“Those are our birthstones,” Ronan said just as it came to me. “Yours, mine, and Augie’s.”
“That’s true,” I said slowly. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve been around you long enough to know about the magical powers of gemstones and birthstones and crystals...”
“Magical powers.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “But isn’t that funny? It’s a truly beautiful design. And so romantic. The email said he’s going to surprise the love of his life with it, the lucky girl. It’s going to be hard for me to part with it.”
Ronan was silent, and the weird feeling didn’t leave me but grew into something like suspicion…
“Ronan…?”
“Marry me.”
I froze. My heart, the only part of me that was moving, beat hard in my chest. “What did you say?”
I raised my head to find his brows furrowed, doubt painting his features.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m doing this all wrong. I have no plan. No ring. Just…blurting it out like a jackass. But this talk about other people’s wedding rings and Paris… I want to give it all to you right this fucking second.”
My breath caught. When I thought I couldn’t love Ronan more, my heart expanded and made room, letting it all in.
“There’s never going to be anyone else, Shiloh. From the moment I laid eyes on you, a part of me knew you were it for me.” He took my left hand and kissed my ring finger. “I love you. I love our boy. I love this life that we’re making. That you’ve given me. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I whispered, then louder, “yes, Ronan. I want nothing more than to marry you.”
He shook his head, disbelieving, like a man waking up from a dream. I took his face in my hands, wanting to obliterate any doubt once and for all.
“You opened my heart and then filled it with everything I could possibly want. Filled it with everything I didn’t know I wanted and now can’t imagine living without. I love you, Ronan, and I’ll love you forever.”
His gray eyes turned smoky and he kissed me softly, then deeper. We sank into the kiss that was rich with love but burning hotter with every passing second. My body came wide awake, wanting to celebrate all that we’d endured and all that we’d face together, from that moment through all the years left to us.
Ronan rolled me onto my back, his mouth making a slow migration down my naked body.
“We’re starting the count over.”
“What?” I laughed. “Why?”
“Your boyfriend gave you four orgasms,” Ronan rumbled against my navel. “Your fiancé hasn’t given you any.”
The word sent a pleasurable shiver down my spine, a word full of the future. I lay back, surrendering to him.
“Can’t argue with that.”
The rain lashed the window and through the baby monitor, August fussed. We both froze, eyes on the door that led to his room, attached to ours, waiting to know if it was a one-time fuss or something more.
August whimpered again, sounding scared. Ronan shot off the bed, instantly vigilant.
“I’ll get him,” he said, drawing on his flannel sleep pants.
I put on his T-shirt and my underwear and listened to Ronan talk to his son through the monitor.
“Hey, buddy. The storm waking you up?”
“Yeah,” August said tearfully.
“Don’t be scared. I got you. I got you…”
I got you.
Watching the two of them grow close over the last few months had been one of the greatest joys of my life. August accepted Ronan faster than any of us expected, asking for him when he was away at work or when he was trying to give August space.
August didn’t want space. He wanted his daddy.
Ronan’s apartment at Cliffside had been rented out by the management company he’d hired, so when he wasn’t spending his nights here, he crashed with Miller and Violet in the house they rented while Violet finished school. But after only a few weeks, it was clear August wasn’t going to put up with that. Ronan moved permanently into my little room in Bibi’s house and had begun plans for the addition that same week.
I worried that we might be too much for Bibi, that instead of staying with her for her sake, she’d rather have peace and quiet. But from the moment she suspected I was pregnant, she’d fallen in love with August. And Ronan…
She might’ve loved him before I did. Or before I could name what I felt for him.
Ronan reappeared, carrying our son. August wore a white onesie with cartoon trucks all over it and lay against Ronan’s bare chest, his head tucked under his daddy’s chin. His large dark eyes were open but sleepy.
“Hey, baby boy,” I said as Ronan lay down with him between us. I kissed his soft baby cheek. “Can’t sleep?”
He shook his head, his little fingers reaching for my braids. I scooted closer to him, and he curled tight into Ronan with a handful of hair, bringing both of us into his cocoon. He was asleep in moments.
Ronan kissed his son’s head and looked to me, Augie’s eyes soft under my rainbow lights.
“I love you,” I mouthed.
“Love you,” he mouthed back, his own eyes looking heavy. I grinned as he began to drift—he who had been ready for another round mere minutes ago.
I studied Ronan’s beautiful face as he slept, his arms a protective circle around August and me. The demons in him had been laid to rest, and he was determined to keep them buried. He strove to be the best father for August—the kind of father he never had. And I knew he’d never stop working for us, to make his entire life a fulfillment of his promise to his mother.
The owl on his shoulder watched me. My own eyes were growing heavy, but through my sleepy haze, it looked like she was smiling.
II
Six months later…
“There,” Mama said, adjusting the delicate sprigs of baby’s breath in my hair. “Beautiful. Just…beautiful.”
I turned to look in the mirror in the bride’s dressing room at the Highland House, tucked deep in the redwoods. My reflection looked back—a daughter, a great-granddaughter, a niece, a friend, a business owner, a mother, and soon, a wife. And in that moment, I realized that all of those things weren’t me; they were reflections of the love I had in my life. That’s who we all are—reflections in the eyes of those who love us.
I looked to my mother. With Bertie and Rudy’s help, she’d moved to Santa Cruz before August was born. She found an apartment and got a job as an assistant manager in a bank. Aside from helping me prepare for August’s arrival, she used her marketing skills—those she had set aside for so long—to help me promote the store. And once she was settled, she went to a therapist twice a week. I joined her for half of those visits and together, we healed.
It was a slow process, but I learned to stop thinking of myself as walking evidence of my father’s depravity and to start thinking of myself as an embodiment of my mother’s strength. I stopped looking for him in the faces of strangers because he didn’t mean anything to me. He wasn’t a reflection in that mirror.
I clasped my mother’s hand and looked to Bibi, sitting on a sofa with Bertie. To Letitia, chatting with Violet and Luisa by the window, where the sunshine streamed in. I had everything I needed.