“Are you talking about kids and stuff?” He nods, and a nervous laugh escapes him—the kind that makes my heart melt a little more. “I just assumed that wasn’t something you’d want again, after Travis.”
“I never thought I’d want to be a father again. Hell, it’s been the one thing I’ve always been sure about and one of the main reasons I’ve kept myself closed off from relationships.” He takes a deep breath, then reaches down to thread his fingers through mine. “But things change when you find the woman you want to build your life around.”
“And if I said I never wanted to be a mom? Because I’ve never wanted kids. Not after seeing what motherhood looked like in my world.”
Christian knows about the hell Lorraine put me through. He knows every ugly, painful piece of it, and I know that if he could go back, he would. He’d shield that little girl with everything he has. He’d take every blow, every cruel word, and every moment that woman made me feel like I wasn’t worth loving.
But he can’t change the past, so instead, he loves me harder, holds me tighter, and makes damn sure I never go a single day questioning whether or not I deserve something good.
“Then you never have to be a mom,” he says simply, tightening hishold on my hand. “It can just be us. You and me, building a life together, and I’ll love the hell out of it, and you, every damn day.” I nod, but apparently, this man’s determined to turn me into an emotional puddle. “But if one day, you ever change your mind and decide you do want that… Then watching your belly swell with my baby would be the kind of miracle I’d count myself lucky to witness. I’d love that life, too, just as much.”
Well, shit. My heart will be the one getting pregnant at this rate.
“It’ll always be your choice,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “Always. I just wanna give you everything I’ve got while I’ve got it to give. Because as long as I have you, darlin’, I’ve already got everything I need.”
“But would you really want to do it all again?”
“With you? Hell yeah. Besides, I didn’t really get to do it right the first time. So if it happened, I’d be all in. I’d love you. I’d love our child, and I’d be there every single day for all of it. The good, the messy, the late nights, the diapers, everything.”
“God, I know you would.” I reach behind me to cup his face, feeling the rough stubble against my palm.
“But,” he says, pressing his lips to my temple, “it’s nothing we need to decide now. We’ve got a holiday coming up and probably a shitstorm or two to get through first.” A soft laugh slips from me. “It’s something we can talk about later. I just needed you to know that nothing’s off the table with me. Not where you’re concerned.”
I smile up at him, my heart feeling full to the brim. “God, you’re cute. Savannah was right about you.”
“Savannah?”
“She told me that when you love, you do it with everything you’ve got. No half-assing it. You just go all in, and she was right. You do, and I just… I’m so lucky to have you, and I don’t want you to forget that.”
Tonight, The Velvet Stag is bursting with Callan’s friends and family. It’s loud, rowdy, and overflowing with the kind of love that fills every corner. The doors are closed to outsiders. It’s just us and the old regulars, the ones who’ve pulled up a barstool so many times they’re practically family now. There’s no need for menus or tabs. Everyone knows what they want, and anyone who wants a drink just ducks behind the bar to pour it themselves.
“Seriously, how much longer do I have to stay?” Violet mutters in my ear as I slide another shot of vodka her way.
“You’ve been here thirty-five minutes,” I say, laughing as she gives my ponytail a light tug. “Your tolerance for human interaction is truly inspiring.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m third-wheeling you and Christian, which, by the way, you two don’t even try to be subtle.”
“What?” I nearly choke on my drink.
She raises an unimpressed brow. “You’re eye-fucking him so hard I’m shocked the bar’s still standing.”
“Here we go, Nightengales,” Callan says as he strolls over with two glasses of wine balanced effortlessly in one hand and that Crawford grin plastered across his face.
“Thanks, Cal,” I say, taking one of the glasses.
“You’re welcome.” He drops into the seat beside us, taking a long pull of his beer before turning to Violet with a grin.
“What?” she snaps, glaring at him like he’s the walking embodiment of a headache.
“Nothing,” he says innocently, though the twitch on his lips says otherwise. “Just trying to memorize your face before you crawl back into whatever cave you hibernate in, Lettie.” I choke on my wine, snorting into the glass, and I’m met with a death glare that could freeze Satan’s balls off. “Seriously, though, it’s good to see you. I was starting to think you’d died or joined a cult or something.”
“It’s cute how much you care,” she says flatly. “But for the record, I’m only here for Piper.”
Callan clutches his chest, all mock hurt. “You wound me. And here I was thinking you came to wish me a happy birthday.”
“There you go, assuming I give a shit again… if you must know, I’m here for the free booze and to stop Piper from dry-humping your brother in front of half the town.”
Callan chuckles, eyes narrowing as he leans in just slightly. “Yeah? So who’s keeping you on a leash tonight?”
