“Two. Three. Five.”As many as you want.
She laughs, light and surprised. “That’s a lot of kids. Are you planning on staying home?”
I tilt my head. There’s an odd note to her voice.
“Spill.”
“It's just… one of the things we probably should have talked about.”
My brows furrow. “What’s worrying you?”
“Nothing.” She says it far too quickly and then sighs. “What did you picture a family looking like? Daycare? Nannies?” She swallows. “Me staying home?”
I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff. I know how I answer matters. But I can only be honest.
“I never pictured one. Until I met you, it never occurred to me I could have a family. My life was too volatile. Too violent. Even if there were someone I could trust enough to share a home with, how could I put them at risk?
Sera’s lips part.
“Then I met you,” I continue. “And everything changed. Yes, I still have concerns about the risks my life might expose you, and any future children to. But I can’t imagine going through life without you.
“Life comes with risks. I could be an accountant, and a serial killer might target you.” I give a small shrug. “I know how to keep you safe. And I always will,” I vow quietly, meaning every single word.
Her nose wrinkles. “A serial killer?”
“You know what I’m saying.”
“It’s random. That’s all.”
I cover her mouth with mine to shut her up. The kiss is slow at first, then deeper. When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen, eyes hazy.
“Okay,” she says, blinking a few times. “Safety, check. What about work? Do you expect me to stay home and wear lots of jewelry, get my nails done—like a traditional mob wife?”
“A traditional mob wife? What the hell is that?”
She scowls. “There was a reality show. But you know, like cook your meals every night, stay home with the kids. Do you want me to quit my job?”
Where is she getting all this? “First off, I have no idea what a traditional mob wife is because I’m not in the mob. Second, yes, some wives do the whole traditional thing, and some have jobs. Alex’s wife is a successful true-crime podcaster.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Ironic, right?”
She laughs, then sobers. “So, if I want to keep working, you’re okay with it?”
I pull her closer until she loops her arms around my neck. “Little Warrior, if I tried to tell you what to do, you’d ignore me anyway. But if you’re asking what I prefer…” I bend to brush a kiss across her lips. “I want you to do whatever makes you happy. Work. Don’t work. Be a housewife. Hire people to handle everything. I don’t care—as long as you’re happy.”
She bites her lip and looks out at the trees again. “I always thought... I’d want to stay home. Be a mom full-time. My mom wasn’t a bad person, but she wasn’t really there. Not emotionally anyway. She was checked out a lot of the time. I’d want to be the opposite. Present and involved. Build the family I wished I’d had. The one you deserved, too.”
Her words sink deep. My own childhood flashes—empty rooms, my father’s rage, my mother crying behind locked bathroom doors. Sera would put a bullet in my brain before she’d ever let me hurt our children. Not that I ever would.
But the certainty of what a fierce, loving mother she’ll be makes my hands tighten on her hips. It hits me like a fist to the sternum. My eyes sting for a second. This is what I want. What I never thought I’d have. A real home. With her. Kids who’ll never know the fear I did. Happiness surges, raw and physical—muscles loosen, my breath comes easier, like chains I didn’t know were there have fallen away.
I cup her face and kiss her. She sighs against my mouth, hands resting on my chest. The cold bites at my skin, but her warmth seeps into me. The kiss deepens and my tongue slides against hers. She presses closer, her body fitting perfectly to mine.
Then she shivers. The sun has dipped low; the temperature dropping fast. I walk her backward through the door, kicking it closed behind us.
“Christening the house?” she murmurs against my lips.
