And she’s small.
Even now, four weeks later.
She was small to begin with. Because she wasn’t supposed to arrive so early, see. She was supposed to be here in July but she came in May.
But I’m not complaining.
I’m not complaining at all.
Even though she had to spend the first four weeks of her life in the NICU.
We didn’t expect that however. Because even though she came early because of my accident, the delivery was more or less without complications. And the doctors were hopeful that we might be able to go home within a week.
But then she developed breathing problems and her body temperature would fluctuate. So they decided to keep her and somehow my baby had to stay in her incubator for four weeks.
Those were the longest four weeks of my life.
The longest and the toughest.
Every second of which I spent hoping and praying and wishing to God that it was me. That I was the one who needed to stay at the hospital, rather than my baby who’s just so… small and precious and innocent.
That it was my body they were sticking all those tubes into instead of her fragile one.
But it wasn’t.
I’ve only been a mother for four weeks but I think I’m going to spend the rest of my life now, wishing for the same thing. That if something bad were to happen to Halo, I wish it would happen to me instead.
I was sent home after three days with a bunch of information about post-op care that I really didn’t pay attention to because I was leaving the most precious thing behind, my baby.
But there’s one person who remembered.
Him.
He remembered that I had stitches on my stomach. The stomach that was once tight and smooth but now will have a scar where they cut Halo out of me.
He remembered that I couldn’t take a bath until my incision was healed, only showers. Or that I couldn’t lift anything heavy; he didn’t let me lift anything heavy when Halo was inside of me anyway so this wasn’t anything new. Plus my ankle was twisted, so he wouldn’t let me carry anything, period.
Not to mention, he remembered that my scar would hurt in the weeks to come.
And so he made a note to stock up on all the over-the-counter pain medications that are safe for me to take. He made a note to help me move around the glass house and stretch my muscles.
Oh, and he made a note to help me. When I initially breastfed Halo and I didn’t know how to hold her and find a comfortable position that wouldn’t hurt my stomach.
He made a note of everything.
He’s not here right now though, at the glass house.
Even though he wanted to be because today’s Halo’s first day out of the hospital and he wanted to be here for every single second of it.
And he was here for most of it, before he got called away.
We went to the hospital together; brought her back to the house together. The house that was decorated to the fullest, courtesy of all Halo’s aunts and uncles.
God, she has a lot of them.
Four uncles who’re going to be as overprotective as they were — are — of me, Conrad, Stellan, Shepard and Ledger. Four aunts too, actually. My St. Mary’s girls, Salem, Poe and Wyn, and of course, my oldest best friend and Reed’s sister, Tempest.
And together, they all decorated the house to welcome Halo home.
She slept through most of it though.
All the festivities and all the laughter.
But then they started to hold her. One by one.
First went Shepard. Because according to Shep, he’s going to be her favorite uncle. Ledger objected to that of course. But then Shep said that Ledge didn’t have a say in it because first, Shep is older and so he had authority over these things. And second, look at how Halo was already smiling up at him.
When I told him that Halo’s only a month old, she can’t smile right now, Shep told me that I was jealous that my baby was smiling at him instead of me.
Anyway.
After Shep came Tempest. Somehow Ledger was okay backing off for her; isn’t that interesting, that my rowdy, angry brother backed off for a Jackson?
Then it was my St. Mary’s girls’ turn, especially Wyn, because my oldest brother, Conrad, declared that ladies would go first and then the guys. Also interesting that Con would tell everyone to back off so Bronwyn — that’s what he calls her — could have her turn. Not to mention, he keeps staring at her.
But anyway, somewhere between Poe and Salem, my sweet baby had decided that she’d had enough so she started wailing.
I rushed over to grab her, but someone else was there first.
Again, the guy who’s been there for everything since the beginning.
He’d been standing off to the side, letting everyone have their turn with Halo while he kept an eye on things. But as soon as Halo started crying, he broke into action.
And then I got to see a sight that I die to see every day. I crave to see it. My little ballerina heart waits and craves and aches to see it.
Him holding our baby.
And he does it so well, too.
Like he knew right away, right from the beginning, how to angle his arm, how to hunch his shoulder, how careful he should be with her neck, how wide he should splay his fingers on her teeny tiny body to give her the maximum support and protection.
Maximum safety.
Her protector. Her hero.
Anyway, as soon as he took our Halo in his arms, she calmed down. She started flailing her fists too, making noises, kicking her tiny feet in those booties I’d made for her.
Like she used to do whenever he was near, even when she was still in my belly.
You know what, Shepard and Ledger and everyone else can go suck it.
I know, as I’ve always known, he is going to be her favorite.
There’s magic in him. Dark magic. All girls, including my four-week-old baby, can’t resist him. The one with the vampire skin and wolf eyes.
Reed Roman Jackson.
The guy who gave me Halo. She looks like him, actually. Except for my eyes, Halo got everything from him. Her hair, her nose, her chin. Her forehead. Even her ears.
