Because no matter how much my life has changed.
No matter how far from simple it’s become.
There is one thing I know with absolute certainty.
If I had to walk through all of it again to get back to this moment.
To her.My runaway nun.
I would.
Every time.
Reassure yourself some more, Fuckface.I sit on the edge of the bed and pull her with me, guiding her until she settles over my lap, her knees bracketing my hips.
“We’re home, Dove. We made it.”
My voice comes out quieter than I expect. I reach up, catching one of her curls and winding it slowly around my finger. I feel it the second it happens, the way the tension begins to drain from her, how her shoulders loosen as she leans into me.
“You know,” I murmur, lifting my eyes to hers and holding them there, “this is one of the only places I’ve ever felt safe. One of the only places I’ve ever felt like I belong.” My hand slides along her thigh, steadying myself more than anything. “I know it’s different right now…with everyone around, with all of this…but it’s still ours.”
“Where are the others?” Sera asks.
“Mac’s garage, and the recording studio…” I exhale softly, searching for the right words. “Those places made me feel like I could breathe. Like I wasn’t constantly bracing for impact.”
I gesture lightly around the room.
“This, though…this is our sanctuary.”
I glance around the room without really looking away from her.
“Our sanctuary,” Sera murmurs. “The Lord is our refuge and our fortress…”
Mild Bible-babble… kinda cute.
Sure. But is she callingyouLord, or this place?
Neither. I think. It’s one of those “the Lord is my shepherd” things.
Her fingers slip into my hair, moving through it slowly, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, leaning into the touch.
Bible talk gets her frisky, think of something quick…
“I trust you, Trey,” she says quietly. “I trust you to keep us safe. Me, you… and our baby.”
Something in my chest tightens at that. At the weight of it, at the truth of it, but I don’t let it show. Not fully. I just tighten my hold on her.
I cringe, because I wouldn’t trust me with a potted fern.
The room stretches out around us, familiar in a way nothing else is. The bed sits wide and central, the rest of the space opening out in clean lines. The walk-in wardrobe beyond, everything in its place, the ensuite just past it, all marble and glass. Floor-to-ceiling doors lead out to the private balcony, overlooking the grounds, the pool catching the light like nothing out there could ever touch us.
“So, Mrs. Baker…” I murmur, my hand sliding up her back as I look at her properly, taking in the way she’s starting to come back to herself. “What do you wish to do now that you’re home?”
“Shower. Sleep.” A smile breaks across her face, bright and unguarded in a way I haven’t seen enough of lately. “Draw. I’ve missed that so much.”
Her lips find my skin before I can answer…soft, scattered kisses across my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my mouth.
“Cook!” she gasps suddenly, like the thought has just struck her all at once, her eyes lighting up. “I can cook you something.” Her hands slide into my hair again, her forehead brushing mine. “What do you want?”
