I didn’t expect to love it.But I do.
It’s peaceful, and for the first time in months, I feel like I’m breathing easily again.
My hand drifts to my bump, a soft, almost-round curve beneath my dress. I’m just shy of five months now, and the baby’s movements have started fluttering, delicate and dizzying. Sometimes, they take my breath away.
“You’re glowing,” Mrs. Wainwright remarks, still scribbling on her stock list. “That child of yours is going to be lively. I can feel it in my bones.”
I smile. “You say everything with certainty in your bones.”
“Because my bones are never wrong.”
The shop door jingles again, and a pair of farmers stomp in, arguing about livestock feed. From the pub across the road, a burst of laughter spills out from farmhands getting their morning fry-ups before heading back to the fields.
Martha would say this is the life we were always meant to live, and some days, I believe her. But then there are mornings like this, when the ache returns, small and quiet but present. A reminder of a man with rough hands and a gravel voice. A man I left behind for all the right reasons, even though it felt wrong.
I call Fern twice a week, and we talk about everything except him. Not because I don’t want to know about him, but because hearing about him would make staying away impossible.
And I can’t go back.
A tap on the glass startles me. Martha stands outside, grinning, cheeks pink from the cold. She holds up a paper bag from the bakery, mouthing ‘treats for later’,before hurrying off again.
“I’m going to sit in the office and go over these figures,” Mrs. Wainwright announces before wandering off.
I press my hand back to my stomach. You can fall in love with a new life and still miss the old one with your whole heart.
“Baby,” I whisper softly, “I hope I’m doing this right.”
KADE
I stuff the cash in the safe and lock it. We’re doing well this month, better than we ever have.
“You look pleased with yourself,” Diesel comments from the doorway.
“I just counted the takings for the week. Add it to the rest of the month and it’s the best we’ve had in a long time.”
“Great. Maybe now you can take a backseat and help out in the shop. I’ve been running that place single-handed for months.”
I grin. “Clients love you. You’re doing a great job.”
“That’s not the point, Pres. You love tattooing. Why the hell are you driving delivery vans when you could be doing what you actually want to do?”
“We need to be involved. Cole is too important. I’m not screwing it up.”
Truth is, I take the heavy runs myself because I don’t want my drivers being stopped with heroin in the back. The prison sentence is too damn high, and the risk is mine. If something goes wrong, it’ll be on my head, not theirs.
“All this work and no play is avoidance,” Diesel mutters.
I laugh. “You’ve been listening to Fern for too long.”
Jet struts in, hips swinging. “VP said you need company,” she says, eyebrow raised.
I glare at Diesel. He shrugs, pretending innocence. “If you ain’t avoiding shit,” he prods, “what’s the problem?”
“I’m all good, thanks, Jet.” She rolls her eyes and leaves.
“She fucking hates me,” I mutter. “Most of the women do since Eden left. And I’m not using the whores when other brothers have been there.”
“It didn’t bother you before.”
