by Jade Allen
Had I heard her right? Who was ‘we’? Unless…it suddenly made sense; the morning she’d kicked me to the curb had been after the night spent at the hospital with Hope.
Sarah was pregnant.
And that was the real reason she was adamant about me taking a hike.
I waited to feel the heavy weight in my stomach or for an innate sense of panic to make me want to run for the hills.
It didn’t come.
Sarah was pregnant with our child. I was going to be a father. I should have felt terrified…or trapped, but I felt…in awe. Excited. Home.
“You’re pregnant,” I told her matter-of-factly.
She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. And so, I did the only thing I could think of that would convey some small part of what I was feeling. I pulled her close before she could anticipate what I was doing, and covered her lips with mine. Her body was rigid, but it didn’t stay that way. After a moment, her shoulders relaxed and her hands came up to the back of my neck.
I don’t know how long we stayed that way, locked in an embrace that conveyed more than mere words ever could. “I love you, Sarah,” I whispered against her lips as I pulled back just slightly. “And I’m going to love our baby…and our white-picket fence…and anything else in my life, as long as you’re in it.”
“You’re not lying?” she asked, her tone full of incredulity while she scrutinized my face.
“No, I’m not.”
“I love you, too, and that’s why…”
I pressed my finger against her lips. “I understand why. But I want to be here. There’s nowhere else I’ll ever want to be.”
It was time to move on, just like Erik had said, and I was ready. I was ready for a brand-new life; one I was already certain would be full of far more adventure and excitement than my old life could ever have offered…even if we never left the small, perfect town of Westport.
Epilogue
Declan
(3 years, 7 months later)
“Alright my little cowboy, time to blow out your candles. Don’t forget to make a wish,” I whispered to my son Liam, who was decked out in his favorite Western outfit, complete with a ten-gallon hat and a holster for his Billy the Kid toy gun.
Liam’s eyes poured over the massive cowboy-themed ice cream cake topped with a huge number three candle that Sarah had ordered for the occasion. He inhaled slowly, his cheeks puffing up, and when his lungs were full, he paused for a moment and locked his eyes with mine, giving a quick wink before blowing out all the candles in one big huff.
We all clapped and whistled as Liam leaned back in his chair looking proud. “I’m free,” he announced with glee—he was still working on his ‘thr’ sound—and my three nephews huddled around him in excitement.
Sarah covered her swollen belly with one hand and began passing out forks and plates with the other, first to the kids, and then to my sister Hope and her husband John and me. “Alright, I hope everyone likes mint chocolate chip. It’s the birthday boy’s favorite,” she said as she began to carefully carve the cake.
John nudged me, leaning in as he asked, “Hey Declan, when’s that famous BBQ chicken of yours going to be ready? I’m starving.”
“I’m sorry, man, it’ll be ready soon. We’d meant to serve lunch first, but this morning, the little guy insisted on opening presents early, so we thought we’d do the cake now instead. Can I get you a beer? I just picked up a case of this great IPA from Vermont that none of the stores around here can seem to keep in stock,” I offered.
“Sure, I’ll take one of those in the meantime,” John said.
“You’ve got it. Hey Liam, I know you’re chomping at the bit to open your presents, but Daddy has to run in the house for a second. Just hold tight for a few and enjoy the cake with your cousins. I’ll be right back.”
Liam nodded obediently, raised his fork to the large cake slice that Sarah had served him and began digging in with gusto.
I made my way onto the deck, took a peek at the food on the grill and popped into the kitchen. I grabbed two IPAs, a bag of chips and an empty bowl as Sarah and Hope were making their way inside.
“I know I’ve seen it, what, about a hundred times now, but can I please get another peek at the insane rock you have on your finger just one more time?” Hope begged when she got inside.
Sarah obliged and splayed the fingers of her left hand for my sister, turning to look me in the eye, “I have to admit, Hope, I still can’t believe your brother splurged like he did.”
“It’s so beautiful; I just love the setting and those accent stones are precious,” Hope gushed.
“My hands are almost full, but I can grab something else if you ladies can think of anything else we need out there,” I interjected.
“Oh, no, I’m here to help, Declan. Let me grab the beer and everything else you’re carrying and you go help your very pregnant wife,” Hope volunteered.
I passed everything in my arms off to my sister and took Sarah in my arms. “Can you believe how far we’ve come, babe? Remember how I used to rail against the idea of kids and white picket fences? Now look at us.”
“You’re right, a lot has changed, but thankfully, a lot still hasn’t,” Sarah cooed in my ear as her left hand rubbed my back, the other hand making its way around to the bulge growing in my jeans.
“Fuck…last night…god, you were incredible,” I gushed.
“I was incredible? You were relentless,” Sarah teased.
I pulled back, feigning a smug face and shrugged, “What can I say? I’m a man with an insatiable appetite.”
“Yeah, well you’d better watch those IPAs, or you’ll start developing a Dadbod like your brother-in-law out there,” she chided.
I pulled her in close, grabbing her firmly by the hips and kissed her deeply. “Once we wrap everything up later and the little man is asleep, I want to see if we can break last night’s record. They say the fourth time is a charm.”