She’s a carbon copy of her daddy.
And he’s just pulled into the driveway.
As usual, I hear the screech of his tires before his car door bangs shut. It’s not his Mustang though. He got a new, baby-proof car from the shop, his shop.
Auto Alpha.
Oh yeah, he told me.
The very next day, when I finally woke up and had enough sense to ask things and hear things and go see Halo. He told me that he bought the garage. It’s his now and he’s going to work there and I guess I was so emotional about everything, I started crying.
I sobbed and sobbed in happiness that Reed is free now.
He’s free of his dad. He has what he wanted. He has his dream.
He chose his dream. He chose the right thing.
That’s where he goes when he leaves for work every day. And that’s where he went today because they called him about some parts that were wrongly delivered.
So I’m happy now.
I have Halo. She’s finally at home and healthy. Reed doesn’t have to work for his dad anymore.
Extremely, excessively happy.
Happy, happy, happy.
So happy that when I hear his bounding footsteps on the porch stairs, I stand up from the cozy couch that I was sitting on and leave the room.
I go to the kitchen and busy myself with something.
Although there’s nothing that needs doing around here. Because the people who were here, my family and friends, cleaned up everything before they left. Because they didn’t want to bother me or stress me out with the new baby at home.
Ugh.
I hate this.
I hate that I have nothing to do and that my heart is spinning and spinning in my chest because he�
��s now inside the house. He’s just closed the door and he’s probably three seconds away from me.
I almost hope, almost, that he doesn’t come in here.
In the kitchen.
Where I’m hiding away from him.
Although to be very honest, this isn’t a good hiding place. I should’ve probably chosen the bedroom and locked the door. Barred the windows. Not that it would keep him out, but I’m too angry at him right now to do it anyway.
Yes, I’m angry.
I’m so angry that I could…
I spin around when I feel him at the threshold. His tall, big presence overwhelms everything else, and as soon as I see him, the space that was bright turns darker.
So much so that the only thing that shines bright is him in his light-colored t-shirt and dark jeans. There’s a strip of grease on his left bicep and also a smaller spot on his left wrist that makes my stomach clench, my chest heave with longing.
He’s usually super careful about washing up at work before he comes home. Something about not wanting to dirty things up. But sometimes he misses spots and I don’t know what it is about them, but I find them so masculine, so very, very sexy.
And I want them on me, those dirty, greasy, fascinating hands.
I clench my fists because it only makes me angrier.
When I look back at his face, I find that his eyes are taking me in.
They are glowing as he takes in my braid, my daisy-printed white dress.
I chose this dress today because it makes me feel like a fairy — courtesy of the guy I’m mad at — and since I was bringing my Halo home, I wanted to feel like one.
When he’s done, his gaze lingering on my stomach that’s more pouchy than flat for a second too long, and his eyes come back to mine, I blurt out, “Everybody left.”
“I see that.”
Of course he does and of course he’d use a voice, all deep and smooth, that goes down my spine like warm honey.
I clutch my dress and blurt out again, “Halo’s sleeping.”
It’s true.
She is sleeping. I just fed her, changed her and now she’s out. Which won’t last long because she’ll need another feeding soon but for now, my baby’s sleeping and hopefully dreaming of magical things.
Meanwhile I have no idea what I’m doing except that I’m very, very mad at him and if he doesn’t do anything about it soon, I’ll punch him.
I will.
“I know,” he says as if he heard what I was thinking.
“What?”
“That she’s sleeping.”
“How do you know?” I ask uselessly, belligerently.
And a very subtle sparkle of amusement enters his eyes. “Because I know her schedule. Because I’ve known it for the last four weeks.”
I know he knows it.
He knows everything, doesn’t he?
Then how come he doesn’t know that I’m so mad at him right now? That I’ve been slowly getting madder and madder over the past few days?
And maybe I shouldn’t be but I can’t help it.
I inhale sharply and wipe my trembling, sweaty hands over my thighs. “Well then, I’ll go catch some sleep too. Because all the books always say that I should sleep when Halo sleeps.” I nod to emphasize it. “So I’ll leave the kitchen now and —”
“Not so fast.”
My breaths falter then.
My ballerina heart skips a beat because suddenly all his gorgeous features sharpen. His cheekbones become more chiseled and his jaw, stubbled and obviously irritating to him, morphs into a sleeker V.
God, he’s so beautiful like this.
Despite my anger at him, I can’t stop admiring his gorgeous, predatory face. I press my spine against the counter, all thrilled and breathless. “What?”
At my question, he finally steps over the threshold and I swallow.
His long legs prowl toward me with a lazy and yet somehow determined quality and oh my God, is he going to?
Is he going to finally tell me now?
When he reaches me, which doesn’t take more than three seconds anyway, he dips his head and asks in that voice again, “How’s the pain?”
The pain.
He’s asking me about the pain?
