The Final Storm

39. Reunion

Fixedly, I gazed down at the beautiful bundle of pink in the arms of the old lady.

"Ma-nee?"

Ah...

That voice. That word. I couldn't for the world find it within myself to keep the smile off my face. Why the heck was I smiling when, in the past, him using that word had annoyed me like nothing else?

"Ma-nee! Ma-nee!"

"Not quite," I told him as one of the women handed me a thick blanket. Wrapping the thing around me to make sure none of my wet clothes came into contact with Berty, I lifted the little bundle of joy out of Granny Aatifa's arms and into mine. With him in my arms, how could anything bother me? "Try again."

"Papa? Papa!"

My eyebrows twitched. I had wanted to know how anything could bother me? Well, that's how! I mean, really? I knew I wasn't exactly the traditional housewife, but papa?

Not that I would let this ruin my reunion. This was a perfect day, and nothing could ruin it! Judging by the way Granny Aatifa was snickering, she seemed to enjoy it a lot, too.

"Try again, sweety," I told my son. "You remember me, don't you? Ma..."

"Papa! Papa!"

My eyebrows twitched again. Son of a—wait, no, that would just be insulting myself!

"Papa! Papa!"

I took a deep breath. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Well," came a familiar, cool (and, if my ears didn't betray me, slightly amused) voice from behind me, "it is probably partially your fault."

My head whipped around to give Mr Rikkard Ambrose my patented wifely you'd-better-explain-or-else stare. "My fault?! How could this possibly be my fault?"

He cocked his head, as if this were obvious. "Well, you do keep showing up in front of him in male clothes half of the time. He's not even a year old and, despite being my son, is not exactly a genius." He gestured at my distinctly male clothes. "What do you think was going to happen?"

My jaw dropped.

He...

Was he right?

Bloody hell! What had I done? This whole time, I had wanted nothing more than to hear the M-word from Berty, and I had been shooting myself in the foot all along?

In retrospect, on the journey here, I should probably not have put another fake beard on, regardless of how it made our escape from India safer.

Pulling off the blasted thing with a twang, I hurled it into the ocean and turned back to my darling boy.

"There. Now, let's try again, shall we?"

"Ma..."

"Yes?"

"Mama!"

I beamed, gently squeezing the adorable ball of pinkness that was my son. "Much better." Leaning forward until my nose nearly touched his, I gazed down at him, unable to take my eyes off his smiling face. Suddenly, the world seemed complete again. "Much, much better."

From behind, two strong arms suddenly encircled both me and Berty. I didn't hesitate for a moment before relaxing into their embrace. If the world had seemed complete before, now it was just...more. Warmth swelled within me. Was it actually possible for a heart to contain this much happiness? It felt like it was about to burst any moment.

Not that I was going to let it. I had my son back in my arms and my husband at my side, and I wasn't planning on letting go of either any time soon.

Then a stiff sea breeze blew across the beach, and I shivered in my sodden clothes.