I don’t hesitate.
“I don’t want blood on this,” I say flatly. “Just make sure he doesn’t step foot in Chicago again.”
Cross’s smile spreads slow and dangerous. “That’s a lot of wiggle room for me and Romeo.”
He claps a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Hell of a night. Donation’s at the front. And tell your wife Samantha wants coffee soon.”
Then he’s gone, like none of this was anything out of the ordinary.
Sabrina steps out of the bathroom moments later, looking steadier, stronger. When we return to the event, no one knows my world just shattered—and somehow reassembled into something better.
When we finally get home, the door barely closes before Olga launches herself at us like a missile.
I drop to the floor instinctively, laughing as she barrels into me, tail wagging hard enough to knock over a lamp if she gets close.
Sabrina laughs above me. “She’s like a toddler with fur.”
I look up at my wife—flushed, radiant, alive—and something settles deep in my chest.
I stand, take her face in my hands, suddenly serious. “You’re going to be an incredible mom one day,” I say quietly. “And I can’t wait for that future with you.”
Her smile turns soft, mischievous. “Then you better hurry and take me upstairs,” she murmurs. “We’ve got work to do.”
I scoop her up easily, her laughter wrapping around me as I carry her toward the stairs.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
She smiles, warm and sure.
“I love you too.”
6 months later
Langston
The house is quiet in that rare, perfect way—early morning light spilling through the windows, the city still half-asleep beyond the trees. This place used to feel like a sanctuary because it was empty.
Now it feels like one because she’s in it.
Sabrina is curled into my side, her head tucked beneath my chin, red hair spread across my chest like a living, breathing reminder that my life is nothing like I thought it would be a year ago.
Six monthsago, I was counting days.
Now, I don’t remember when I stopped.
My hand moves absently through her hair, slow and careful, like I’m afraid if I wake her too fast she’ll disappear. She sighs in her sleep, presses closer, and my chest tightens with something that still catches me off guard.
Peace.
The kind that settles deep.
Tomorrow is our anniversary.
The one-year mark she laid out so clearly in the beginning. The line in the sand. The expiration date.
I smile to myself.
I was never going to let it end.
