Mario falls to one knee and drops his gun. It scatters away and falls into a snowbank on the side of the road. His face falls, like knows it's over. I start to walk over to him, not entirely sure what I'm going to do with him once I get there. As I approach the kneeling mob boss, I see blood on his shoulder – in almost the same spot Hartford was bleeding from. Karma is a bitch.
The debate in my head about whether to kill him or let him live, looms over me.
He makes the decision for me. Before I even have a chance to react, Mario leaps to his feet, quickly drawing another gun he had hidden on him.
I'm caught with my pants down and have no idea what to do. My gun is down, barrel pointing at the ground. I start to bring my weapon to bear, but it's too late. He has me dead to rights.
Time seems to stand still. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth. The loud crack of gunfire rings in my ears. My heart is thundering in my breast. This is it. This is how I'm going to die.
A moment passes, and then another. But I’m still alive. I slowly open my eyes, completely unsure of what’s waiting for me once I do. The first thing I see is Mario, looking up at me with an expression of surprise and horror. In his arrogance, he never imagined he could be hurt. He thought he was bulletproof. Immortal. I watch in grim satisfaction as he stumbles backward, away from the back door of the car – and thankfully, well away from Celeste.
Mario looks up one more time, and then falls face first onto the gravel road. I look over to see Agent Hartford standing just behind me. He’s wincing, his face a mask of tortured agony. Smoke curls from the barrel of his gun, and he looks down at Mario's body, a touch of regret flashing through his eyes.
“You saved my life, man,” I say. “You did what you had to do in an impossible situation. Thank you doesn't even cover it.”
“Don't even think twice about it,” he says, flinching at the pain racking his body. “Now, can we get to a hospital or something?”
“You bet,” I say. “Just a second.”
I run to the other car, careful to give Mario a wide berth, just in case he's playing possum. A snake can still bite you after its death, injecting all of its toxin into you – I figured it's best to handle Mario in exactly the same way.
I tear open the back door. Celeste is just waking up, and the fury inside of me burns even brighter when I see a darkening bruise on her cheek and crusted blood around her nose. She struggles to sit up, and blinks a few times, looking at me like she's not sure if this is real. Her blue eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Grant,” she says, her voice flooded with relief. “You're really here. You're really alive. You came for me.”
I help her out of the car and pull her into a tight embrace. “I told you I'd come for you,” I say. “I'll always come for you. Always.”
I walk her back to our car. Agent Hartford is already in the passenger seat, looking like he's on the verge of passing out from the loss of blood.
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he grumbles. “Now can you get me to the hospital?”
A Christmas miracle? I raise an eyebrow, even as I hurry to get Celeste situated in the back seat.
I start the engine, and for the first time I notice the time and date illuminated on the dashboard. It reads: 11:58 PM, December 24th.
“Thank you, Grant,” Celeste whispers as we speed off into the night.
“You never have to thank me. Ever,” I reply. “I will always come for you, Celeste. You're mine. I'm yours. Always.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Celeste
The beeping and buzzing around me is all too familiar. I groan and open my eyes, recognizing that sterile, acrid hospital stench as soon as I wake up. I stare up at the ceiling for a long time, trying to figure out what's going on, trying to piece everything together in my head. I don't even know how long I've been laying here, lost in thought, when I sense movement off to the side.
I sit up quickly, my heart skipping a beat, but catch my breath when I see it’s only Grant passed out in the chair beside my bed. He looks like he's out cold, but as soon as I move, he does too. He jumps to high alert instantly, his body tense, his eyes scanning the room for any threat to me.
When he sees it's just me sitting up and staring at him, he breaks out into a huge smile. He rushes to my side, taking my hand in his, and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of my knuckles gently.
“You're awake,” he says. “Finally.”
Given everything we've gone through, I know I shouldn't, but when I see his sweet, gentle eyes staring into mine, I just can't resist teasing him.
“Who are you?” I ask, cocking my head and looking at him with the best expression of confusion I can muster.
Grant's face falls for a moment, and there is genuine fear in his eyes – which, of course, makes me feel like an ass. I quickly grab his hand and squeeze it, chuckling the whole time.
“I'm sorry, sweetie. I couldn't resist,” I say. “Just a little amnesiac humor to lighten the mood.”
The corners of his mouth pull back into a cheeky grin. “Funny. Very funny.”
“I thought so,” I tease. “But you made me feel bad for a moment.”
He stares at me with such intensity, that I can't pull my eyes away from his. I lick my lips, craving the feel of his against mine, and I don't even have to ask. It's like he's reading my mind. Taking my face in his hands, he pulls me close and presses those delicious lips against my mouth.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear.
My heart stops. For a moment everything stops, and my breath catches in my throat. Hearing those words fall from his lips, dripping like the sweetest honey, sends tingling goosebumps down my spine.
“I love you, Celeste.”
He repeats himself, sending my heart into drunken stutters as he strokes my face. Grant presses his forehead against mine, so we are staring into each other's eyes. He looks at me with such a softness and tenderness in his face, it makes my heart swell to the point it feels like it might burst.
