“What am I going to tell my dad?”
“The same thing I’m going to tell your child. He wasn’t cut out for the job.” Dean turned to leave, then thought better of it and balled up his fist one last time and sent it flying with all his might into Trace’s abdomen. Gasping in pain, Trace doubled over. For a second he hung in midair, suspended by Dean’s fist still shoved deep in his stomach, before keeling over to the side with a loud thump and groan. “That’s for the baby, you fucking bastard.”
Without saying another word, Dean headed out of the house, closing the door and that chapter in his life. He had one more stop to make before he went back to Creigh’s. Then he didn’t plan on leaving her side ever again.
As usual it was easier said than done. By the time he had everything he needed, it was after ten and the house was pitch-black. Dean was thankful the house key was with his car keys when he stormed out, or he would have looked all kinds of stupid standing on the doorstop, ringing the bell with her baby-shower present in his hands.
After slipping inside, he made his way to the baby’s room. With his elbow he turned the light on and unloaded the bulk of the gift next to the crib before sneaking out of the house again to get the remaining pieces. It took only one more trip before everything was in the room and the house was safely locked up once more.
Not wanting to disturb the kids or Creigh, Dean shut the baby’s room door behind him and began to put together the bassinet that had been in his family for two generations. It had been at his sister’s house, since she was the one who had the last child, but now that their child was due, it rightfully came back to Dean.
The original plan was to give it to Creigh at the end of the shower, but since he’d split before that happened, it had stayed covered up in the back of his car.
The sound of the door opening startled him. Standing, he turned and spotted Creigh in the doorway. She was dressed for bed, but the dark bags under her big brown eyes made him think she’d been doing more tossing and turning than sleeping. Without saying a word, she slipped into the room and shut the door gently behind her. They stared at each other for a moment, the silence a dull roar.
“What are you doing here?”
Dean stepped to the side so she could get a clear look at what he’d been working on. The bassinet had been a labor of love. It was only a gesture, but one he was thrilled he could provide. She deserved everything he had to give and more.
Her eyes widened, and her voice filled with wonder. “Is that the…”
“Yes,” he said with pride. “I restained it to match the crib and bought a new mattress for it. A-mei helped me pick out the bedding.”
“It’s beautiful.” Creigh walked over to the bassinet and ran her fingers across the cherrywood finish. “I’m in shock here. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“Yes, I do.” Creigh’s voice was firm, but he could still hear the underlying pain. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you’d let me use this.”
“Of course you could use it. It’s the De Luca family tradition.”
Her smile, along with her fingers, slid away. Creigh took a step back from the bassinet. “I’m not a De Luca anymore. And neither is this baby.”
“The first is a mere formality, and the second is straight up not true. She’s mine, Creigh. Nothing you said or did in the past can change the way I feel about her.” Dean stared at her, trying with all his might to put his feelings into the words he was saying to her. “Or you.”
“You say that now, but just a few hours ago, you couldn’t leave fast enough.”
“But I’m here now.” A knot formed in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her not accepting his forgiveness. “I was always coming back, cara. I’d always come back for you.”
“For how long?” She scoffed. Her doubt was as evident as the sadness on her face.
“Forever.”
Creigh shook her head in disbelief. “What happens if, God forbid, Trace decides he does want something to do with the baby. Are you going to be able to handle it, handle him?”
Dean looked down at his knuckles, which were a bit raw and red, and wiggled his fingers. “I think I can handle Trace just fine.”
His gesture wasn’t missed.
“Dean.” Creigh went to his side and picked up his hand. She ran her fingers gently across his bruised flesh. “You didn’t.”
“I did, and I’m not even going to lie. It felt damn good.”
“I can imagine. Lord knows I wanted to a time or two.” She brought his damaged hand up to her mouth and dropped a soft kiss across his knuckles before releasing him and trying to move away. But before she could slip away, Dean snagged her wrist. There was no way she was going to do something so kind and caring for him and still pretend it was over for them.
“Well, now you don’t have to.”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles.”
Dean placed his palm on her belly, and his child responded by giving a small kick. The movement made him smile, and it just pressed home to him this was bigger than him and her alone. It was about all of them. “Who said I did it for you?”
Creigh closed her eyes, a soft look passing over her face, before she swallowed hard. “I appreciate it. But you can’t keep me on this merry-go-round. We both need to move on and stop hurting each other.”
Dean reached up to tilt her head toward him, watching as she opened her eyes. “I was a bastard. I admit it. But no matter what, no matter how mad I get, I would never hurt you or our children. And I’ll never stop loving you. I don’t know how and I don’t want to. I love you, Creigh, and I want you marry me.”
Dean dropped to one knee in front of her and slipped his hand in his jacket pocket. “Just in case you were wondering, this time is the real proposal.” He pulled out the small black jewelry box. “I have the ring, the ache in my knee, and the pounding heart to prove it.”
“Oh my God.” Creigh slapped her hand over her mouth and stared at the small box in his hand.