Sarah laughed, “I’m so glad I listened to you when you insisted that we set up Liam’s room on the opposite end of the house from our room.”
I gave her a quick squeeze and patted her on the ass. “Alright, we should start to bring out the presents. I’ll grab the big one. I put the smaller, lighter ones in a bag over there near the fridge if you want to grab that,” I motioned.
As we made our way back out to the party, Liam and his cousins were running around playing tag while Hope and John were busy clearing the dessert plates from table.
“Alright, everyone. It’s time for presents!” I shouted.
The kids stopped dead in their tracks and dashed over to the picnic table, bouncing around with excitement. Before I could place the largest present on the table, Liam was already shouting, “I want the big one, Daddy! Let me open the big one!”
Sarah followed, placing the smaller gifts by Liam and sat down next to me.
“Alright, buddy, it’s your big day. If that’s what you want, that’s what you get,” I said as I carefully placed the large box down in front of him.
He paused and looked up at me, waiting for approval.
“Go ahead, Liam. Open it!”
His eyes widened as he lurched toward the gift and swiftly began tearing the paper away. When he realized what it was, he jumped back and covered his mouth with both hands.
“A moto-cyco! Just like Daddy’s moto-cyco,” he exclaimed.
“Well, it’s close, buddy. It’s a tricycle that looks like Daddy’s motorcycle,” I said as I freed it from the box and placed it in the grass. “Check it out, it even has flames on the side like Daddy’s bike,” I pointed out.
Sarah chimed in and handed him a smaller gift from the table, “Wait, this goes with it, Liam. You have to open this one next.”
Liam hungrily took the small box in his hands and methodically ripped the paper away to reveal a plastic motorcycle helmet that resembled mine to a T.
“Try it on, buddy,” I said as I carefully removed his prized te
n-gallon hat and replaced it with the helmet. His eyes lit up as he jumped on his new bike, and before we could tell him to be careful, he sped away through the backyard as his cousins chased after him.
A feeling of gratitude washed over me and I almost welled up, but I managed to control myself. I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed in just a matter of a few years. I had married the most amazing woman and now lived in a beautiful home—white picket fence and all.
Fatherhood had given me a new perspective on life and made me truly appreciate every moment that I was able to spend time with my family. Our son reminded me more and more of Sarah and me every day, and although it was too early to tell, it seemed like he inherited the best of both of us.
Once I settled down with Sarah, I happily gave up the old business, and ‘put it all away’ as her father had urged in his letter to me. I didn’t miss my past life for a second, but at the same time, I didn’t regret where I had come from. Being in such a dangerous trade taught me how to not only protect myself and others in ways that normal guys would never understand, but I knew that if anyone ever threatened me—or my family—I knew I had what it takes to protect what I held dear.
Just then, Liam circled back, pulled the e-brake on his bike and spun out right in front of us, like a miniature stunt man. He leapt up from the bike, reached for his holster, and pulled his toy gun out in one move, shouting, “Bang! Bang! Bang! I’m gonna get all the bad guys.”
I shot Sarah a sideways glance. Shock began to spread over my face until I realized that we were the only ones who knew the truth about both her father’s past and mine.
“Looks like we might have a future vigilante on our hands. I wonder where he picked that up from? Better keep an eye this guy,” John joked as we all broke into laughter.
As my tension eased, Sarah smirked, rubbing the top of my hand and giving me a knowing look. We had nothing to worry about; our secrets were safe. The darkness of the past was far behind us and the future ahead was so bright.
THE END
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Bonuses From Red Lily Authors Jade Allen, Meg Ripley & Sierra Wyatt
Contemporary Romances: Bad Boys, Billionaires & Romantic Suspense
Julian
I’m the lead guitarist in one of the most successful bands in the Miami scene named Molly Riot. Our label is trying to convince us to tour with Juniper Woolf, a rival band that’s fronted by an attention-seeking brat named Fran Chambers.
When my band mates finally convinced me to sign off on the tour, I thought there was no way that I’d ever get along with Fran…that is, until I started spending time alone with her on the tour bus.
You know, I’ve gotta say, no woman has ever had such a pull on me. We can’t keep our hands off each other, but the problem is, we can’t let anyone else in either of our bands know about our little tryst. If the press were to get a hold of this, we’d all be in for one hell of a sh*tstorm.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to hook up on a tour bus without anyone else knowing about it? I’ll tell you one thing, if the two of us can keep this a secret, we’ll each deserve an Oscar…
CHAPTER ONE
I shifted in my chair, looking around at the other members of the band; Ron had just left the room “to give you time to discuss the proposition from the label,” and true to our forms, we’d all stopped talking altogether.
“It’s not a bad deal,” Dan said quietly, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, but fucking Juniper Woolf? Are they even serious with that shit?” Nick shook his head in disgust. I twisted my hips so I could fish a half-finished pack of cigarettes out of my pocket; Alex looked at me as I shook one free of the box and found my lighter.
“If we can keep Julian from killing Fran, it might work,” Alex suggested.
