✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

61-Cruel Mothers

Jake's pov

I had woken alone and fucking scared like a child. Opening my eyes, the first thing I noted was the absence of comforting pressure from my daughter pressed beside me, the soothing presence of Anastasia. The bed was cold, and the room was emptier than it felt just before. I need them to come back here. I felt I would begin to weep blood if I didn't find them.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and pushed myself up in protest. Voices started to clear as I shuffled my way down the stairs, distinctly catching some laughter amidst the clinking of coffee cups. A gust of apprehension rushed through me as I hurried toward whatever was the source of that sound. Was everything okay? Had it all been some kind of dream that just faded away?

By the time I entered the kitchen, I saw for once a balance of relief and puzzlement. There sat David nonchalantly on the island in the kitchen, cradling my daughter with a tenderness that was almost out of character, while Anastasia was at the counter again making coffee.

David looked up as I came in and a broad grin spread across his face. "Well, look who finally decided to join us," he said teasingly, his voice light and playful. "I was starting to think that you would be sleeping through the whole day."

I barely registered his words as I hurriedly went over to them. "You weren't there when I woke up," I asked Anastasia, though my voice came out more panicked than accusatory.

David chuckled and picked her up a bit. "Right here, Jake. I was just having a little chat with the next princess."

I didn't hesitate, just leaned over and carefully plucked my daughter from David's arms. My heart was racing with feelings of relief and possessiveness. I looked up at David; he seemed so amused at the look on my face. "You didn't have to take her from me," I said in that gruff voice of mine, yet laced with gratitude.

Anastasia shrugged, "Apparently your daughter needs to be fed and you have been out cold on my bed." Now she was glaring at me?

But I see everything, I see her. The mother. She may be cruel but she was still a mother. Cruel mothers are still mothers. They make our wars, they make our revolution, and they teach us the truths untold. We love them to the bones, and that only reminded me of my mother when she caught a whiff of what was happening here. I should prepare to dif my own grave.

David still smiling. "When you didn't come back last night we were worried. Thought we'd check on you, but it turns out you were just having a very long nap. And now it is three in the afternoon."

Three in the afternoon. It hit me like a ton of bricks, it was the realization that I'd been sleeping the morning away into the afternoon. A feeling of embarrassment mixed with relief at the sight of my daughter, safe and sound, overwhelmed me. I looked at Anastasia, now pouring coffee into a mug, her expression soft but unreadable.

"I'm sorry," I said, my gaze drifting to Anastasia. She was standing there in this casual cropped tank top that showed a slice of midriff, coupled with loose, flowing blue wide-leg pants. My eyes went to the softness of her tummy, the slight roundness different from her usual washboard abs. There was something different about her today that made her perfect. She was soft, almost fluffy in a way that was both surprising and endearing. Her chest, too, seemed fuller beneath the tight fabric of her top, making her appear more voluptuous, more real.

Ana looked up and gave a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay, Jake. You needed the rest."

I nodded, still clasping my daughter tightly. She looked up at me with eyes so inquisitive, her tiny fingers stretching to reach and feel a world. A surge of protectiveness came over me then, this fierce urge to shield her from everything that happened and everything that could come. She was my world now, an embodiment of everything I wanted to protect and hold dear.