King and Yara

Chapter 24 (King): Your Queen

Copyright © 2024 by GroveltoHEA

After the gallery opening, in the weeks and months that followed, I made it a point to find more things that Yara liked to do. Some cost less than ten dollars, like buying a bag of pellets to feed the ducks at a nearby park. I couldn't tell if Yara, Carter or Louise was more excited about it, but there was a great deal of laughter, pointing and picture taking while the ducks fed. Others cost a bit more, but I found that it didn't matter to Yara as long as there was an experience to be had and a memory to be made.

And a family to build.

It surprised me that she didn't argue about the more expensive outings, like the artist's gallery show or a hockey playoff game. All she'd said when I brought up the idea was, "That's fine. Louise will especially love that, and it'll be a great memory for all of us."

It was always about the memories with her. Maybe because she had such shit ones growing up, but she was determined that our children would have beautiful memories of family and fun. Maybe because there is a certain safety in good memories, so for Yara it was combining the best of both worlds.

On one particular night when I got home from the office before my family made it back from their errands, I watched her and the children come into the house weighted down with some shopping bags, which they immediately upended on the dining room table. Yara always referred to this as the loot gloat -- the time you reviewed the things you bought in the comfort of your home. She did this for every shopping trip no matter how basic it was. Back to school shopping had been unbearably exciting for the three of them as they exclaimed over pencils, fun erasers to put on the pencils, fresh boxes of crayons, notebooks and even the glue sticks. 

"Doesn't the smell of crayons just take you back?" she'd asked me, sniffing exaggeratedly at an open box of 24. "They're all still perfect and the colors look so nice together. Not a single one broken or worn down yet. All that creative, picture-making potential in one small box!"

I'd laughed happily at her enthusiasm and given her a quick kiss on her lips.

Tonight, part of the loot included three gigantic scrap books. Light purple for Louise, dark blue for Carter and pale green for Yara. There were also stickers, special papers, scissors that cut shapes around the edges and about a million more craft supplies.

"What's all this?" I asked, pressing a kiss to Louise's cheek and then Carter's head. Still moving slowly with Yara, I kissed her forehead this time.

She waved her hand over their bounty. "Memories! We've been making all these memories together and taking all these pictures and we just realized today that we needed to make memory books so we could remember everything. So two nights a week, we're going to work on our books."

"Where's mine?" I asked. 

"Daddy," Louise said, "you and mommy get to share one."

Mommy. Daddy. Even all these months after the adoption, I almost had to excuse myself from the room when I heard mommy and daddy in the same sentence. For so long, it had just been daddy, and the way that hit me when Louise or Carter would say our names together without thinking about it made me feel that I hadn't completely messed up their precious little lives. I always hoped that they'd never remember a time without mommy in their lives.

I also noticed that almost every time Yara heard Carter or Louise say mommy, her fingertips would unconsciously touch the sapphire and amethyst necklace she wore constantly since the day she'd adopted the children.

I'd fucked up with Yara, but even while my head had been up my ass, she'd become their anchor, protecting them like a mama bear, keeping their lives unaffected by my thoughtless mistakes. She'd become my anchor, too, and truth be told, I still wondered if she realized that she was our sun, and the three of us orbited around her. The sun gave life, and she'd brought new life to all of us, taking a family of three to a family of four with Yara at our center. 

So twice a week, the four of us sat around the dining room table and worked on our scrapbooks that we filled with memories. It gave us a chance to talk about the specific event or activity again in more detail as we glued pictures into the books, added stickers and made some written notes about the memory. The memory books became their own memories and as much as they were filled with pictures, they were also flooded with the echoes of our laughter.

We were building our family and knitting it together. We were forming our own solar system with Yara at the center.

 My wife and I were still having nightly dates on the couch, and I was showing Yara every day that her heart would be safe with me again. Every action I took, every word I spoke was with Yara in mind.

Would this hurt her or the children in any way?

Is this something she'd want?

Could this take an unexpected bad turn?

Would Yara approve of this?

It was a new way of doing business, but I could have avoided the shit with Carmen and Stephen if I hadn't been thinking of myself and if I hadn't been running from my feelings like a coward. So now, my business deals had Yara at their center. If I thought it could be negative for her in any way, I walked away from the deal without any explanation other than it wasn't a good fit.

When I told Yara about my new strategy for making business deals, she'd laughed until she realized I'd been serious.

"King, you can't make deals based on What Would Yara Do? That's not how you run a business!"

"It's how I do business now," I shrugged.

And strangely enough, the company was stronger than it had ever been. The papers had started referring to me as the Benevolent King because, given how Yara had grown up, she and I decided to greatly expand the company's charitable outreach, our efforts focusing heavily on women and children. We'd also decided to donate heavily from our own money.

"No individual family needs that much money, King," Yara had said.

She'd been right, as always. Had she been a different kind of woman, the power she wielded over me would have been terrifying. But this was Yara, and I trusted her. With my children. With my wealth.

With my heart.

I made sure to tell her that every night when we walked up to our rooms following our couch date. There was nothing more I wanted than to steer her to our bedroom, but I was waiting for her to make that move. Instead, I'd press a quick kiss to her lips or her cheek and then I'd tell her I loved her.

Yara didn't say it back to me, but I knew she would if I ever made her feel her heart would be safe with me again. 

It was gradual process, this winning her heart back. One night, I kissed her at her bedroom door, and she kissed me back.

A few nights later, she returned my kiss with her hand on my chest. My bare chest, I should point out.

A few weeks later, both of her hands slid up to my neck and then into my hair as she kissed me back.

Things kept getting more intense at her bedroom door, and then one night, she asked me to wait in the hall while she slipped into her bedroom for a minute, shutting the door before I could respond or ask any questions. When she opened it, Yara stood in front of me wearing the damn crown I'd bought for her when I first began trying to make amends for my fuck ups.

It should be noted that the crown was the only thing she was wearing in addition to her sweet smile.

"I'm ready to be your queen, King," she said.

Copyright © 2024 by GroveltoHEA