“Yeah, you try saying it five times fast.”
So she did, and stumbled halfway through the first time, and then, just to show off, Titus went through several times, each time faster than the last, never stumbling.
Isabela turned around and searched the shelf, finding one particular book. She looked at me. “Can you read this one?”
I came and sat down on the giant bean bag chair, Titus’s long legs wrapping around my hips. “Sure, sweetie. Let’s see.” I took the book, and sighed. “Guess How Much I Love You?”
Isabela watched with wide, sad eyes as I opened it. “That’s Mommy’s favorite book to read to me. She would make her voice all soft and nice.”
“I’ll do my best.” I took a deep breath, and began reading, in my softest, quietest voice.
When I’d finished the story, my throat was tight and even Titus was blinking a little faster than normal.
Isabela took the book back from me. “Thank you.”
I smiled. “Of course, sweetie.”
She just held the book. “Can I…can I be alone, now? I want to think about Mommy.”
Titus ruffled her hair. “Sure. We’ll be downstairs if you need us.”
We paused together at the top of the stairs, and I rested my head against his chest. “What in the hell did we get ourselves into?”
He shook his head. “She’s six. How is she handling it so well? Like, she’s amazing.”
I huffed a laugh of agreement. “Right? I was thinking that, myself.” I gazed up at him. “You’re really good with her.”
He sighed. “Thanks.” A long pause. “I wish…” He trailed off.
“What?”
“I dunno, it’s hard to say it right. Clearly, Maria was a great mom to her. I always had this resentment, you know? Like, this anger. I felt so wronged. She tricked me into impregnating her, didn’t tell me until after she’d had the baby, asked for money, and then refused to let me see my own daughter even one time. How do I reconcile that to someone who so clearly loved and took great care of that little girl in there? What do I do with that?”
“People can have different sides of themselves, I guess, right?” I scratched his jaw. “And people also do change. I don’t know. I know you can have your own version of Maria, and your experience with her is your own personal experience. Nothing can change that. But Isabela has her own experience of her mother. The person that you are with me, with her, that’s a different kind of person than the rock star who goes out on stage, the one who signs things and poses for pictures with fans and all that. And it’s not the same as the rock star legendary for a wild, hard, crazy life. It’s all you right? I guess what I’m saying is, Maria could do the things to you that she did, and still be a wonderful, loving, attentive mother who worked hard to provide for her child and put aside money for her future rather than spending it on herself. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just tricky to put it together into a single picture of a person, you know? I suppose I shouldn’t expect to understand Maria, though—I met her literally one time, but she’s had this huge effect on my life ever since. And now? She’s changed the entire course of my life.”
I tilted my head side to side. “I mean, did she, though? You and I were going to be together, right? She didn’t change that. Which means you and I would have lived together—alone, and in a smaller house, maybe, but still together. And whether it was in six weeks or six months, you and I would have had a child together. We still will, if that’s what you want with me. But this whole situation with Isabela…it really just accelerated the timeline of how things worked out for us. Now it’s sort of a trial by fire. We’re together now, sink or swim. That little girl up there is going to need both of us, full time, all the time.” I touched his lips with mine, a not-really-kiss, a brush of my mouth on his. “So, really, if you think about it…how much has this altered the course of your life? I would suggest not that much.” I chuckled. “Now, if it had happened a year ago, that might be a different conversation.”
He laughed. “Is this what being with you is going to be like? You being right all the damn time?”
I nuzzled his throat. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“I guess I’m okay with that.” He touched my chin. “And just so we’re clear and on the same page…yes, Laurel. I do want that with you. A child. Marriage. The whole white picket fence, happily ever after thing. I never thought I did, but then I met you, and suddenly I do.”
I wiggled as his hands wrapped around my backside, pulling me closer, tighter against his hard body. “There’s no white picket fence, here, buddy. Wrong house if that’s what you wanted.”
He huffed in amused annoyance. “Smart-ass. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Know somethin’ weird?” he asked. “I don’t even know where the master bedroom is in this place. My head is still spinning and I don’t remember if it’s up or down.”
I pointed over his shoulder, down the stairs. “That way. Past the kitchen.”
He turned, carried me down. “This way?”
“Yup.”
To the kitchen. Set me on the island and ran his hands up my jeans-clad thighs. “Not sure how much farther I can go without some sugar.”
“Sugar?” I asked, snickering. Reached for the fly of his shorts and undid it, slipped my hands inside, collecting his erection and stroking it. “Is this what you mean?”
He shook his head. “No, I meant this.” A slow, deep kiss, his hands sliding up my spine to undo my bra before his fingers delved into my hair. “Fuck, Laurel. Need you so damn bad.” A growl. “How can I need more, the more of you I get?”
“Take me to bed, Titus. We can’t do this here. As much as I want to christen this kitchen island right now, we probably should start getting used to doing this stuff behind closed doors.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He glanced over his shoulder at the hallway that led to the laundry room, mudroom, and the master wing. “Through there?”
I rolled my eyes. “Not that many places it could be, honey. So yes. Through there.”
“Hey, I’ve lived in a converted semi the last several years. The whole thing is smaller than the fuckin’ garage—shit, one bay of the fuckin’ garage. Sue me if I’m not used to a real house yet.”
I hooked one arm around his neck to hold on and slid the other between us as he lifted me once more and carried me toward the bedroom. “I’m teasing. I’m just impatient to have you inside me.”
“Trust me, I’m just as impatient to be inside you.”
We finally reached the door of the master suite and he closed it with a foot while I locked it behind us.
He spun in place, pressing my back to the door. “Now the only problem is that we’re both wearing too many clothes.”
“You handle the clothing situation, I’ll handle this.” I caressed his length as he set me to my feet.
He laughed a groan. “I like the way you think, my love.”