“I love you too,” I say.
I feel like a tremendous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Everything seems to be moving so fast, but it feels right. Grant starts to kiss me again, but we're interrupted by someone clearing their throat in the doorway. We both look up to see the doctor standing there, trying to avoid looking at us, but failing. She's an older woman, who finally gives up the pretense and smiles at us.
“I almost feel bad for interrupting,” she says. “But I have some good news.”
Grant sits back down in the chair, pulling it closer to the bed and takes my hand in his.
“I'm Doctor Stephens,” the woman says, stepping further into the room. “I've looked over your medical history, and it seems like your past trauma has healed, and there's no new trauma. Outside of some minor abrasions and contusions, everything looks fine to me. You probably passed out from dehydration more than anything else.”
Grant lets out a sigh of relief, running his free hand through his hair, and gives me a warm, wide smile.
“So everything looks good?” he asks. “Everything is fine?”
“Everything is fine,” the doctor says.
She hesitates for a second, as if there's something more she's not telling us. Grant notices it too. I can feel the sudden spike in tension radiating off of him like heat from a stove.
“But?” he asks.
“No buts, it's just – well, with all of the tests we've run, something else came up,” she says.
“What?” I ask, as a chill runs down my spine.
I start thinking of everything that can go wrong. Wondering at what could have just popped up in their otherwise routine testing. Everything from cancer, to multiple sclerosis, to – God even knows what else – flashes through my mind, filling me with the most profound sense of dread.
“But, you said everything is fine,” I say weakly.
“Oh no, everything is fine. There's nothing wrong, Celeste. You're as hea
lthy as the proverbial horse,” she says softly, her eyes darting over to Grant. “But maybe we should talk privately?”
“Privately? There's no need for that. He's not going anywhere,” I say. “Anything you have to tell me, he can hear too.”
The doctor nods and smiles. “Well, as I said, not only are you physically fine and healthy – so is the baby.”
“The baby?” I choke. My mouth suddenly feels like it's filled with sawdust. “What baby?”
“You're pregnant, Celeste. It's still extremely early – only about four weeks – but there was a positive result when we ran the blood work,” she says. “Congratulations.”
I'm stunned and feel like I can't catch my breath. My entire body is numb, and I'm not able to think clearly. I can't even find the words to acknowledge the news. I never expected anything like this. Not in a million years. It's not that I don't want children, it's just all so sudden. After everything I've been through, and what if – oh God.
What if it's Mario's baby? It's too soon to be Grant's, isn't it? I don't know how any of this works. We used condoms every time, but then again, I also used them with Mario. I was always safe. I know they're not always one hundred percent effective, but – I put a lot of trust in them.
“I'm going to leave you two alone,” the doctor says. “I'll get your discharge paperwork ready for you, Miss Amante. Oh, and Merry Christmas.”
“Celeste Amante,” he says, rolling my name over on his tongue. He turns to me with the biggest grin I've ever seen on his face. “It's nice to meet you, Miss Amante.”
As hard as it is to think of anything other than the news, I still manage a chuckle, realizing he's feeling as lost and overwhelmed as I am.
“Oh hush,” I say. “It's not like you don't know me, silly.”
“I never knew your last name.”
“I didn't either until recently, so we're even,” I say.
We both go silent, losing ourselves in our own thoughts. The news of the pregnancy hangs in the air between us. A silent leviathan slinking below the surface. I expect him to ask about the paternity – whether it's his or Mario's – and I try to figure out the best way to tell him that it might not be his. Depending on the timing, anyway. Mario and I had been intimate twice before the incident. Both times, just days prior.
But she said only about four weeks. There’s no way it could be Mario. Right? But how could I be sure?
“About the news she just gave us –” I say, deciding to just go for it.
“Celeste, I love you. And I think it's great news if you do. I've always wanted to be a father,” he says.
He says it quickly – almost a little too quickly. Almost like he's trying to convince himself. But as I study him a lot closer, I can tell that he's happy. He's happier than I’ve ever seen him. He wants to be a father. The man I love wants me to have his baby – but I may be carrying another man's child.
“Grant, what if – I mean, I know she said only four weeks, but –”
I choke back the sobs and bring my hands to my mouth, trying my best to stifle all the emotion before it comes pouring out of me. Trying my best to not acknowledge what could be the reality of the situation.
“But what if I'm not the father?” he finishes for me.
I don't trust myself to speak right away. Even if I was ready to speak, I probably couldn’t even say the words. Instead I just nod my head and give him the best smile I can – hoping it doesn't look as fake as it feels. My heart can't take it anymore, and the tears flow down my cheeks freely.
“I can't lose you,” I say.
“Shh, baby,” he says, scooting even closer to me, wiping my tears away. He kisses my cheeks and forehead, the look on his face earnest. “You're not going to lose me. If the baby isn't mine, that's okay. I'll still be the father he or she deserves.”
“You'd do that?” I ask.
“Haven't I proven that I'd do anything for you already?”
He envelops me in his arms, wrapping himself around me as best he can, and holds me tight. I curl into him, nuzzling my face against his neck, breathing him in. Everything about this man is so perfect, it hurts. The tears continue to fall, but they're tears of happiness.
