Lucas
As I wake to the sight of her big, whiskey-brown eyes, soft and pure, crinkling at the corners with a real smile, my heart swells. Only 24 hours since bringing them home, seeing that smile is like entering calm seas after a rough summer storm. God, how I wish she was within reach. My fingers twitch, desperate to touch her, as my lips ache with the desire to kiss her. But as I look down at the two little girls sleeping between us, love burns so fiercely in my chest it almost hurts. Waking up here, in the house where I grew up and which she's turned into a home, with my entire world lying beside me, I realize I wouldn't trade this moment for anything.
"Morning," she whispers.
"Morning, sweetness."
"Sweetness? That's a new one," she teases, her eyes twinkling.
"What, you don't like it?"
"Actually... I think I love it." Her smile grows impossibly wider, and like always, the warmth of it seems to chase away the darkness that's always lingered inside me.
This—being here with her, with the girls—is pure bliss. As we settle into a comfortable silence, I can't tear my eyes away from her. Even with her dark hair piled messily on top of her head and pillow creases still marking her face, she's the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Hers is the kind of beauty that doesn't need to try—it just is.
"You know," she whispers, glancing down at the girls sleeping between us, "eventually, we'll have to get them back in their beds."
"I don't know. I kind of like having them so close." God, do I. For the first time in days, I slept like a damn baby, just knowing all four of them were safely tucked away right next to me. All four of them—because the moment I saw the image of the baby, I knew. Just like my three girls, that little boy or girl is counting on me to love and protect them. "The four of you are my entire world. As far as I'm concerned, this bed is exactly where you all belong."
"Four of us?" she asks, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Yeah, you, Allyssa, Mallory, and little Sailor."
The second she catches on, her face lights up with a smile so radiant, it's like nothing I've ever seen. It's like witnessing an eclipse or catching sight of a rare bird landing just outside your window. It's mesmerizing. Makes me wish I could feel that smile against my lips.
"I, um... figured until we get to meet him or her, we should give them a name."
"Okay... but Sailor?"
"Absolutely. Sailor. Named after me, of course. My namesake without the pretentiousness of making it all about me. Besides, the real responsibility of naming them after they're born is yours and yours alone. But naming them pre-birth? That responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders."
She laughs—a genuine, carefree sound that lights up her entire face, momentarily lifting the weight of all the stress she's been carrying.
"Oh, does it? I didn't realize that's how it works."
"That's absolutely how it works. I know it's a big job, but I'm owning it. Totally rocking it. So, Sailor, it is."
"I love it." Her smile falters, replaced by a look of vulnerability that tugs hard at my heart. "You really want this."
It's not a question but a statement—spoken like she's still trying to wrap her mind around it, and she's not sure if she should believe it. It hurts. Knowing she still doubts my commitment to them or the miracle growing inside her is devastating. But I deserve it. I stained what should've been a beautiful moment with my own hesitations. When she first told me about the baby, I didn't react the way I should have. If I'd pulled her into my arms right then and promised to be there for her no matter what, everything would be different. She would be happy. Excited. Eagerly looking forward to the birth of a new life instead of being bogged down by guilt and uncertainty.
It's time to set things right.
I quietly slip out of bed, avoiding her eyes. I don't want her to see how much her doubt hurts, so I use the time to compose myself. When I reach her side of the bed, I take her hand and help her to her feet, grabbing her robe from the chair in the corner. With one last glance at the girls, I close the door softly behind us. By my estimation, we've got probably another hour before they wake up.
"Here, sweetness. Put this on."
I hand her the robe, slipping it over her arms, before taking her hand again and leading her upstairs to what used to be my father's office. I'm hoping it's still close enough to hear the girls if they need us. Once I lock the door behind us, I guide her to the small loveseat, settling her carefully on my lap.
This is where I need her. Close.
"Embree." With my free hand, I part her robe, resting my palm over the small bump that cradles our little Sailor. I need both of them to feel this—the depth of my love and the promise I'm making. To her, to this baby, to the girls. My unbreakable vow to stand by them, to protect them with everything I have, with every ounce of love in my heart.
"I want this," I whisper. "More than anything in the world, I want you, the girls, and this baby. I want this life—this family you've created, the children I loved from the moment I met them because they are a part of you. And because they are yours, they are connected to me, too. Because you, Emilia Jane Barett, own every single piece of my heart. Of my soul. Of everything that I am and everything I'll someday be."
I pause, searching her eyes, watching as a single tear slips down her cheek. It nearly breaks me, but I press on. "What can I do, Emb? How can I prove to you I'm all in? That I want you and the girls. That I want this baby. How can I show you I'm excited to build a future with the four of you?"
Her voice cracks as she responds, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "How could you want this? After how the baby was conceived? How could this baby not be a reminder of my betrayal to you or of what I allowed Creed to do to me that day? I willingly left your side to go with him? This pregnancy... it's a reminder of one of the lowest moments of my life. How can we be sure that's something we can both get past?"
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I hold her tighter, determined to ease the pain she's carrying.
"Which is it, sweetheart? Are you worried I won't be able to get past it, or is it that you're not sure if you can?" The frustration I've been holding back slips through despite my best efforts to keep it in check. But maybe, just maybe, it's what she needs to hear to break free from this downward spiral of doubt she's trapped in.
"Both..." Her voice is barely more than a broken sob, the word slipping free as though it's too heavy for her to carry. She covers her mouth like she's trying to hide her pain from me, but her eyes... God, the anguish in her eyes cuts deep, sharper than her words ever could.
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Author's Note:
What do you think of the nickname Lucas came up with for the baby? Do you think it's time for Emilia to let go of her doubts? I'd love to hear what you think of this scene.
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