by Violet Paige
I never knew if Aubrey received my letter. I wanted to believe it brought her some sense of solace if she ever read it. I did read online that she opened her gallery, and on the first night of her showing she sold all her canvases to benefit the children’s home in Paris.
By the time I opened the door, the steam funneled into the bedroom. The water was hot. Vaughn was waiting in the shower.
I stepped under the stream.
“Are you going out for Black Friday shopping, tomorrow?” he asked.
I huffed. “In Hana? Funny.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you want to drive over to Lahaina. You haven’t been to that side of the island in a few weeks.”
“It’s so far,” I whined. “I think I’ll stay home and watch football with my sexy husband instead.”
He laughed. “Huge football fan suddenly?”
“Since I’m married to the high school coach, yes.”
He wrapped his arms around me. My nipples pressed into the hard planes of his chest. The water splashed off his sturdy shoulders.
“We had a horrible season.”
I kissed his chest, chasing droplets on his skin. The salt had washed down the drain “It will get better,” I answered. “It was your first year.”
“Thanks, babe, but my feelings aren’t hurt. They need conditioning. Training.”
“I don’t know anyone better to give them that kind of discipline than you.” It only took one look at his body to know the man had figured out how to master a healthy workout regimen.
“Yes, because surfing, running, and coaching are tough.”
“Hey.” I turned his chin to me. “Those kids do look up to you. I know you see it. I know you feel it when you’re around them.”
He grabbed the body wash. “I do. But it’s not quite the same as devising a plan to liquidate billions in oil money.”
“No. It’s not. But it’s more valuable.” I smiled.
“And that’s why you’re the light, baby.” He cupped my breasts, and brought his mouth over mine. I groaned at the kiss. “You’re the damn sun in my soul. You know that? I need you to remind me every day. Every fucking day, baby.”
I nodded. “I will. I won’t stop.”
There was always a shadow in the recesses of my mind that would haunt me at night. I had dreams that Vaughn would get pulled back to Blackwing. But every morning I awakened and he was there. Making breakfast. Surfing on the beach. Researching high school football plays and drinking coffee. He was always there.
So as much as I was his light, he was mine. We reminded each other how easy it was to slip back to the darkness. We held on to each other, so that never happened again.
We lathered each other in bubbles and rinsed off before stepping out of the shower. There were still last minute tasks in the kitchen. I looked through the drawers for my pineapple knife. It was the one I always used to cut the husk off the fruit.
This kitchen didn’t come close to the Paris kitchen. It was small. The appliances were ten years old, but that was common for this part of the island. We had drawn plans to renovate. This time, I would decorate for us—not for appearances, not for Blackwing.
There were no major stores in Hana. There was one school, that looked like something out of a movie. It was where Vaughn coached in the afternoons. I had been shocked the first time I saw it. Even more surprised when he said he wanted to coach.
This part of the island suited us. On the other side of Maui, it was busier. There was a Wal-Mart, a Bed Bath & Beyond, and Home Depot. When we needed something, we could make the drive, but I liked the rutted dirt roads and the privacy of the village. We were Americans living in the U.S. We liked to tell people we were trying a nomadic lifestyle and fell in love with the rustic simplicity of this side of the island. It was believable. Much easier to sell than trying to convince French farmers or Greek fishermen that we belonged in an untouched part of Europe. Hawaii had been the perfect solution all along. There was tourist traffic, but nothing like what the huge hotels and resorted dealt with at Ka’anapali Beach. For the most part, it was remote and removed from large crowds.
“Found it.” I held up the knife.
“I’ll do the cutting.” Vaughn took the knife from my hand and produced a kona cutting board.
“Fine.” I started the water to boil the potatoes. “Want me to turn up the game for you?”
“Has anyone told you how hot it is that you pretend to like football?”
I grinned. “Funny. I’ll get the remote.”
I walked into the study off the kitchen. The rooms were connected like a big puzzle. Whoever had built the house had continued to make additions over the years. By the time we bought it, it was a maze, but I loved the quirkiness. Even more than that, I loved all the glass on the backside of the house that looked out to the ocean. The entire front view was thick foliage, but on this side, it was nothing but spectacular views. It was my calm. My peace.
The remote was lying on my desk. I glanced at my tablet as I reached for the remote.
Holy shit. I picked up both and jogged back to the kitchen.
“You aren’t going to believe this.”
“What?” Vaughn’s hands were covered in pineapple. He licked his thumb. “What is it?”
“My book just hit the top twenty.” I stared at him, stunned. “It’s number twenty of the charts. Holy shit.” I was stunned.
“Fucking incredible, babe. Your second one.”
I bit my lip and placed the tablet on the table. “I never thought they would do that well. It was such a long-shot to publish them on my own.” I increased the volume on the flat screen so Vaughn could hear the game. I tied an apron around my waist to start peeling potatoes.
“I don’t know why you thought that. Your students always loved you. Anyone who started reading was going to have the same experience.”
I rinsed the first potato under the faucet. “I thought not having the ability to write with my real name would diminish my credibility, but no one cares that it’s a pen name.”
“Because what you have to say is real. Who cares what your name is?” He whacked the top of the pineapple off. “You’re still studying, writing, advising law. That’s all that matters.” He paused. “And your happy.”
“I am. I love what I’m doing. I love the case research. And the more people who read about these obscure forgotten cases, the more I can help people who need this kind of support.” I scraped the skin off the potato. “It’s better than being at American University. And I am in control of my schedule. No Metro.” I smiled.
Vaughn laughed. “No more Metro.”