“God, I love you so much,” I whisper, brushing my lips against his neck.
Grant shudders. “If you keep that up, I might have to get in that bed with you,” he says. “And I'm not sure how the hospital staff will respond to that.”
I laugh and nip his earlobe gently. “We'll be home soon.”
“Indeed,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
“Oh, there's something you should know,” I say. “About Sam.”
Grant's ears perk up. “Go on.”
“He wasn't involved in the mafia, not in the traditional sense. Mario was trying to scare him into submission, but he didn't budge. He died doing the right thing.”
Grant's face shows me everything I need to know. He's known this all along. He knew his best friend wasn't a monster. Part of me thinks mine wasn't either. She died protecting me. Her only crime was merely being born into the wrong family.
As far as I'm concerned, Tasha died a hero. Just like Sam.
* * *
The cabin is just as I remember it. Cozy, warm, and inviting. The minute we step through the door, there's an overwhelming feeling of safety and security. It's like simply crossing the threshold has eased my fears, taken away my pain, and filled me with nothing but the purest feeling of warmth and love.
As soon as we're inside, Grant wraps me in his big, strong arms, and I know that everything will be okay. No matter what happens, no matter whose baby I'm carrying, we will be okay.
I have my hero, and he has me. He is mine and I am his.
Grant lifts me up in his powerful arms and holds me to him. Pressed to his body like I am, I giggle as my feet are left dangling off the floor while we kiss. I've never felt as safe as I do in this moment. With his face against mine, his beard scratching my chin, he carries me across the cabin toward the bedroom, and I feel my heart swell like it never has before.
“I thought I lost you,” I say, nuzzling my face against his neck to reassure myself that he's real, and not just some elaborate fantasy I've woven in my head.
“You'll never lose me, Celeste,” he says.
He lays me down gently on the bed but remains standing. He looks down at me, his eyes sliding up and down my body, taking in every inch of me. Just from the expression on his face, a pleasant warmth floods through me. He looks at me as if I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.
We're both broken, bruised, and scarred. We've seen too much. We've lost too much. But we still have each other. And that has to count for something.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he says.
My heart skips a beat as I listen to the words falling from his lips. I can't believe he said those words to me. I let them roll around in my mind and my heart shudders – almost stops. The electric tingle of true happiness, unlike anything I've ever felt before though, is undeniable.
He continues, “I know it's early, but almost losing you like that –” he pauses mid-sentence for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “It made me realize how much you mean to me. And how much I never want to lose you.”
He drops down on the bed beside me, and I roll over to face him. He curls his body around mine, pulling me to him, and kisses me deeply.
“I love you, Celeste,” he says.
“I love you too, Grant,” I say.
He strokes my face tenderly, holding my gaze with a look of sweet, gentle love on his face. The golden color pops from his hazel eyes, fueling his intense stare with an inner fire that almost makes them glow. Grant caresses my back, pulls me closer to him, and then he rolls me over so I'm on top of him. He raises himself and kisses me again, touching every part of me. We're as close as two people can be with their clothes on.
He plants soft kisses on my lips, then my neck. Slowly, Grant inches his way down to
my cleavage, his lips soft and warm against my skin. He lifts up my shirt, then, seeming to be growing impatient, rips it off over my head. Next, the bra comes off quickly. Cupping a breast in each hand, he brings a nipple to his mouth, sucking gently. I gasp at the sensation of his mouth on me, relishing in the tingling feeling shooting down my body.
He pulls at my pants, trying to tug them down over my hips.
“Off,” he demands.
Wiggling and giggling, the two of us manage to get my pants off, and then I turn to him. I clumsily try to remove his belt, not getting it off quickly enough for my liking. When I do, his pants quickly follow. His cock is already hard and is standing at attention, ready for me.
Grasping his firm rod in my hands, I stroke it. My pale, white fingers look so tiny wrapped around his long, thick member. I lick my lips my heart racing. I want nothing more than to feel him in my mouth. Still on top of him, I lift up his shirt and kiss a line down his chest, tasting every inch of him.
I move down his body until I'm between his legs, his cock throbbing in my hand. Lowering myself, I flick my tongue, and tease the tip. His body tightens underneath me, and I take him into my mouth as deep as I can, making up the difference with my hand. A small moan escapes his lips.
All I want is to make him feel good. His pleasure matters more to me than anything else in the world right now. I move my tongue up and down, my mouth and hand working together in unison to bring him ecstasy. I turn my eyes upward, meeting his gaze as he strokes my cheek. The way his eyes are focused on me makes me feel like he sees me as a living goddess.
I'm his, and he's mine. I want to give him my everything.
“Come here,” he growls. “I need to be inside you.”
I climb back on top of him, and our lips meet as my pussy rubs against him. He slips and slides between my thighs, rubbing against my clit and teasing my opening.
Trembling, I whimper, “Please, I need you too.”
Grant reaches for his pants, pulling out a condom. I shake my head.
“No,” I say. “I trust you. We're going to be a family.”
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