Page 329 of When a Soul Cries

I was loved.

I was safe.

I was chosen.

And this time, instead of wondering how long something good could possibly last, I let myself believe I was allowed to have it.

Whatever came next, I wouldn't meet it as the same woman who'd climbed onto that bus in Pinehaven with thirty-seven dollars and one suitcase.

I wasn't running anymore.

I had somewhere to stay.

I had people to stay for.

And when Roman lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the ring he'd just placed on my finger, I smiled up at him and stepped closer.

Ready for whatever came next.

I used to think money was the closest thing a man could get to freedom.

When you come from where me and Kai came from, money means something different. It means your mama never has to worry about keeping the lights on again. It means security. Options. Power. The ability to make sure the people you love are taken care of.

So I chased it.

First in the streets.

Then the right way.

And a year ago, I would've told you becoming a multimillionaire meant I had made it.

Today?

I was standing in the middle of my bedroom watching my six-month-pregnant wife cuss at a shoe.

And I'd never felt richer in my fucking life.

"Roman."

I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded over my chest, watching Sol struggle to reach the tiny buckle around her ankle.

"What?" I asked, even though the grin already pulling at my mouth probably told her I knew exactly what she wanted.

"Don't stand there looking at me. Help me." Sol lifted her head and gave me one of those looks she'd perfected since becoming pregnant—the one that said I had about five seconds to stop playing with her.

A grin pulled at my mouth. "You told me five minutes ago you didn't need my help."

"That was before I realized I can't reach my damn foot." She blew out a frustrated breath and tried one more time before giving up.

I laughed.

Wrong move.

Sol lifted her head slowly. Her long curls fell around her shoulders, and the fitted black dress she'd chosen for the ribbon cutting hugged her body before stretching over the round stomach carrying my son.

"You think this is funny?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"A little."