“Who is Terry?”
“Terry Scott was one of Mom’s old boyfriends. The only decent guy she dated. After they broke up, he looked out for me. He was the only role model I had in my life. He died a couple months back. That was the funeral I was attending the day I ran into Saskia and Rowan.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. He was a good guy, and I had lost touch with him.” I owed him more than biannual phone calls. Terry was a bit of a loner, and he never reached out to me, so I excused my lack of effort by claiming it was two-fold, but the truth is, I should have come back to Chicago to check up on him. I didn’t even know he was sick. I might have been able to do something to help.
“You’re a busy man, and friendships take work. It’s one of the reasons why Esme and Pen are my only two friends. I didn’t have time to cultivate more.”
Because she sacrificed her friendships for Rowan.
I don’t have any such noble excuse.
Anyway, we are getting off track. “The point is, Saskia came along at a time when I had nobody and nothing. I was drowning, and she threw me a life jacket. I put up with her shit because it was better than being alone. She helped me to get a job at a local bar, furnished the small studio apartment I rented, and she lavished me with gifts.” My hand stalls on her back. “It wasn’t my finest moment, and I’m not proud of myself. I was little more than a glorified prostitute. Without the sex,” I add, reminding her I never fucked her sister.
“Don’t say that. You were grieving and lost, and she most likely took advantage of that.”
“I don’t know what she got out of it, but by the end, I could hardly tolerate her. That final night, after the things she said to you, I knew I was done. I broke things off with her, and the sense of relief was enormous.”
“Is that why you disappeared?”
“Not really.”
She arches a brow while fighting another yawn. Her natural curiosity battles exhaustion, but I know this isn’t the time for that conversation.
“It coincided with my real father showing up, but that’s a long story and one best kept for tomorrow.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “The most important thing you need to realize now is that I never had feelings for Saskia. I never felt even an ounce of what I feel for you.”
“What do you feel for me?” Her eyes probe mine, looking for deceit, no doubt, but she won’t find it.
“That night in Vegas meant the world to me too, Firefly. I felt those same things you felt. No other experience has ever come close to it.” I gulp over the messy lump, wondering if I should admit this, but I’ve come this far, so I might as well go whole hog. “For six years, I have wrestled with my feelings for you. I pushed you away that day to keep you safe, but you always lived up here.” I tap my temple. “And here.” I tap my heart. “It’s like you burrowed your way in and took up residence. I could never get you out. I have been tempted to look you up so many times, but I always reined myself in. I didn’t want to be a selfish prick, but now I can’t stop myself. It’s too late.”
Tears roll down her face again, but she’s smiling.
It’s a pivotal moment in our relationship.
Neither of us needs to vocalize it to feel the winds have changed. Fate has altered, and our axis has tilted. Whether it’s for the better or not is yet to be determined, but we both know there is no going back. There is a certain serenity in accepting it. In trusting fate to take over and guide us along the right path.
If Leo was privy to my thoughts right now, he would never let me live it down.
“This isn’t just about Rowan, Sierra.” I cup her face firmly. “This isn’t just a marriage of convenience.” I draw a brave breath, preparing to say words I have only ever spoken to my sister. “I—”
“Mommy!” A shrill cry slices through the air, cutting me off.
“Rowan!” Sierra jumps up as Rowan’s crying escalates.
I hop out of bed, rushing out of the room after her, trailing her into Rowan’s bedroom. He is sitting up in the bed, sheets tangled around his little body, and his cheeks are soaked with tears.
“What’s wrong?” Sierra asks, racing to him.
“I had a bad dream,” he sobs, flinging himself at her as she sits on the side of the bed, alongside him. “Can I sleep with you?”
I crouch down beside Sierra, touching her arm. “You can stay here, and I can go back to my room, if you want.”
Rowan lifts his little face, and the sight of his tearstained eyes guts me. I want to eradicate his heartache and remove every trace of worry from his life. “I want to sleep beside Ben too,” he mumbles into his mom’s neck.
“We can all sleep in my room,” I rush to assure him. “That bed is the biggest.”
He nods, and Sierra stands with him in her arms. I move back to the master bedroom and pull back the covers.
Rowan crawls into the bed without hesitation, and Sierra and I lie on either side of him. We pull the covers up, turning on our sides so we are facing one another, with our son in the middle. My heart is racing so fast it feels like it might burst from my chest.
Sierra has her arms around Rowan from behind, and she’s pressing kisses into his hair. I want to touch him, to comfort him, too, but I don’t want to startle him or upset him any more than he’s already upset.
“Sleep, Firecracker,” Sierra murmurs into his hair. “You’re safe now.”
He closes his eyes, and I don’t take mine off him. His features are so perfect yet so small and fragile looking at the same time. An outpouring of love swells my chest, and I will do everything in my power to keep him innocent and safe. I want him to grow up loved and cherished and ignorant of the world I live in for as long as possible. I want him to have dreams and goals and to feel like he can achieve anything he sets his heart to. I never want him to suffer disappointment or fear or regret, but I know that’s just wishful thinking. Experiencing those things is part of growing up, but I want to shield him from everything in a way I was denied.
I want him to be a kid. To be free of burden for as long as possible.
“Ben,” he whispers, and his eyes pop open.
“Yes, buddy?” I whisper even though there’s no need because Sierra is still awake too.
His big blue eyes are trusting and hopeful as they stare into mine. “Are you my daddy?”
I can scarcely speak over the messy ball of emotion stuck in my throat. “Yes, Rowan,” I croak. “I am your daddy.”
“Forever and ever?” he asks, and Sierra clasps a shaky hand over her mouth as tears roll down her face.
“Forever and ever, buddy.” I smile at him as my heart tries to beat a path out of my chest. “I promise I will never leave you or Mommy. And I know we have lots of things to catch up on, but we will have fun doing that.”
He sniffs, and I stiffen. “Daddy?” he whispers, and I can’t hold my emotions inside anymore. Tears well in my eyes, and I purposely avoid looking at Sierra because I will break down if I do. He wiggles closer, and the second his soft little hand presses on my chest, I wrap my arms around him without hesitation. He melts in my arms, no trace of fear or anxiety tensing his little body. “I love you,” he whispers against my chest.