“I want a son,” he whispered, voice ragged against my neck.
I pulled back and faced him, stunned. “What?”
It was the way of life here in Mexico, and that was no less important in the cartels. Family was everything, and the patrons always wanted big families with sons who would eventually take over the family business.
When it came to children though, it was something that Javier and I discussed only once. While I wanted a family at some point, he was hesitant. He had once confessed to me in the middle of the night that he feared he would be just like his own father, deadbeat and horrible. I couldn’t convince him otherwise.
I didn’t have a womb that demanded kids or ached for them. I ached for him. But I also knew that Javier was talking nonsense when it came to his fears. Though there was no denying that he, at times, was not a good person and could very well be the monster that everyone feared, I knew he would make a wonderful father. He was fiercely loyal and protective, and our baby would grow up to be the most spoiled brat in the land.
But I never pushed the issue with him, because I wanted what he wanted, at least for now, and if I ever started feeling the urge, that ticking clock that enslaved women, then I would let him know. I would stop taking the pill and we would start trying.
I never dreamed he would let me know first.
But now I could hear it in his voice, raw and choked, that desire.
I stared up at him, locked in the intensity of his gaze. “You want a baby?”
He swallowed and brushed the hair off my forehead. “Yes, Luisa. I do. For us. For the future.” He paused, seeming to get lost in himself, his face contorting slightly with want and need. “I love you. And I am so, so sorry that I haven’t been there. I am so sorry for what I’ve done to you.”
“No.” I spoke softly, unable to handle this.
“Yes,” he said. “It is the truth. And I know the truth doesn’t mean much from me. But …” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine, “I want it to matter. I want to start over. All of this, all of us. Will you do that with me? Will you love me again?”
My heart shattered beautifully, shards flying everywhere inside, landing soft, and I was filled with nothing but warmth.
I ran my hands through his thick, soft hair. “Of course I will. I never stopped, Javier. It didn’t matter what you did. I tried, but I couldn’t. You’re embedded in my skin.”
“And you’re embedded in mine,” he said. “Deeper than you will ever know.”
At that, he moved his hips, pushing himself deeper inside. I welcomed him with a greedy groan.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Luisa
The next morning I woke up in Javier’s bed. I was alone — I had prepared myself for that. But the space next to me was still warm and I could hear his shower running.
I sighed happily and rolled over as the bright sunshine streamed in through the deep-set windows. Everything looked white-washed and clean. I felt clean too, as if I’d been stripped of everything dark and toxic, and all that was left was a new me.
I knew it was na?ve and wishful thinking but I didn’t care. I needed to cling to the belief that we could start fresh, start anew. I needed to believe that our love was strong enough to survive anything.
The shower turned off and Javier strode out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, his athletic and toned upper body showcased in the morning glow. He gave me a quick smile as he walked over to the closet, completely in business mode.
It was his demeanor that reminded me of exactly what was going on and what was at stake. Last night may have been everything I’d needed and wanted, and it could have been the same for him. But he was a man with a job to do and that was the kind of thing that couldn’t take a backseat.
“Big day?” I commented. I realized I was just trying to make conversation, and that in turn made me see that despite everything that had happened, nothing was back to normal.
“It is,” he said, slipping on a black dress shirt and facing the mirror. “Another day of fixing up our federale, if you don’t mind so much.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I kind of like him.”
“Well, don’t get too attached,” he warned. “Tomorrow he’s out of here.”
“What exactly do you plan on doing with him?”
He shrugged. “Not sure yet. We’ll play it by ear. Diego thinks that we should kick him out of the chopper in the middle of the desert. I’m more inclined to get Juanito or someone to drop him off in Monterey. The city has always been so neutral anyway.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” I said, running my hands over the soft sheets.