Page 189 of Angel

Most of the evening, she sat on Angel’s lap, from where she observed the chaotic scene with pure contentment.

Her father fed her a warm bottle, spoiling her with endless forehead kisses and snuggles.

I leaned back in my chair, my hand on Angel’s knee.

‘Look at the state of our killer guitarist,’ Reign mocked, pointing a fork at Angel’s chest. ‘The man who tears down stadium stages is in ecstasy, burping a four-month-old princess.’

‘Shut your face, Reign,’ Angel growled, though a smirk broke through his rugged facade as he patted Mila’s back to burp her. ‘You’re still pissed off she got one on you; hell, she out-rocks all of you losers combined.’

‘He’s so whipped,’ Levi agreed, chuckling as he took a sip of his rum. ‘I saw him testing the milk temperature on his wrist earlier like a certified pro.’

Angel’s voice fell into a rough, unapologetic rumble as he placed the sleepy bubba into her bassinet.

‘Damn straight, and I’ll drop down anyone who wakes her up from her nap.’

He was a rock icon to the world, but here he was just a doting, besotted dad.

I loved the juxtaposition.

A badass, yet a marshmallow softie who’d give his life in a second to protect our little girl.

In the final week of August, the Forrest family descended upon us.

Angel’s sisters, Marnie and Clair, took time off work for the summer to soak up the Italian sun.

His mum, Amelia, joined them, free on her summer break from her professorship at Vanderbilt.

She brought along his father, Drew.

As soon as she arrived, the landscaper in him got out of the shuttle and immediately inspected Mrs. Campanelli’s lemon trees.

A day later, at the sprawling breakfast table overlooking the sea, the family huddled over my daughter’s bassinet as she blew raspberries up at them.

‘Look at those tiny toes,’ Angel’s mum cooed, leaning down to let Mila grip her pinky finger. ‘She has the Forrest jawline, Roxy. There’s no denying that stubborn chin.’

‘She better not inherit his temperamental spirit,’ Marnie teased, winking at her brother. ‘One in the family is plenty.’

‘Hey, I’m a changed man,’ Angel rasped, lifting his coffee mug in salute. ‘I’m a peaceful soul now. Ask my wife.’

‘He’s an angel,’ I laughed, as I leaned over to kiss his sculpted jaw.

My heart welled with joy as my new family bickered and laughed under the Italian sun.

This second honeymoon wasn’t just a vacation.

It was the blueprint for happiness for the rest of our lives.

Epilogue

ANGEL

The Tyrrhenian Sea spread out like a sheet of crushed sapphires beyond the cliff edge.

I settled deeper into my lounge chair, eyes on Mila.

A small fan whirred nearby, keeping our sleeping baby cool.

She slept hard, her tiny fists bunched up by her chin.