I could picture it so clearly: Cecelia standing before the Eiffel Tower, her face tilted up in wonder. Cecelia on a beach in Bali, sun-kissed and laughing. Cecelia exploring ancient ruins, sampling exotic foods, dancing under foreign stars. Away from this city that had become a prison of fear. Away from the ghosts that haunted every corner of our home.
"Rafe." She propped herself up higher, her expression now openly skeptical. "What about your job? Your father would—"
"Fuck my father," I interrupted. "Fuck the company. Fuck all of it."
Her eyebrows shot up, and I took a deep breath as I tried to modulate my tone.
"I've made smart investments over the years," I explained more calmly. "We have more than enough to live comfortably without me working for a while. Maybe indefinitely."
"But the company—"
"My parents' expectations, their manipulation, their fucking games. All of it led us here." Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "I've spent my entire life trying to be what they wanted. Following the path they laid out because it seemed easier than fighting. And where did it get me?"
Cecelia reached for me, her touch light on my arm. "Rafe."
I covered her hand with mine and squeezed gently. "I need to make changes, Cecelia. Real changes. Focus on what truly matters."
"And what’s that?" Her question came out soft.
"You," I said. "Us. This life we're building together."
She was silent for a long moment, her eyes searching mine in the dim light. I could practically see the wheels turning in that brilliant mind of hers, weighing and measuring, considering all angles.
"And what would we do?" she finally asked. "Just... wander the globe indefinitely?"
"For a while, yes." I leaned forward to brush my lips against hers, a feather-light touch that still managed to send heat curling through my veins. "See everything we've ever wanted to see. Do everything we've ever wanted to do. No deadlines, no obligations. Just us."
Her fingers traced lazy patterns on my chest, following the lines of my tattoos. "And when we've seen everything? When we've traveled to every corner of the earth and experienced all it has to offer? What then?"
I caught her hand and pressed it flat against my heart, letting her feel the steady beat that existed only for her now.
"Then we come home," I told her, voice dropping to a whisper as I leaned in to touch my forehead to hers. "And we build a family."
Her breath caught, body going still against mine.
"A family?" she repeated, the words barely audible.
"If that's what you want," I clarified quickly. "Kids, dogs, white picket fence—the whole fucking fantasy. Or just us, if that's all you want. I don't care, as long as it's with you."
"You'd want that? Children?"
"With you?" I didn't have to think about it. "Yes."
The truth of it settled into my bones. I had never seen myself as a father before—had never wanted that responsibility, that vulnerability. But with Cecelia, the thought of creating something permanent, something that would outlast us both, filled me with a longing so intense it bordered on pain.
"I want everything with you," I continued. "I want to see the wonder on your face when you experience something new. I want to hold your hand as we walk through ancient cities and dense jungles and quiet villages. And then I want to see you become a mother, to build the kind of family I never really had."
Tears tracked down her cheeks. I caught one with my thumb, marveling at how this woman's emotions could undo me so completely.
"You really mean it."
"I really mean it." I kissed her again, softly, reverently. "I've never meant anything more in my life."
She studied me for another long moment, her eyes tracing over my face as if memorizing every line, every shadow. Then she smiled—that radiant, fearless smile that had first captivated me years ago.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?" I repeated.
