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As I carry Noah out of the kitchen, I glance back at Fury and find him watching us intently, and I think about how everything had to go wrong before it went right for us.
I believe in fate.
I believe we were meant for each other.
Fury is my destiny, and I will fight until my dying breath for our love.
Epilogue
Fury
Three Years Later
* * *
I enter our kitchen after a long day and dump my helmet and the bag of groceries I picked up on the counter, slowly taking in the plants covering the breakfast bar. Christ, at this point, I’m going to have to build Zara a greenhouse. There’s been a new plant every day for the last two weeks; today’s efforts have multiplied.
“Oh good, you’re home,” she says, joining me. “I need a hand moving these plants and then I have a question about the nursery. I think if we—”
My hand goes to her waist, and I pull her close so I can claim the kiss I’ve been thinking about all day. When I’ve had my fill, I say, “I can do all those things, princess, but what I need is a little time with you first.” I curve my hand over her stomach. “And a little time with her.”
She covers my hand and gives me her full attention as her body sways into mine. Fuck, I love it when she does that. “How was your day?”
I spread my fingers out over her stomach, waiting for the kick. Our girl’s usually not active until later in the day, but sometimes she’s moving at this time. “We got a lot of shit done today. It was good. How about you?”
Zara eyes her stomach. “She’s been trying to break my ribs today. We were at Bunnings buying these plants and she kicked so hard I had to sit for a while. It lasted about ten minutes on and off. Seriously, I’m pretty sure your daughter is going to be a kick-boxer. And then when we dropped into Target to pick up some new shirts for you, she did it again. Besides that, my day has been good. I packed my bag for hospital; rearranged the nursery, which is what I need to ask you about; did a heap of laundry; tidied out the Tupperware cupboard; cleaned off the deck; and read some of my new Chelle Bliss book.” She takes a breath and smiles. “It was a good day.”
My wife can’t sit still. She’s two weeks away from delivering our daughter and she’s busier than ever. And fuck if she doesn’t have a lot of words for me when I come home every night. And jobs. All I want is to get my hands on her after a long day, but she’s relentless with her demands. By the time this baby is born, I’ll have almost remodelled the damn house.
After I kiss her again, I say, “How many more plants are we looking at before she’s born?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m detecting a tone in your voice, Ryan Hayes. You know I have a special relationship with my plants. Don’t hate on them.”
“No hate. Just trying to decide whether I need to think about building a greenhouse.”
She threads her fingers with mine over her baby bump. “You love me.”
“You say that like it’s a new discovery.”
Her expression turns serious. “I discover new ways you love me every day.”
“Baby, we’ve been married for nearly three years.” Surely she knows all the ways by now.
Her hand squeezes mine. “And still you amaze me with the love you have for our family and how you’re willing to show it.”
My gut tightens. Family meant very little to me before I met Zara. My only experience was of violence and misery before her. I wasn’t looking for love because I didn’t believe in it. Now I can’t imagine living without it. Without her.
“So are we thinking yes to a greenhouse?”
She brings her hand to my face, her mood still soft and reflective. “Just so you know, I’m all squishy at the moment, so I’m probably gonna get more mushy with you while these hormones are in control. And while I’ve never expected you to get mushy back, I think we could be in for a ride here.”
“What kind of ride?” Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“The kind where you may need to hang on tight for a bit. Like, pretend I’m the one in control of the bike and you’re behind me.” Her hand squeezes mine again. “Don’t let go when these hormones go crazy, okay?”
Fuck. Me.
Zara has no idea just how tightly I’ve been holding on for three years. There’s not a fucking thing she could do that would ever loosen that grip.