“I won’t kill her,” I said, lighting my cigarette and taking as long a drag as I could fill my lungs with. “I’ll leave her alive.”
“The only reason they think this is a good idea is because of Jules’ rivalry with her,” Mark pointed out. “Maybe if you had a filter, dude…”
“Maybe if I had a filter I wouldn’t notice how much of an attention whore she is?” I rolled my eyes and blew smoke through my nose. “We can’t do it.”
“They’re promising us an extra half million for the next album if we do,” Dan pointed out. “And a bonus if their first album on the label sells fifty thousand.”
“We’re never going to see even a cent of that fucking bonus, dude,” I told Dan. “Who the hell’s going to buy the Juniper Woolf album? Fucking nobody, that’s who.” I took another drag of my cigarette and shook my head.
“Still, just the extra half mil is worth it,” Alex said. “We could make the next album huge with that kind of money.”
“That’s assuming none of us ends up in prison,” Mark said.
“Julian is all talk about Fran,” Nick told everyone. “He just doesn’t want to work with her because he’s worried she’ll cut in on his wanking time.”
“Like he’d even hesitate to jerk off with her in the room,” Alex said.
“If she walked in on me that’d be her problem,” I pointed out. Nick dug a cigarette out of his gig bag and lit it, and for a moment silence filled the room again.
“Half a million more for the next album,” Dan said finally. “Guys—that’s not chump change and you all know it.”
“Neither is two billion,” I said, flicking the ash off the end of my cigarette in the general area of the ashtray. “But working with Juniper Woolf isn’t worth that, either.”
“Come on, Jules,” Alex said, looking me in the eye. “This could be really good for us.”
“Besides, apart from getting yourself involved with a drug ring like Mr. Alex North over here, or having sex with the rising music press star like Nick, what else can you do to promote us that would be better than putting aside your stupid fucking feud with Fran Chambers?” asked Mark.
I glanced at Mark. “I didn’t know it was my fucking job to promote us,” I told him. “I thought we had someone taking fifteen fucking percent from our royalties for that.”
“What’s your problem with her, anyway?” Dan looked up at me from his position on the floor, an eyebrow raised in query.
“Jules doesn’t need anything so petty as a reason to hate someone,” Nick said with a smirk. “He can judge someone’s worthiness within thirty seconds of meeting them.”
“He’s never made a decision that works against the interests of the band, though,” Dan countered. “I want to know where this all started.” I shrugged, leaning over the arm of the chair and reaching for the acoustic guitar I’d put aside when Ron had come in.
“She’s just an attention-seeking bitch and I can’t stand her,” I said, splaying my fingers over the fret board until I found the chord I wanted and picked at a few of the strings.
“They met like a year ago,” Nick told Dan. “We were out after one of the shows, and caught the tail end of Juniper Woolf.”
“So, what happened?” I kept playing, ignoring Alex’s question; it had been around about the time that Alex had been either in rehab—meeting his girlfriend Mary—or on the run from the main dealer in South Florida.
“She threw glitter at him from the stage,” Nick said with a shrug. “Apparently, she does that a lot.”
“Like I said,” I cut in, “she’s an attention-seeking bitch.”
“Did you get glitter in your eye or something?” Dan looked at me, incredulous. “I mean it’s not like we haven’t done some crazy shit to get attention.”
“You played an entire show in an Elvis costume,” Mark pointed out. “It wasn’t Halloween.”
“You guys were in costumes, too,” I said. “It’s not like I was the only person on the stage in a fucking costume.”
“But you still did it,” Alex insisted.
“Costumes are one thing,” I told him, shaking my head. “Throwing glitter at people? Christ.”
“Green glitter at that,” Nick said with a smirk. I stubbed out my cigarette and went back to playing.
“Can’t you put your stupid rivalry with her aside for a few months to get a deal for us?” I looked up at Alex and sighed.
“I will if she does,” I said, knowing I sounded petty as shit and not even caring. “Besides, she owes me an apology.”
“I doubt you’re going to get that from her,” Mark said, shaking his head.
“She’s not that bad,” Dan said. “I met her last week at Respectables up in West Palm.”
“The hell were you doing in West Palm?” I frowned at Dan.
“Girl I know works up there,” he said with a shrug. “Her car broke down and she needed a ride.”
“A ride or a ride?” In spite of myself, I laughed at Nick’s clarification.
“She got home safely in the morning,” Dan said, smiling slightly. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that Juniper Woolf was playing Respects and I chatted with them a bit afterward.”
“And what’s your verdict?” Alex looked from Dan to me and I played an off chord just to irritate him.
“They’re legit,” Dan said, shrugging. “Offstage, Fran’s pretty nice.”
“Did you give her a ride, too?” I gave Dan a significant look.
“She had a ride,” Dan told me. “Went home with the rest of her band after closing.”
“Jules,” Alex said, shifting in his chair and lighting a cig, “You’re the only holdout in the band. Come on, man—it can’t possibly be that bad. We’ll play a few joint shows with them, do a little PR bullshit, act like buddies for a few months, and get a huge fucking paycheck at the end of it all.”