Dean opened the box so she could see the white gold three-stone diamond engagement ring. “I thought I’d do something different this time. One diamond for each of our children.”
Creigh bit her bottom lip and gingerly reached out to the ring. She paused midway, then pulled her hand back and shook her head. “Oh God, I love you too. But is it enough?”
She’d said she loved him. Hell yes, it was enough. “We’ll make it more than enough. Marriage is hard, and we gave in instead of fighting for us as we should have. But we’ve both learned lessons from that. We don’t walk away from each other when we’re upset. We talk even when we don’t want to.”
“And most importantly,” she interjected, “we don’t have sex with our significant other’s enemy.”
“Mortal enemy,” he corrected just so she could understand the gist of it. “Mortal enemy, cara.”
“Sorry, we don’t do that with them.”
“See, lesson learned.”
“Is this the part where I say yes?”
“It would be nice if you did. My knee is killing me.”
“Might want to get to the asking, then,” she encouraged with a stifled laugh.
“Creigh, would you please agree to walk hand in hand by my side through whatever remaining days we have left in the this wacky world? Will you promise to forsake all others before me, no matter how mad you get at me? Will you promise to love and honor me and make me breakfast at least once every other month? Will you—”
Creigh covered his lips with her fingers. “If I make that promise, will you shut up?”
“If you accept my ring, I might.”
“I might isn’t a yes.”
“But it’s a start.” Like tonight, he added to himself. “A fresh new start for a new happily ever after.”
“Fuck that. I’m a realist, and I think we should get some bonus points for everything we’ve already been through.”
He tilted his he
ad to the side and studied her. “So what are you looking for?”
“Promise me happily even after, and you’ve got yourself a wife.”
Dean pulled the ring from the box and took her hand in his. “Cara, mother of my three children, friend of my youth, possessor of my heart, will you marry me and live happily even after with me?”
“I will.”
Dean slid the ring on her finger and rose to his feet. He pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth on hers. He kissed her tenderly, gently, a kiss born more of gratitude and respect than lust and desire. When he was done, he pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “So you will, then?”
“Yes.”
“No worries? No doubts?”
Creigh shook her head and smiled. “None.”
“And do you trust me?”
“With my life and heart,” she answered honestly and without hesitation.
“Good.” Hearing the words confirmed was more than he ever wanted. “What are you doing next Friday?”
Creigh thought for a moment. “Nothing I can think of.”
“Great.” Dean opened the bedroom door and gestured for her to precede him out of the room. “Pencil me in, then.”
“Okay, why?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Because,” he said, coming up behind her to give her a quick squeeze before releasing her and moving past her to their bedroom. He opened the door and slipped in, then popped his head back out and answered her. “That’s when we’re getting married.”
“Married!”
Chapter Eleven
“Tell me something. Tell me anything to get my mind off what they’re doing.”
“I don’t think it will be much longer, cara.” Dean’s hand tightened around hers, but Creigh could barely feel it through the drugs coursing through her system. She was numb from the chest down and scared out of her wits. She should have expected her unconventional pregnancy would end with an unconventional birth. Although cesareans were common in this day and age, it was still considered major surgery and frightening as hell.
Going under the knife wasn’t part of her birth plan, but when her doctor noticed the umbilical cord had slipped, he ordered a surgery readied. He’d told her cord prolapse was uncommon but could be deadly, and that was all she needed to hear. Creigh gladly sat through the sharp pinch of the epidural and the uncomfortable pressure of the catheter being inserted to have her baby born healthy and alive.
“What’s taking so long?” She couldn’t see past the green privacy screen they’d erected, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. The less of her insides she saw, the better, but at the same time she wanted to be in the know. This was her body and her baby, after all, but instead of interrupting the doctor, who was probably rearrange her innards, she turned to Dean. “Do you think everything is okay?”
“Of course.” Dean leaned closer. He, like everyone one else in the room, was dressed in scrubs from head to toe. His hazel eyes were all she could see of him, but they gave her strength nevertheless. “Everything’s going to be okay. Just wait; you’ll see.”
Creigh wet her tingling lips. “Promise?”
“I do.” Dean squeezed her hand with reassurance. “Do you feel anything?”
“Anxious.”
The lines around his eyes crinkled. “Besides that?”
“Pressure, tugging. But that’s it.”
“That’s good.” Dean glanced toward the covered end of her body briefly before his gaze returned to her face.
“Distract me,” she said frantically. “Tell me something. Anything.”
“Have I told you lately how lovely you looked at the wedding?” As usual Dean came through. Just thinking of their wedding day brought a smile to her lips even in this tense moment. For a courthouse wedding, it really had been beautiful and very timely, seeing as how she went into labor three days later. “I especially loved the reaction of the desk clerk. I thought she was going to have a coronary when she caught sight of your belly poking up from the white dress.”
“It was ivory, not white. Perfectly acceptable for second marriages,” Creigh corrected. “And hey, beggars can’t be choosers. I had less than a week to find a suitable dress that I didn’t look like a beluga whale in. It was either an off-white sundress or a multicolored tent.”
