She blinked back tears and stared at the top painting.“Jacobo never knew.No one did.Once, he knocked me down the stairs.The other time, he kicked me in the stomach.”A bitter laugh escaped her.“My crime?Trying to stand up to him.”
Rage exploded in Enrique’s chest.Dark furls of heat threatened to suffocate him.Red flashed in his vision.He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.
“I imagined the first was a boy; the second, a girl.I haven’t painted or drawn them in a while, but I’ve been thinking about them a lot again lately.”She handed him the sketchpad.
He leafed through it as gently as he could.Page after page of babies and toddlers, each one drawn with exquisite detail and care.Wrinkled splotches marred a few sheets as though from fallen tears.He pulled Lourdes close and pressed her head to his chest.
She stiffened, then melted into him.Her warm, minty breath fanned his neck as she gripped his shirt.
Enrique swallowed hard past the constricting ball in his throat.He couldn’t fix this.Couldn’t wipe away her pain, the past.She’d lost so damn much.
As she pressed her hands on his chest, she peered up at him with red-rimmed eyes.Shame stamped her face in fine lines.“As much as I want a child, I’m not sure if I’m ready to try for one.”
The soft, heartbroken words hit him like a punch in the gut.“Lourdes, I—”
“No, let me finish.”Lourdes took the sketchpad, stepped away, and hugged it to her chest.“I’ve done some research.Since the miscarriages weren’t because of a medical condition, I’m sure I can get pregnant again, but all thesewhat ifscenarios keep running through my mind.What if I trip or get into a car accident?What if something goes wrong?Another loss would kill me.I’m just not ready.Who knows if I ever will be.I should have told you before we got married in case—” Her breath caught, cutting off her words.She ducked her gaze.“In case not having children was a deal-breaker for you.In case you didn’t want me anymore.”
Cristo.His heart fucking broke.Everything made sense now.Every time he mentioned children, she’d hesitate or wince or suggest they might not be so blessed to have them.In her own way, she was trying to break the news gently, too hurt and scared to come right out with it.
He brushed his thumb over her tear-damp cheek.“As long as I have you, I’m happy.Golden.We can make an appointment with a doctor or look into adoption.If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll be the best family of two that we can be.”Though with enough money and leverage, he could persuade any adoption agency to accept their application.
Lourdes hiccuped and rubbed away her tears.“Would you be all right with adopting?”
“Is that a serious question?I’m an orphan myself.”He forced a smile to alleviate her worry.“If we can save a child or three from the loneliness of an orphanage or the horrors of the street, then we should.Family doesn’t always mean blood.Rubén, Santi, Domingo, and Zac are my brothers.I would kill or die for them.If I had children, blood or not, I would raze the earth to keep them safe.Love them as if they came from my body and yours.”
She flung herself into his arms and kissed him.
Enrique hugged her as tight as he dared.Heat coiled between them, fast and unrelenting.He nibbled on her bottom lip.“Come with me.I want to show you exactly how I see you.”He snatched his keys from his jeans pocket and led her into the hall.Once he unlocked his office, he strode in and flipped the light switch.
Lourdes’s self-portrait, “Essence of Light”, hung on the wall in front of his desk where he could see it every day.Where he could daydream of her to distraction.
Her sharp intake of breath and bulging eyes soothed his raw nerves.
“My God.I never thought I’d see that again.”She stroked her fingers down the textured pink flowers and the golden splash behind her wild curls.“After everything that’s happened, I forgot you bought it.It feels like we were at your cabin years ago, not just last weekend.”
He leaned against the back of an armchair.“I’m no expert on art, but I sense sadness in this piece even though it’s bright and cheery.You’re a riddle, Lourdes.Complex.Bright and dark.Strong and vulnerable.Free yet trapped.”
“You see me well.”She laughed softly and picked up the small picture frame on the gleaming black table beneath the painting.“I’m glad you made a copy of this.”
Enrique shrugged at his only surviving family photo—the one where his parents grinned and his ten-year-old self held up a fishing rod with pride.
“If you don’t mind, I would love to paint this.A present for you.”
“Go ahead.I have something for you, too.”He crossed over to the sleek mahogany sideboard and pulled a jewelry box from a drawer.The tequila and whiskey decanters clinked together as he closed up a little fast in his rush to return to her side.He opened the lid.
A delicate silver watch lay on the velvet pad.
“It’s beautiful.You didn’t have to get me anything.”She set the frame aside and fingered the intricate loops of the band.
“Prepare yourself, Lourdes.My wife gets spoiled.Big time.”He winked at her and fastened the watch to her wrist.“Never take it off.Except to shower.It’s not waterproof.”
Laughing again, she wiped away a sheen of fresh tears.“I promise.”She held up her arm to admire the diamond-studded oval watch face and grinned back at him.“Make love to me.I want softness this time.Romance.”
“So handcuffing you wasn’t romantic?”He smirked and curled a lock of her hair around his finger.
“Not at all.Sometimes, though, I do like it dirty.Rough.”
“That’s why you’re perfect me.”He swept her into his arms and carried her to bed.
