“Tell me what of.”
“Feeling too much.”
“Me too.” My lips brushed her forehead. “Wanna know what I think we should do about it?”
“Sure.”
“We let it happen. Love is a good thing, Isabel.”
“Love?”
I leaned down and kissed her stomach. “We love this baby even though we haven’t met her yet.”
She nodded. “We do.”
“So, I think it’s time we allow ourselves to love each other too.” I brought my face closer to hers, stared deep into her eyes, and let myself say what was becoming too hard for me to keep inside. “I love you, Isabel.”
She didn’t say it back but she curled closer, her hand coming to rest over my heart. For now, that was enough. It had to be.
“Rascon?” she whispered a few minutes later.
“Yeah?”
She put her mouth as close as she could to my ear and whispered, “I love you too.”
I held her tight, wanting to hear her say it again. Wanting to say it to her again too. But I didn’t. The gift she’d given me was so much more than I’d expected. It wasn’tenough. It was everything.
12
ISABEL
The Stonehouse looked like something from a fairy tale. Stone walls rose from gardens that should have been dormant in February, but weren’t—not entirely. Pink roses climbed the entrance, their winter blooms stubborn against the cold. Ivy crept across the facade, softening the historic structure with green tendrils. A low stone wall enclosed the courtyard, and through the open French doors, I could see twinkling lights strung across the vaulted ceilings even though it was barely noon.
I stood beside Kick at the entrance, my hand gripping his so hard my knuckles had gone white.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine.”
I wasn’t fine. The building was full of Avilas. Through the doorway, I could see them gathered inside—Kick’s brothers, their wives, their children running between adult legs, and Lucia presiding over it all from neara tasting bar with polished shelving behind it. The noise alone was overwhelming. Laughter, overlapping conversations, a toddler’s shriek of delight, someone calling out about wineglasses.
This was nothing like the Van Orr household. Nothing like the silent dinners and empty hallways I’d grown up in.
“Hey.” Kick turned me to face him, his hands warm on my shoulders. “They’re going to welcome you with open arms. You know that, right?”
I managed a nod that fooled neither of us.
“We don’t have to do this today. We can wait,” he offered.
“No.” I straightened my spine. “I’m ready.”
Another lie. But I’d been lying to myself for so long that one more barely registered.
Kick pressed a kiss to my forehead, letting his lips linger there for a few seconds. His breath was warm against my skin, and I let myself draw strength from his steadiness.
“I love you,” he murmured. “Remember that.”
“I love you too.”
