I’d worried about giving her my sister’s name. I thought it was too much of a weight for a little girl to bear. I worried that I’d treat her differently, that she might be doomed, or cursed, or burdened. But my Gracie blew through all those fears. Within a year, I knew the only thing my daughter shared with the soft, sweet little sister I remembered was a name. It was fitting, in a way; I’d tried to control fate by giving my daughter that name, and fate laughed in my face.
When Deena was pregnant with Gracie, her mom came to visit. She wanted us to name our daughter after her. I got to watch Deena straighten her spine and tell her mother that it wasn’t going to happen. Maryanne was welcome to be an active grandmother, but she would not be imposing her expectations on Deena any longer, and certainly not on our children. Deena was calm when she told her mother—and utterly intractable. Gone was the petulant woman who reverted back to teenage angst when her parents were around. Deena was a mother herself now.
I fell in love with her all over again in that moment.
We saw Luke off to school and Gracie to preschool, and by the time we were back, it was time to put Bella to bed. I waited for Deena to tiptoe out of the nursery, then caught her wrist and pulled her tight to me. My arm banded around her back, and I felther soften as she melted into me. Her free arm looped around my shoulder, fingers curling into the hair at my nape.
Her smile was as life-giving as it had always been. I kissed the corners of it. “I need to get to work,” she murmured, but she didn’t pull away.
I tightened my hold on her, hands skimming down to her hips. My thumbs ducked under the hem of her shirt, and my precious wife shivered at the touch of my hand on the bare skin of her sides.
“Take the day off,” I coaxed, kissing her jaw, her ear, her neck. “You’ve been doing too much.”
Her business had just expanded—again. She was the face of the biggest travel agency in the city, specializing in corporate travel and high-value clients. I’d helped her meet a few new contacts after Luke was born and agreed to invest some VC money into her business, but the rest was all Deena. Driven, determined, brilliant, beautiful Deena. My Deena.
“I can’t.”
Sighing, I pulled away. Pressed a kiss to her nose. Her lips. Her cheek. Deep inside me, the need to wrap her tight and cart her off to bed stretched and bucked—and I let the feeling grow, then fade. I wanted to take care of Deena’s needs—and the most important of those needs was self-determination. She would tell me when it was time for me to coddle and stroke and feed. I trusted her to let me know when she needed me, and she trusted me to be there when she did.
It had taken time and work to get here, but it felt good to pull away and feel none of the scrabbling panic that used to plague me. “Tonight?” I asked, murmuring against her hair. “Are you free for dinner?”
A long sigh slipped out of her, tickling the base of my neck, and her forehead rubbed against my shoulder. “Maybe…” She blinked up at me, then glanced at the closed door of the nursery. “Maybe I can shuffle things around. Take the rest of the day off—ahh!Cal!”
“Quiet. You’ll wake the baby,” I chided as I strode down the hallway with Deena slung over my shoulder. She smacked my side then stifled a giggle. When I dumped her onto our bed, her eyes were alight. Warm and brown and full of the kind of love I never thought I deserved.
I still wasn’t sure if I deserved it—deserved her. But it was too late. She was mine now, and I was never going to let her go.
“I love you,” I reminded her as I flipped her skirt up and hooked my hands into her panties. I tore them down her legs and stared at the beauty of her, spread wide open for me.
“I know,” she replied, smug.
“Brat.” I relished her sharp inhale as I ran my thumb over her folds, already wet and weeping for me. “You’ll pay for that.”
Her cheeks were already pink. Her eyes were alive. “I hope so.”
I huffed a laugh and unbuckled my belt. “Hands above your head, love. Grab that headboard and don’t let go.” My voice was already rough, and I throbbed when she did what she was told.
But then, I knew she would, didn’t I?
She was perfect. She fit against all my jagged edges, and I fit against hers. Always had. Always would.
