“Oh my God, it’s a boy!” Grace exclaimed, her skin flushed, her hands flying to her mouth.
Lock clasped his arms around her and kissed the side of her face hard, whispering in her ear. She closed her eyes and pressed against him, a hand to his jaw, tears streaming down her cheeks. He rocked his wife, his wet eyes meeting mine.
Squalling and sharp cries pierced the air, uncurling around us. Lock’s lips trembled, a smile wobbling the edges.
“You did it, baby. You did it.” I kissed Jill’s sweaty red cheek and her forehead. “You did it.”
She let out choppy breaths. “I did it. Sweet Jesus, we all did it.”
The doctor rose and gestured at Grace. “Here you go, Mommy.” She laid the baby in Grace’s arms and turned to Lock. “Are you ready, Dad?”
He wiped at his eyes and planted a kiss on the side of his wife’s face, his thumb rubbing through a fallen tear.
“I love you,” he rasped.
Lock took the small clamp tool in his grip from a nurse, and a sob escaped Grace’s mouth. He cut the umbilical cord on his son’s body and bent and kissed his head.
Jill sank back into my arms, laughing.
Laughing.
Over a month after Grace’s baby was born, I got home early one afternoon, and Jill was curled up in the bay window seat, staring out the window, with her journal, a purple pen, a sketch of a necklace on the floor beside her. Her hands lay over her now much, much smaller belly.
I tucked in behind her without a word and took her in my arms, my face pressing against hers. The sun cast its orange glow over us as it dipped lower at the edge of the sky. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing. Just…”
“What?”
She let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping. “It’s strange.”
“Nothing’s strange.”
“I don’t want to feel strange. But I do.” Her breath hitched. “There’s this void...”
“I know,” I whispered, brushing my lips against her hair. “It’s only natural.”
She muffled a sob. “I’m glad it’s over, that it all worked out, but a part of me is sad.”
“It’s okay to be sad, sweetheart. It’s not wrong.”
“It feels wrong. I don’t want it to feel wrong. It’s not about missing the baby as much as it’s the whole experience that I’m missing. I don’t know how to put it into words,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“For nine months, you carried that baby in your body along with so many people’s wishes and dreams. A long, rich journey came to an end. You’re saying good-bye.”
Tears erupted from her, and she cried silently with her face buried in my arm as I held her. I planted kisses on the fireflies inked along her shoulder and neck.
“The good news is, we all live here together,” I said. “You’re not gonna lose out on that bond, Firefly—with Grace or being her boy’s favorite aunt—right?”
“That’s right.” She sniffed. “I’m really glad about that. Grace and I have gotten so close. I don’t want to lose that.”
“You won’t. I guarantee you, she feels the same way.” I kissed the top of her head. “Anyway, now is that time you’ve been talking about for so long. The Jill-on-the-go time. Jill-chases-her-dreams time.”
“Cuckoo!” Becca jumped in front of us.
“There you are, sweets.” Jill wiped at her eyes. “Did you have a good nap?”
Becca nodded and stretched her hands out to me. Jill sat up as I picked up Becs and brought her onto my lap.
My free hand went to Jill’s stomach, and she leaned her head against my shoulder, holding her daughter’s hand.
“Firefly, I want to fill you with us. How does that fit into your dreams?”
She met my gaze, her eyes shining. “I’ve got my dreams right here, Santi. They all came true.”
Two years later, Boner and I had our own child—a boy who was blessed to have those remarkable green eyes of his grandmother and father.
Nicolàs is three years old now, and he and his dad chase a soccer ball on our front lawn, the two of them laughing loudly, both of their long manes of dark hair flying. Becca lets go of my hand to run after her baby brother and his ball, her laughter joining theirs. Pure joy shines on my husband’s face.
Unfettered, free.
Our son kicks the ball hard down the hill and, jumping up and down, waves wildly at me, filling the air with his loud screeches and whoops.
In this very moment, I know that Nicolàs’s eyes will never doubt, never know the darkness his father or I had. They will live in this beautiful light that his parents have fought so hard for.
This I know, deep in my bones. Those eyes will feel and see and reflect our bright.
Always.
LOCK & KEY
RANDOM & RARE
BLOOD & RUST—COMING SOON
WOLFSGATE