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Maura thought about it for a second. “K.”
I clicked on K and started listing off names. Maura vetoed almost every name I said. Things got interesting when Jameson turned down a name.
“I like the name Keegan,” Maura grumbled.
“His name isn’t Keegan,” Jameson said.
“What about Kieran? It means ‘little dark one,’” I suggested.
“It’s quite fitting,” Jameson muttered.
“I really like the name, but not the meaning. I don’t want him thinking we named him that because of who his father was or the gang he was born into.” Maura held a distant, sullen look as she spoke.
I glanced at Jameson, and he was watching her, taking in what I’d already seen.
“It doesn’t matter what the meaning is if you really like the name,” he said to her.
“Or we could apply the meaning to him being a mobster’s son,” I said.
Maura tensed up and I realized my mistake.
“I’m tired of going over names,” she said as she took the baby from me.
Jameson and I watched as she clambered out of the bed and headed for the door. I ran my hand through my hair frustratedly. “Shit.”
Jameson sighed, sounding just as frustrated, and left to follow Maura.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Another week passed. During that time, a lot happened. I visited Louie every day. At first, I told myself that the only reason I was visiting him was because I owed him and because he was blackmailing me. After two days of visiting, I caught myself looking forward to seeing him. Stefan found a teacher for Brenna, and she had already started training with him. Brody hired a nanny, who would be moving into the manor in two days to help us take care of baby Kieran. I’d ended up choosing that name, despite its meaning. Jamie and Louie had seemed pleased I’d decided on that name as well. Part of me felt like I shouldn’t feel good that they were pleased about anything, but apparently the rest of me was a masochist. Jamie still stayed overnight in my room to help with Kieran. Thanks to Louie, all interactions I’d had with Jamie had been civil. A little too civil, apparently, because he kept staring at me like I was up to something. That made me assume Louie hadn’t told Jamie of our deal.
It was the middle of the night, and the baby woke both of us. Jamie got up with him and was able to get him back to sleep pretty quickly. I couldn’t fall back to sleep. Instead, I found myself watching Jamie. He still looked exhausted as hell, and with how he was rubbing his neck, the chair was evidently a shitty place to sleep.
I sat up and scooted out of the middle of the bed to one side. “My neck is hurting just watching you. Sleep in the damn bed, Jamie,” I said, sounding put off as I grabbed a pillow and put it in the middle of the bed as a barrier between us.
Jamie didn’t get up from the chair.
“Now who’s being stubborn?” I goaded, and it worked. He went to the other side of the bed, toed off his shoes, and slid under the blankets. I lay on my side, giving him my back.
It didn’t take long for his breathing to even out. I ignored the temptation to roll over for as long as I could, but I eventually gave in. I turned over and stared at his sleeping face. For a little while, I allowed myself to remember us—something I’d done my best to avoid for months. Before, I hadn’t been able to handle the pain on top of everything else. It had been easier to focus on the anger. I wasn’t angry with him or Louie anymore.
I lay there until the early morning hours. When sleep clearly became a lost cause, I got out of bed and ventured to the main house. There was somewhere I needed to go, and I couldn’t put it off any longer.
As I approached my old bedroom, my feet slowed to a stop. Memories overwhelmed me. I stared down at the carpet in the hall. Any evidence that I had been lying there bleeding and dying was gone.
I closed my eyes to steel myself for what I was about to do. No. What I had to do. When I opened them again, I was determined, and I’d found strength.
I opened my bedroom door. Inside, I expected to see destruction. I had heard Jamie had trashed the room after the attack. As I walked in, everything for the most part was where it should be. A few pieces of furniture had been replaced. So had the lamp I had broken—the one I had shattered with a log of wood to make the room completely dark so I could hide from Alex Roth.
I looked around and faced the memories, the pain. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as hard as it had been when I’d woken up in the hospital to Jamie and Louie holding each of my hands. Jamie had been the one to tell me what we had lost. There had been so much sadness in his eyes, yet he had been so strong as he had delivered the news he’d known would break me.
As I looked around my old room, I tried to think back to before the attack. The time after I’d killed my cheating boyfriend. There had been ups and downs, loyalties earned, love and death. It hadn’t been a large span of time, but it had been pivotal. It had showed me who I really was. These past four months had made me accept it.
I went over to my closet and opened the door. I stepped inside and eyed all of the designer suits Stefan had bought me. I ran my hands over the tailored fabrics until I found the one I was looking for. I took it down from the rack and went back into the bedroom. I laid the suit on the bed. As I stared down at it, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my pajama pants. I dialed Dean's number. It rang three times before a tired and grumpy voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Grumpy.”