To be fair, he asks me every day. He asks me if my stitches hurt, if I’m okay to move around more. If I’m tired more than usual and all that.
But I’ve been getting better and I thought…
I thought he’d do it. He’d finally tell me.
Because it’s been four weeks.
Four weeks, okay?
Since I found out that he loves me after all. That he’s loved me for two years. Since I found out that he still keeps that sweater I made for him in the trunk of his Mustang.
And yes, things have been rocky for us with Halo. Some nights I felt like I would die without her. My body felt so empty and my heart felt so empty too and I’d cry and cry, hugging her little booties and her sweaters that she hadn’t gotten to wear yet.
Reed felt the same way.
He would hold me in bed and I’d burrow my face in his chest and wet his t-shirts with my tears. He’d kiss my forehead, caress my hair, rub my back and I know he never cried but I felt his chest shudder. I felt him swallow and gulp down his emotions with every breath he took.
But for the past week, she’s been on the mend and we could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. We at last knew that the wait was over and we could bring her home.
But the wait isn’t over, is it?
Not when it comes to me and him.
He hasn’t said anything. He hasn’t even hinted at anything. He knows that I’m leaving for Juilliard in a few weeks but again, he hasn’t mentioned it at all. He still lives at the hotel even though he spends all his time at the glass house and in this moment, I realize that maybe it will never be over.
This wait.
Maybe he will never say anything. Maybe he’ll never realize.
And just like that all my anger goes away and is replaced by so much misery and heartbreak. Despite telling myself a million times over the past months that I’ll take my happiness in the fact that he loves Halo, I just want to curl into a ball and disappear.
“It’s fine,” I reply, looking down at his collarbone, his stubbly throat. “It’s much better than when you asked me yesterday. And much, much better than the day before when you also asked me. I’m getting better every day, Roman. You don’t have to worry so much about me. Now can I go please?”
“No.”
I sigh, keeping my eyes on his throat. “Fine, what do you want?”
The sooner he tells me, the sooner I can go and try to get myself under control. So I’m ready and back to myself when Halo wakes up hungry. Maybe I can take a long, hot shower and cry there so I’m all cried out for a few hours while I take care of Halo.
“You.”
I fist my hands for a second as the longing hits me the hardest at his answer. But I unfurl my fingers and say, “Me what?”
“To listen.”
I look up then.
Like a fool.
He’s only said two words but I can’t not. Look at him, ask him. “Listen to what?”
His eyes are my favorite color right now, molten mercury, even as they carry hints of frustration. “I’ve been trying to hold back. Because of everything. I’ve been trying to be a good guy but it’s fucking hard. It’s so fucking hard, Fae. When it comes to you.”
“What’s hard?”
He doesn’t answer me.
Instead, his V-shaped jaw tics and his eyes look far away. As if he’s having a conversation with himself. And when he’s done, he sighs, his broad chest pushing out and a determination falling over his features.
“I wanted to give you a week…” he pauses, before saying, “all right, a day. I wanted to give you at least a day after we brought Halo home but I am an asshole. I can’t wait any longer.
I can’t wait any longer to…”
My heart is banging in my chest. “To what?”
Again, he doesn’t answer but responds with something else completely. “You always say I don’t tell you things, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m going to now. I’m going to tell you everything. From the beginning.”
“Beginning?”
His jaw tightens up for a second and he swallows thickly before saying, “The first time I saw you, I was nine and you were six.”
I wasn’t prepared for this.
I wasn’t expecting this at all and so I breathe out, “I-I’m sorry?”
“You were dancing, spinning on the playground and God, you looked so pretty,” he says gruffly, again his eyes both burning into me and seeming so far away. “You had a pink tutu and your blonde pigtails were flying as you spun. And I thought… I thought, I have to touch her. I have to touch her just once to make sure she’s real. Because you came out of nowhere and I don’t even know what I was doing but suddenly there you were. There this girl was, so pretty and…”
He swallows again. “So clean. Like a fairy or something. And so I had to touch her to see if someone like her could be real, and I did. I did get to touch her. I had to, actually. Because one second you were spinning and the next, you were about to fall and I was there to catch you. But I ruined your dress. I remember that very well. I left muddy fingerprints on it because my hands were dirty. And I wanted to let you go but you made me feel so clean, so filled with fucking light that I didn’t want to, and I wouldn’t have if not for your brothers. They came and they pushed me away and yeah. So that was that.
“And then the next time I saw you, I was eleven and you were eight. I saw you through the window at Buttery Blossoms. You were with Conrad, and by that time, I fucking hated him. I hated him because he got to touch you freely. He got to be with you, him and your other three brothers. They got to talk to you and you probably smiled at them all the time and danced for them. And yeah, I hated them for it. Anyway, I kept watching you through the window. You were taking a fuck-ton of time deciding on what you wanted to get and I thought, if she were mine, I’d buy her the whole fucking shop so she never had to choose.”
A Gorgeous Villain Page 53