“Either way you would have been beautiful.”
“Doubtful. I’ll never forgive you for making me take wedding pictures this big.”
“We’ll take them again when our newest flower girl is present.”
“Yeah, well…” Creigh gasped in midsentence as the pressure increased tenfold.
Dean leaned in closer. “Baby, you okay?”
“I…” She felt as if a heavy weight was being lifted from her body, and then she heard it. The sweetest sound to ever grace her ears.
The doctor saying, “It’s a girl” was barely audible over the shrill cries of her daughter. From over the drapes, Creigh could see the baby, whose arms were flailing about like mad.
“Oh, Dean,” she whispered. “She’s perfect.”
“Yes, she is. Look at her. Look at her.” Dean released her hand, placed his own hand under her head, and lifted her up a bit so she could see the baby. Not that it helped much. She could barely make out the baby’s features through the tears in her eyes, but from what she could see, the child was beautiful.
The baby was quickly taken to the corner of the room to a warmer, but that didn’t seem to please her very much. She cried and cried, kicking up a fuss. Laughing, Dean lowered Creigh’s head back down to the table. “Do you see that? She has your temper.”
“Hardly. I’m far meaner than that.” Creigh sniffed, looking from the baby back to Dean. He didn’t notice, though; he only had eyes for one woman, and they too were brimmed with tears. “Dean,” Creigh called softly. “Are you—”
“Perfect.” He looked down at her, and all the love he felt for their child shone like sparkling diamonds in his eyes. “Just like our daughter.”
She knew in that moment that any doubts she could have had about him harboring grudges were put to rest. This baby was his, part of his heart, part of him. And they were a family. At last.
———
It was amazing what a difference two weeks made. One second they were having a baby shower; two days later, they were getting married; and a week after that, they had a baby. Milestones every last one of them, all happening back to back to back. And now, standing in the office of his former employer, Dean was about to pass another one.
His last day. Not that he’d been working. He went out on FMLA a few days after they married, but he didn’t see the point of milking the system since he had no intention of coming back. The only problem he had with quitting was the actual leaving. He’d been in Roland’s office now for the last hour, just bullshitting. Even though he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw Roland, it still was hard to leave. He’d finally worked up the energy to do just that when the office door opened and Trace strolled in.
The second the other man saw Dean, his smile fell away, and his gaze skirted nervously between the two men as if he were afraid Dean had come to spill the beans. “Hey, Pops, what’s going on?”
“Just congratulating Dean here on the latest addition to their family. A pretty little bit of a thing.” Roland slapped Dean on the back good-naturedly. “Thankfully she gets her looks from her momma and not her father.”
The irony of Roland’s comment amused Dean to no end. “I couldn’t agree more,” he replied, tongue in cheek.
“Sharon and I will have to come over in a day or two to see her in person. You know how she loves babies. She already had a tiny little quilt made up for…” Roland furrowed his brow. “What did you say her name was again, Dean?”
“Halla.” Dean met Trace’s gaze. “It means unexpected gift.”
“That is pretty. Very pretty indeed.” Roland said. “Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay?”
Dean looked back at the man who’d been like a second father to him and smiled fondly at him. “Positive, but don’t think you’re going to be rid of me so easily, old man. You’ll still see me around.”
“I better.” Roland stuck his hand out, and Dean took it happily. “You ought to run out of here, though, before someone comes in and tries to put you back to work.”
Dean laughed. “True. I need to make my escape while I can.” Dean gave Roland a fond pat on his arm. “Thanks again.”
Dean coolly nodded his head at Trace as he bypassed the man on his way out of the office. He was halfway down the hallway when he heard his name being called. Turning back around, he spotted Trace walking toward him. Curious to what the other man wanted, Dean crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
“So…” Trace looked around nervously before continuing. “Halla, huh?”
“You should know; her name was on the documents we sent your lawyer.” Even though he didn’t want anything from Trace, Creigh had helped him see they couldn’t give up Halla’s inheritance just to prove they didn’t need it. One day she might, and she’d be grateful her donor had at least done that much to help her out.
“I haven’t really had a chance to check them out just yet.”
“Take your time. Signing away all your rights shouldn’t be a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Dean didn’t want it ever to be said they’d forced Trace into this. If the day came where he signed away his rights and Dean could legally adopt Halla, that would be good, but his job as her father had started the moment she was born. He didn’t need any stupid document to tell him otherwise.
“I’d think you’d be happy I’m willing to do it. The quicker I sign, the less people will talk.”
“Trace,” he said with a sharp laugh. “I’m a white man married to a black woman. People are always going to talk.”
“I meant about the paternity.”
“Let them.” Dean shrugged. “She’s my daughter.”
“Only if I sign those papers.”
That’s where Trace was wrong. “You can sign or not; either way, she’s still mine. Fatherhood doesn’t start or end with semen. One day you’ll figure that out.”
Happily Even After Page 17
