Page 141 of Everything But Mine

We sit for a few minutes, just not in silence these days. I curve my palm around her stomach. She’s thirty-two weeks, five days. She’s the size of a papaya. Beckett pats his hand on it, too, and the girl kicks. He talks and mumbles, the baby responding with her own choreography. That’s about as long as Beckett can handle sitting, so he goes back to butterfly chasing and insect terrorizing.

Amanda rests her weight on my side, my arm coming around and pulling her closer. Her smile brightens.

“So,” she says, “is Diego okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” I reply, tracing my finger on the exposed skin of her arm. “I don’t want to talk about Diego.”

“Oh?” Her hand turns to face me. “What would you want to talk about?”

I clear my throat, holding her close. Her hands rest on my knee and thigh, softly drawing patterns.

“For most of my life, I was your friend. I imagined being the person you loved, resigned, you’d always be everything but mine.” I kiss her. She smiles softly against my lips, stopping me from going deeper. “I thought I knew what it’d be like, being with you. Friends, just better. Nothing could have prepared me for what it feels like to be loved by you.” She’s watching me, grinning from ear to ear. “You helped me see myself in ways I didn’t think were possible. Even if I had to learn to see it, too.” I shift slightly, my voice steady but low. “So, I have a question that’s long overdue. Will you be with me as my wife?”

She’s crying now, silently, nodding before she even speaks.

“Try to stop me.”

She throws herself into my arms, and I barely manage to slide the ring, a Hercules knot with a small emerald, onto her finger. Lips crashing, tongue and teeth and soul.

“Hey, Eric!” Sandro’s deep voice carries from the fire pit by the cabins. “What’d she say?”

“I said yes!” Amanda calls back, grinning.

Soon, we feel little arms wrap around us, joining the family hug. Amanda kisses Beckett, and I kiss her stomach.

After a lifetime of history, she’s finally everything and mine.

BOOK 2 - MISSING PIECES SERIES

Diego

*excerpt provided is from a work-in-progress and is subject to further editing and content revisions. The final published version may differ.*

I’m not a jealous person. Not at all. So I don’t know why my date, not girlfriend, Valeria Ross talking to my childhood friend Matteo is driving me up a wall. To my right, my sister Martina, fingers curled around my bicep and brown curls bouncing, is yapping about one thing or other. To my left, my other sister Carmen, ashy blonde straightened hair brushing her shoulders, smirks. Carmen’s gaze flicks from my date and Matteo to me while her mocking smile widens. I can’t stand the joke she’s concocting, so I cue up the next song. Why did I think bringing Valeria to a wedding I was DJ’ing for was a good idea?

“She said she won’t dance with you. Hilarious,” Carmen says.

Martina stops her chatter and focuses her gaze on them. “Oh.” Her eyebrows crease. “I didn’t realize…” She licks her lips, avoiding my eyes. “She’s been telling everybody you two aren’t a thing, just—friends.”

Having no patience for Martina today, I focus my gaze back on them. Valeria likes to go by Val. She can say there’s nothing between us, but I know damn well when she’s with me and only me, she loses that composure she takes such pride in guarding.

Tonight her hair is down, smooth waves the color of dark espresso, brushing a few inches past her bare shoulders. The dress is blood-red and tight through the bodice, studded with tiny stones that catch the light every time she moves, flashing like the amber-gold of her eyes. It pushes everything up just enough to make me swallow because I can’t look away. Which I’d be able to if Matteo wasn’t leaning in so close. He isn’t just close, though. He dips to whisper in her ear, his mouth near her skin, and Val shivers enough that goosebumps chase down her throat and disappear into the neckline of that dress.

Still. Not jealous. But if he doesn’t step the fuck back from my date, I’m going to lose my composure first.

“Oh, we’re not a thing.” I cut Martina off. “But we’re going to be.”

Carmen laughs with a taunting edge next to me. “Good luck with that. She’s pissed at you.”

I cock my head, considering it. “Nah, Val doesn’t get mad. She cuts you out.”

Martina leans over and glances at Carmen, eyes slightly wider. She flicks her eyes to Val, who for just a second, looked my way. Not even long enough for me to catch her eyes.

“Diego, that woman’s pissed at you.”

I huff at my sisters. “Pissed or not. I’m working on it.”

They exchange glances again, and I can’t deal with them anymore. “You mind letting me focus so I can do my job?” I say, looking for a different style of music than my usual deep bass and sultry rhythms.