “That’s another decade of study.” Saying it out loud was daunting, terrifying, and expensive. “That’s not tenable. I’d have to be away from you all for too long, not to mention the added expense?—”
“We’re not letting money be the reason you won’t follow your dream,” he barked. “We’ll figure it out. And as much as I want to soak up every moment of life with you, no matter that I’ll miss you like crazy, I’ll never let my needs get in the way of your dreams.”
My breath left me in a whoosh as his words made impact. A verbal sucker punch. He was effortlessly putting his needs aside, without thought, for me.
“But my dream is you too,” I whispered. “And Clara. A family. That’s all I could ever need.”
“We will be here. Forever,” he vowed. “But I don’t want my woman settling for all she could ever need. I want you to have everything you could ever fucking hope for. No conditions. No limitations.”
I smiled at him. “I have it. Right here. Under this roof.”
He smiled back. For the first time without shadows. “Me too.”
epilogue
HANNAH
“Clara is out with her dad,”I told Calliope as I let her in the house.
She visited often. We were close. I enjoyed her company immensely and looked up to her a great deal. We were friends, but she was also older than me, much richer than me, and much more accomplished. Whatever distance I occasionally felt was one I more than likely created in my own mind.
Calliope certainly didn’t create that distance. She’d been at the hospital constantly during my recovery, and when I was cleared to come home, she was there almost daily. Now that I was healed—except for the raised scar on my chest that would only go away with surgery—she stopped by less. But still often. The family had been close before the shooting. Afterward, I’d felt them close in, protective, eager to care for both Clara and me. I’d been uncomfortable at first. Embarrassed. After a whole life of looking after myself, it was hard to let a whole village in.
I was working on that. And I was working on being the village too. Lori needed one.
“Oh, I’m here to see you.” Calliope perched on a seat at the breakfast bar as I walked into the kitchen to get us coffee.
