by Aly Martinez
Her green eyes sparkled as she lifted her hand to my cheek. “Why do you always have to piss me off? Why can’t you just start with the romantic speech?” She hooked her arm around my neck and pressed her lips to mine.
“Because then I’d miss your attitude,” I murmured, pushing her back onto the bed and following her down.
She giggled against my mouth.
“Is that a yes?” I asked.
She stared up at me like the innocent angel I’d met all those years earlier.
And then she gave me back my life. “It’s always a yes, Roman.”
Five years later…
“Don’t forget to pack the bottles!” I yelled down the stairs to Roman.
“I said I’ve got them already!” he yelled back.
“You don’t have to be so rude, you know?”
“You don’t have to micromanage everything I do, either.”
I rolled my eyes. I was not a micromanager. Far from it.
Well, kind of.
“Did you actually put the formula in them?” I shouted.
A very unhappy Roman suddenly appeared at the base of the stairwell with a pink, floral diaper bag draped over his shoulder. “I swear to Christ, Lis. I said I’d pack the baby’s bag so you could get dressed while she takes her morning nap. But, if you are just going to scream down all the crap I’ve already packed, then I’ll gladly unpack it so you can do it your damn self.”
“You did not just say that,” I spat.
He planted a hand on his hip and glared at me. “Oh, I said it. And, if you don’t knock it off with the attitude, I’m gonna do it too.”
Being a parent was hard.
Like really freaking hard.
But throw in a bossy, overprotective father, a baby with colic, and a grand total of ten hours of sleep in two weeks and it became exponentially harder.
I loved Roman more than anything, and I believed with my whole heart that he was my soul mate. But damn, parenting with someone was enough to make you question the universe’s matchmaking skills.
“I dare you,” I whispered ominously.
His silver eyes narrowed on me as he reached into the bag and very slowly pulled a purple swaddling blanket out before sending it fluttering to the floor.
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, praying for patience that would never be found.
After a few years of healing both physically and mentally, Roman and I had decided to try to start a family—again. However, this time, we had gone into it with a different mind-set and took a different path.
Neither of us had had any desire to attempt IVF again. As far as we were concerned, that was a bridge better left burned. I’d never regret the family we got out of our first attempt—Tripp, Tessa, Clare, and Heath. But that was the end of it for us.
Adoption became the obvious avenue. It was an expensive and time-consuming process, but the good news was money was no longer a factor for us and I got to spend that time waiting with Roman. Even if it was arguing.
“Pick it up,” I ordered.
He cocked his head to the side. “Drop the attitude.”
“What’s wrong? I thought you loved my attitude,” I smarted
A sinister smirk curled his lips as he dropped the bag to the floor. “Oh, I do. Mainly because I enjoy fucking it out of you.” He took a step up.
Oh shit.
I knew that glint in his eye all too well.
“Roman, no! I have to get dressed.”
He took another step up, his smile growing.
“Mom!” Parker yelled from the playroom.
Roman froze, but his heated eyes remained locked on me as he replied, “Yeah, buddy?”
Parker Tripp Leblanc had come into our lives three years earlier via international adoption when he had been eighteen months old. I would never, for as long as I lived, forget the day we’d brought him home. Wounds I hadn’t known were still inside me had suddenly healed. I’d told myself I could have lived a lifetime with only Roman, and it was the absolute truth. But that was before we’d experienced life with Parker.
Watching Roman as a father was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. He was amazing with Parker. Patient, loving, and gentle as he helped our little boy adjust to a new life and culture. It only cemented the fact that I wanted more children with him.
And, only six weeks earlier, after a year of waiting, a three-a.m. call had come, matching us with a newborn baby girl via domestic adoption. By four a.m., we’d dropped Parker off with Kristen and her husband, Seth (yes, that Seth), and we were on our way to Savannah, Georgia, to meet our daughter. With her dark-brown hair and even darker eyes, Alissa Cathleen was perfect. How a person could instantly fall in love with a tiny, wrinkly thing that did nothing but scream in their face for hours on end was beyond me. But, oh my God, how we loved that little girl.
And we started our life as a new family of four.
After years of being a workaholic, Roman had finally hired a CEO and turned the reins of Leblanc Industries over. He still worked a lot, but he’d become strict about keeping a nine-to-five schedule. I even went back to work, too. I gave up real estate and started working part time as an interior designer. It was my true passion, even if my clients did drive me crazy with their outlandish requests sometimes. (I’m sorry, but cowboy chic was not a real thing—or, at least, it shouldn’t be.)
“Can I watch a movie?” Parker asked.
“No!” I replied.
At the same time Roman yelled, “Yes!”
“Yay!” he squealed, apparently only having heard his father.
I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. “We have to leave in thirty minutes. We don’t have time for him to watch a movie. We have to drive the kids all the way to your parents’ house, and Clare is going to lose her mind if we’re late!”
