Page 12 of Daigo

"But you don't want it as much-"

"I want it for both of us. I'm here, darling. I'll always be here."

She took a shaky breath. "Can you write that in blood?"

He chuckled softly, eyes twinkling. "Find me a knife." His expression sobered. "I have to go. What needs to be done requires my presence; if not, I would be here for everything. I want to be here for everything. Do you believe me?"

"You know I do." She framed his face between her palms.

"I'm selfish," he reminded her wryly. "I want you all to myself."

She regarded him soberly. "Want me to give my promise in blood?"

"Would you?" he asked teasingly.

"No need." She stroked his cheek. "I love you so much. I'm a realist, as you well know, and realize that this will change things. I want to give you children, Daigo. I want to see this place alight with laughter and the pitter-patter of little feet. I want sons with your physical appearance and your sober outlook on life and daughters with my sunny disposition."

She flashed her dazzling smile and had his gut twisting. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

"I sense a but coming on." His eyes were steady on hers.

"There are so many pitfalls and walls we're going to have to climb. Then I wonder what the hell our children are going to face." She grimaced slightly. "No offense, darling, but can you imagine what our kids will face? A black woman and an Asian man? They're bound to be screwed up."

His eyes narrowed. "On whose side?"

"Yours, of course." She grinned at his ominous expression. "I've seen the members of your club, especially Kane and Kelly's kids, and oh boy, are they adorable! So much so that I want to eat them up." She sighed softly. "And I'm going on and on about something that's probably not going to be an issue."

"I agree with you there." He kissed her soundly. "And for the record, our kids are going to be the most beautiful in the world. Children's magazines are going to come banging on our door for the chance to photograph them. Baby, I have to go."

"Yes." She clung for a few minutes and could not for the life of her figure out what was going on with her. A feeling of impending doom had settled in the pit of her stomach. It was just nerves, she decided. The process had started, and very soon the transfer would be done. Within a couple of weeks, she would find out if she was carrying her husband's child or children. She was secretly hoping for at least two.

"I'll call you as soon as I land."

"You'd better." She followed him downstairs and found herself clinging to him. She had to tamp down the urge to tell him to stay or that she would go with him. Going on her toes, she brushed her lips on his. "If any of those fast-paced New York models with their pencil-thin bodies and pouty lips come on to you-"

"I'll beat them off with a stick and tell them that my wife is very fierce. You don't want to mess with her."

"Perfect. Go."

He brushed his fingers over one smooth cheek. He could sense her nerves. "We're going to be fine."

"Of course. Hi, Jim." She waved to the driver and stepped back. "Be safe and come back to me."

"Always." With a wave, he was sliding into the back of the town car. She watched as the taillights disappeared around the bend and stood there until the cold drove her back inside. It was going to be fine.

*****

"I can't even find the time to have lunch." Shelby fiddled with her salad without much interest. Her husband had been gone for two days, and she was missing him like crazy. Which was ridiculous. This was not the first time he had gone on business trips without her. But it was the first time she was going through the process of IVF. The need to feel him next to her was magnified.

"Bitch, I've been gone for more than three weeks; the least you can do is pretend that you missed me," Tammy said mildly as she sipped her piña colada. She was not driving or working, and after being in three different countries for almost four weeks, taking photos and reporting the news, she was entitled. She had every intention of taking a break and finding herself a man. The last relationship had blown up right before she left for Nigeria, with Mark telling her that he was tired of her odd hours, the bastard.

"And you look like a fricking million dollars, or should I say a billion, considering who you're hooked up with." Tammy admired the snug-fitting, raspberry-colored cashmere sweater her friend was wearing over navy blue slacks.

"You don't look like an old hag yourself." Shaking off the melancholia, Shelby grinned at her best friend. She and Tammy had hooked up when they were both ten years old in the group home and had formed a bond that had survived them moving around from place to place.

As if reading her thoughts, Tammy sipped her drink and commented, "Look at us. A couple of misfits who bounced from home to home. You're married to a fricking multi-billionaire and running your own business, and I'm-" She waved a slim white hand that looked deceptively delicate. Her red hair was piled on top of her head, with the deep green eyes sparkling. "I'm a superstar reporter. Here's to us." She lifted her glass and clinked it against Shelby's. "Speaking of which, you said you have news."

"I want to hear about your adventure first." Shelby decided to put off her own and concentrate on her friend's. Tammy was right; she had missed her, and in spite of the bright smile and the careless attitude, she suspected the girl was troubled. She had heard it in her voice when she called earlier. That was the main reason she had left her very busy store to come and have lunch with her.