At first, I was terrified someone would try to figure out my identity. Writing under a pen named seemed like an invitation for a hacker to try to discover who I was. But the more research I did, the more I realized, no one cared. I received active messages and questions from readers, but I handled all of those through my legal blog. And Sheldon, who I had doubted at first, was instrumental in keeping us off the radar. Vaughn and I even joked about flying him to Hawaii for a vacation. The kid needed some sunlight. He had to get out of that theater basement.
As for Lana Foley, her case imploded. She was the first of twenty women to step forward and out Senator Mitcherson. Not being able to help her through to the end was my biggest regret. I realized Lana didn’t need me. She only needed someone to listen. Someone to take her case seriously. And thank God, there were women and men out there who were willing to do just that. I had to sit on the sidelines and applaud everything they could do for her, that I couldn’t. I gave up the right to participate in that fight.
Vaughn piled the pineapple slices and turned around. He ran his hands under the sink before wrapping his hands around my waist. “Did you ever see this? Us here? You writing. Me coaching. Our big beautiful house on the cliff by the ocean.” He kissed my neck. “And making a baby this soon.”
I shook my head. “No. I couldn’t see it. I didn’t know how we were going to make this
happen, but maybe the baby part is the most surprising of all.” I giggled.
It seemed as if once we started talking about it, we couldn’t stop. It was baby, baby, baby. Vaughn was older, but it wasn’t as if mid-thirties for a guy was a biological clock issue. For me, I was nearing thirty. It was something to think about, but I wasn’t worried that we were going to age out of being parents. I never had been. It was something that lingered between us ever since we escaped Paris.
We had left Blackwing. We were successful in something that never happened before.
Maybe it was that zest. That determination to control our narrative that drove us to start a family this quickly. Maybe it was because once we had each other, we didn’t want to let go. A baby was a tangible product of our love. A symbol that we loved each other with breathless intensity.
Or maybe we were more ordinary than we were ready to admit.
Two extraordinary people who for a little while led a remarkable life. A life that seemed curious and romantic. That was built on mountains of wealth and peaks of lies. Intrigue and government deceit. Were those the kind of people who were meant to be parents? I hadn’t thought so before.
Once the cover was gone, underneath it, we just loved each other. We loved each other like regular ordinary husbands and wives. We were two newlyweds who wanted a baby to complete the picture.
I leaned into Vaughn’s chest. “Last Thanksgiving we were in the Bahamas, running from the feds. This Thanksgiving we’re having our first turkey in our new house. And next year we’re going to be sitting at the table with our baby?”
I felt his chest swell with air. “Don’t scare me, babe. Sometimes it feels fast.”
I gripped his hands at my hips. “I think you are the bravest man I know. You walked through fire for me.” It wasn’t often, but when I thought about what Vaughn had truly risked for us to have this life I was almost brought to my knees.
He could have been captured. Tortured. Sent to prison for the rest of his life. And he took that chance. He stared in the face of the bleakest, grimmest prospect and defied it. For me. For us.
“Of all the things to be afraid of, our baby isn’t one of them,” I reminded him.
“I’m not afraid of the baby. You know that.” He turned me to face him. “I have a lot of mistakes to make up for. There is darkness and ugliness in my life that I don’t want our children to ever know about.”
“They won’t.” I slinked my hands to his neck. “To them, you’re going to be Daddy. All they will know is love. They’re going to grow up on this beautiful island in our beautiful house and live a beautiful happy childhood. Trust me.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re so fucking perfect, Em.”
I smiled. “Not always,” I whispered.
“For me you are.” He kissed me and I forgot about the pot of boiling water, or the rolls. I only wanted to taste the sweet pineapple on his lips and feel his body cover mine.
The rest of Thanksgiving dinner could burn. The football game played in the background, while my husband loved me. And I loved him.
Violet’s Roast Chicken Recipe
I love this recipe. So much so that I had Emily make this chicken more than she probably wanted to. Fair warning, it’s not a quick one-pot, easy-mama dinner. It’s not hard, but it does take some time.
Ingredients
1 Whole Chicken (5-6lbs)
Fresh thyme, parsley, sage
Green onions
Bacon
Butter (LOTS!) Softened, not melted. I would plan on 2 cups.
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
Rinse chicken inside and out. Pat dry (this is essential).
Divide herbs in half. Chop half of them, and leave the other half whole.
Start with a cup of butter maybe even 1.5 cups and mix with the chopped herbs. I use my hands and just smoosh it all together.
Stuff butter mixture under the skin. Shove it in there! All around legs, breast, etc.
Stuff the inside of the chicken with the whole herbs, butter (half a cup) and some green onion.
Lay 4-5 strips of bacon across the top of the chicken. You don’t need to secure it. I chop the rest of the green onion and sprinkle around the base of the chicken.
I roast the chicken open in a Dutch Oven, but you can use any roasting pan, letting the chicken rest on the bottom.
Roast 45 minutes and check the temperature. You may need another 30-45 min at this point, depending on the size of your chicken.
Chicken is done at 165 degrees on a meat thermometer.
Remove the bacon and let the top of the chicken brown for another 10 min.
Voila!
Enjoy!
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Also by Violet Paige
Resist Duet
Resist
Surrender
The Crown Series
Tempting the Crown
Risking the Crown
Loving the Crown
Billionaire Contract Duet
Not Husband Material
Not Daddy Material
Don’t Series
Don’t Tell
Don’t Lie
Don’t Promise
Standalone Sports Romance
Dirty Play
Dirty Game
Sidelined
Turn Over
Double Score