Roman took another step up. “A movie could buy us fifteen minutes alone before we have to leave.” He smirked. “The baby’s asleep. Li’l man is watching Lego people save the world. We could shut the door and discuss your attitude the proper way.”
“The proper way?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.
“Mmmm,” he groaned, taking the last four steps two at a time.
I backed away, but I did it wanting to be caught.
And Roman was never one to disappoint. He shoved his hand into the back of my hair just as my back hit the wall. His lips went straight to my ear, where he explained, “Naked. With you apologizing by coming on my cock.”
A shiver traveled down my spine.
He traced a hand up my thigh and under my skirt. My breath hitched as his finger brushed over my core, igniting me.
“What do you say, Lis?” His teeth raked over the base of my neck. “You got fifteen minutes to spare for your man?”
I was sleep deprived, cranky, and in a rush.
But it was Roman.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Get out!” I barked at all four of my sisters as I herded them to the door.
“That is not fair. Clare loves us,” Melanie defended, flashing a smile at Clare.
Clare did love them. But she also loved to join them in their ruthless attempts to harass me. It was never a good day for me when the five of them got together. Or so I pretended as I smiled, secretly listening to them laugh like a bunch of old hens.
Maggie moved to the front of the huddle, her engagement ring twinkling on her finger as she patted my chest. “We got it. You’re a big, bad tough guy and she’s your wife. But I’m going to need you to put away your loin cloth and let us give her a hug before we go.”
I had proposed to Clare about two months after Noir died. I would have done it sooner, and it had killed me to watch her stomach swelling without my ring on her finger, but I hadn’t wanted her to associate that happy moment in our life together with the memories of that day at his house. So I’d performed the damn near heroic feat of waiting.
One day, after she had come home from a day o
f shopping with Elisabeth, Tessa and I surprised her with a homemade version of Wheel of Fortune—complete with me in an ugly brown Pat Sajak suit and Tessa dressed in a gown, acting as my Vanna White. On a poster board covered with sticky notes were the words Will You Marry Me. Per the game rules, I’d given her R, S, T, L, N, and E, so it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out. However, as she cried, staring at me through bright-blue eyes, she guessed every single letter that we both knew was not on that board. After she’d gone through most of the alphabet and finally guessed an X, I laughed and dropped to a knee, muttering, “Jesus, you are terrible at this.”
She said, “yes.”
And, one month later, in a small ceremony at the botanical garden, we both said, “I do.”
And, then a few months after that, a doctor announced the magical words that changed my life all over again: “It’s a girl.”
Shelby Grace Light was born via C-section, looking just like her mother. While she hadn’t exactly been planned, in a lot of ways, she healed us all. She was beautiful, and the way Tessa’s face lit up when she held her baby sister made me believe in divine intervention.
They shared not a strand of the same DNA, but those were my girls. Through and through.
I tore my gaze from my sisters and looked over my shoulder to Clare. An infectious smile split her face, and her eyes danced with a heart-stopping combination of happiness and love. It was everything I’d ever wanted for her. And, because she was my wife, I got it all too. I clenched my jaw to suppress my grin and stepped out of the way for my sisters to pass.
After hugs, jokes at my expense, and then more hugs, they finally left.
But, no sooner had my shoulders sagged in relief than the door swung open again.
“We’re here!” Elisabeth called, rushing into the room, her heels clicking on the hospital floor.
“Oh, thank God,” Clare sighed. “I didn’t want them to start without you. I literally had to fight off the doctor a minute ago.”
“Aunt Elisabeth!” Tessa exclaimed, jumping off the edge of the bed. “Can you take me to the barn? Pleeeeeease! There’s a baby goat that’s about to have a baby. My horseback riding trainer said she’d let me watch!”
I groaned. “For the seven billionth time, you aren’t going to the barn today, sweet girl.”
“Dad!” She stomped her foot. “That’s not fair!”
“Sweet Jesus.” I stared up at the ceiling. “Deliver me from the estrogen.”
Roman sauntered into the room. “I can take her.”
“Yes!” she shrieked.
“She’s not going to the barn,” I declared. “Your mother is having a baby, Tessi. I’m not really concerned with goats today.”
“Heath, honey,” Clare called, her voice filled with humor.
But Tessa was too busy complaining like only an eight-year-old girl knew how for me to pay her mother any attention.
“I’ve never seen a baby goat before. And Mom’s baby is going to look just like Shelby,” she argued. “And I’ve seen her, like, every day for four years.” She walked over and hugged my hips. “Please, Daddy.”
I’d been “Dad” to Tessa for several years, but the “Daddy” was relatively new. It was my kryptonite, and she knew it.
