“Let’s see how you feel after changing diapers and going through days like a zombie. And all because you love to come inside me. One second of bliss, a lifetime of responsibility.”
He groans low, adjusting in his pants. “Worth it to have souvenirs of the best of times.”
“You’re crazy.”
“About you. No secret.”
Love fills every nook and cranny of my being, and I could levitate at any moment now.
I close my eyes for a second, wanting to preserve this moment of complete serenity. “Never stop loving me like you do,” I gulp, emotions lodging in my throat and making it hard to form words. I wouldn’t survive it.
Our souls are intertwined.
Our lives are interconnected.
There’s no Zara without Vian and no Vian without Zara. Our relationship is symbiotic; we thrive together or wither apart. It’s just how it is.
We can’t change it. It’s the unwritten order of our existence.
He covers my hand on his heart, his bigger one cradling mine. “Never, mi sol. I would rather fade into oblivion than forget you. Loving you is what I am supposed to do.”
I beam, staring into his eyes, where I see my entire life, happiness sparking fireworks inside me and lighting up my chest. “You owe me one more day,” I whisper, wanting to close the door in reality’s face.
“You have all my days and beyond.”
We spend the next hours with me dodging his attempts at seducing me, which demands all my strength. His frustration only emboldens me; having so much power over this man is a heady experience. We make plans, from our organizations coming together, where we’ll co-lead, to picking out a color for the nursery.
Even though I know it’s going to be a boy, we decide on yellow walls, sunny and warm.
Our world is dark, but our love shines brighter.
It’s Friday night,and we’re at the penthouse. My husband insisted our home is sacred, reserved just for us. Rafe and Tristan will come over for their poker game, and Noemi and I will meet for girls’ night.
Almost losing him made us even closer. We’re family.
She forgave me.
I forgave her.
Life is too short to dwell on mistakes, especially those born from good intentions.
Music plays in the background as we chill on the sofa.
“Don’t go,” he whines, but even that sound pouring from his mouth is sexy. My man could recite me the alphabet and I would get hot and bothered.
I pout, palming his chest. “It’s only a few hours.”
Anything more would be a stretch, particularly since we just reconnected. No more secrets, no more of the past sneaking in and tearing us apart.
I have thought about what to give the man who already has everything—and that’s me, according to him. I can’t wait to reveal my gift.
He had it worse. While I lingered in numbness, he went through his days knowing I was just out of reach.
While it’s not a competition, he remained loyal to me. He would have loved me from the shadows and made sure I was thriving.
He grips my waist, pulling me down onto him and eliciting a squeal from me.
“You’re still healing,” I remind him, just as much as I remind myself, needing him madly and just as fiercely.