When Shelby had been around two, Tessa had started randomly calling me Dad. She’d slip it in occasionally, always peeking up at me or her mom to see if we were going to correct her. I had to struggle to breathe every time I heard her say it. One night, after a long talk with Clare, I’d sat Tessa down before bedtime and asked her if she wanted to start calling me dad all the time.
Her emerald eyes had filled with tears as she’d peered up at me and asked, “Does it mean you’ll really be my dad?”
I’d nearly passed out from the lack of oxygen in that neon-pink room. I nodded at least seven thousand times but couldn’t choke out a single word.
The very next day, I’d hired an attorney and legally filed for adoption.
Tessa Noir would forever be Tessa Light.
Well, until she turned forty and got married. Or I convinced her to become a nun and marry Jesus. Whichever came first.
“Give it up, kid,” Roman said, fluffing Tessa’s hair as he went straight to Shelby and scooped her into his arms. “You ready to be a big sister?” he asked, tossing her in the air.
She squealed with delight.
Roman and Elisabeth were fixtures in our life. We all went to Tessa’s horse shows each weekend and spent nearly every holiday together. Our kids played—and fought—like siblings, Tessa acting as the bossy big sister to them all.
While Roman and I were tight, Clare and Elisabeth were inseparable. If they weren’t together, they were texting or talking on the phone. She’d been the only one Clare trusted to keep the kids when it was finally time for her scheduled, repeat C-section.
“So, are we finally ready in here?” a nurse said as she came through the door.
A unanimous, “Yes!” came from the entire room, except for Tessa, who cried into my stomach, “But it’s a baby goat!”
“All right! I’ll call down and let the OR know,” the nurse said, backing out of the packed room.
“Okay. We’ll be in the waiting room.” Elisabeth leaned over the bed to give Clare a hug. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you for doing this. I know Alissa is still so little. But I really wanted the girls to be here as soon as she’s born,” Clare said, releasing her.
“He,” I corrected. “When he’s born.”
Roman shot me a who-are-you-kidding glare.
We’d decided not to find out the gender at the ultrasound, but I was holding on to hope for a boy.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Elisabeth said. “Cathy has been praying you’d go into labor early so she could get her hands on that baby. I’m surprised she hasn’t been delivering you dinners laced with castor oil.”
Clare laughed.
Shelby froze, her big, blue eyes flashing wide. “Is Grandma Cathy coming?”
“Nah. She’s at home with Parker and Baby Lis. She’ll come see you tomorrow though, I’m sure,” Roman said, setting her back on her feet.
“Girls, go give your mom a kiss,” I ordered.
Tessa might have still been upset about missing the coveted goat birth, but she did love her mama and quickly went to her side for a long hug and a kiss. Shelby fell into line behind her.
“Come on, girls,” Elisabeth said, taking both of their hands. “Let’s go raid the vending machines.”
I kissed both the girls on the top of their heads before they left.
Roman squeezed my shoulder. “Good luck. We’ll be in the waiting room. Keep us updated.”
“Thanks, man.”
Once we were finally alone, I made my way over to Clare’s bed. She scooted over so I could sit beside her.
“You okay?” I asked.
She smiled and began picking invisible lint off the blanket. “Nervous, I guess. But I’m okay.”
“I love you. You know that, right?”
Her eyes lit. “I definitely know that.”
“Any chance you gonna return that love by giving me a boy?”
She reached for my hand and rested it on her stomach. “I’ll do my best.”
We both fell silent, but Clare continued to fidget.
After several minutes, I whispered, “Lean on me, babe. You don’t have to be brave right now.”
Her gaze shot to mine, and her chin started to quiver. “I’m scared.”
But, even at her weakest, Clare had always been brave. I wasn’t completely sure she knew how to be anything else.
I shifted toward her and tucked her hair behind her ear. “We’ll wait until you’re ready.”
She smiled weakly and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Maybe just a minute?”
“Whatever you need, Clare.”
A minute turned into twenty.
However, with Clare in my arms, I would have waited a lifetime.
>
Fortunately, I didn’t have to.
An hour later, at exactly 11:11 a.m., Noah Heath Light was born.
I didn’t even have to use a wish.
Transfer
The Retrieval Duet
THE END
Other Books by Aly Martinez
The Retrieval Duet
Retrieval
Transfer
The Fall Up
The Spiral Down
The Wrecked and Ruined Series
Changing Course
Stolen Course
Broken Course
Among the Echoes
On the Ropes
Fighting Silence
Fighting Shadows
Fighting Solutude
Savor Me
Born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, Aly Martinez is a stay-at-home mom to four crazy kids under the age of five, including a set of twins. Currently living in South Carolina, she passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine at her side.
After some encouragement from her friends, Aly decided to add “Author” to her ever-growing list of job titles. So grab a glass of Chardonnay, or a bottle if you’re hanging out with Aly, and join her aboard the crazy train she calls life.
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