Chapter 11
11
ISLA
“ I hope we’re not all descending on you too soon.”
Smiling brightly, Lucy stands in the hallway with five other women surrounding her, two I recognize and three I don’t. “You know Jade and Sarah, obviously,” Lucy continues as she gestures to the women in question, both of whom I already met three days ago when I arrived at Blade and Arrow.
Jade gives me a friendly little wave. “Hey, Isla. How are you feeling?” With her other hand, she absently rubs the swell of her belly, the diamond of her engagement ring glinting as the sun streams through the window at the end of the hallway.
From our first meeting, I thought Jade was lovely—kind, friendly, and a bit serious in the beginning, but funny once she opened up. From what Matt told me, I know she’s been through some pretty awful stuff, and I’m glad she’s found happiness on the other side of it.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous.
Six months pregnant with a much-wanted baby, married to the love of her life, and living at the ranch with a wonderful group of people who’ve become like extended family, she has the life I wish I had. Not that I begrudge Jade the good fortune she absolutely deserves, but I can’t help the wistful fantasy of having the same.
Not for the first time since I got to Blade and Arrow, and probably not the last, I wonder what it would be like if this was my home. Living at this expansive ranch with every amenity I could possibly want—a gym nicer than the one I used to go to in Dallas, a gorgeous library stocked with thousands of books, an enormous restored barn with an outdoor kitchen, games, and even a small theater, plus miles of trails winding through the gorgeous tree-filled property—is better than I could have imagined.
And it’s safe . Not once since I got here have I worried about my safety. Not with all the security and the constant presence of at least one former Green Beret to protect me.
It’s not just the ranch that I like, but the people here, too. Like Matt told me before, it really does feel like a big family. All it takes is spending a few minutes with them to realize how much everyone cares about each other. And while I know I’m just a client, I haven’t felt that way since I arrived.
Everyone has just been so welcoming and helpful—Dante and Sarah showing up with home cooked food to stock my fridge and freezer, Niall and Jade bringing over a gift basket filled with candy and candles and aromatherapy supplies, and Xavier and Lucy showing up the first evening laden down with fresh treats from the local bakery and boxes of herbal tea.
I still have my daily yoga sessions with Erik, which I’ve grown to really look forward to. Rhiannon stops by each evening under the auspices of making sure I feel okay, but ends up staying to watch an episode of our favorite show on HGTV.
And Matt.
He’s the best part of being here by far.
Initially, I was worried I wouldn’t see him as much once I moved here. Living at the Blade and Arrow ranch, I don’t need the same sort of protection, so there’s no reason for him to be around as much as he was back in Dallas.
But he has been. Every morning he brings over breakfast, and at lunchtime, he takes a break from his work to walk around the property with me. And in the evenings, we have dinner and play Minecraft and take turns picking something to watch on TV. I know he doesn’t have to do any of it—I’m sure sharing meals and playing video games with me isn’t in his job description—but he hasn’t mentioned stopping and I’m not bringing it up.
Am I going to have to leave eventually? Yes. Matt and his teammates will figure this out and in time, my case will be resolved. Which is good; I don’t want to keep living in fear, and I want to know the truth about where my baby came from.
My baby. Whoever the father is, they’re not a part of it, not in my mind at least. At the end of this, it’ll be just me and the baby, making a life for ourselves back in Dallas. And I’ll make sure she—I feel like it’s a little girl, though I don’t know for sure—knows she’s loved unconditionally.
Although. If Matt wanted to be involved, I wouldn’t say no.
Deep down, in my heart of hearts, that’s what I really want. Matt. Not as my protector, but my boyfriend. My partner. Someone to show my baby how a man should be.
It won’t happen. I know that. But there’s a flicker of hope that won’t be extinguished. And every time I see Matt, a little voice in my head whispers, What if?
What if I could find love in all of this?
What if Matt is the man I’ve been waiting for?
“If you’re not feeling well, we can come back.” Jade’s expression fills with concern as she looks at me. Apology tinges her voice. “We should have called first. I’m sorry.”
Crap. Since I’ve been pregnant, my mind wanders even more than it used to.
“No, no, it’s okay,” I reply quickly. “Sorry. I get distracted so easily lately. But I’m feeling fine. Better than fine, really.”
“Oh, pregnancy brain?” Jade laughs. “Tell me about it! I’ll get into a room and forget why I went there. Or I’ll go to the grocery store and come back with bags of stuff I don’t even need.”
Sarah smiles as she holds out another stack of covered dishes. “I made some more of that taco casserole. Matt said you loved it when you had it the other night. And I went light on the seasoning, so it won’t upset your stomach.”
“Oh, thank you.” I give Sarah a one-armed hug as I take the dishes from her. “That’s so nice of you. But you didn’t have?—”
“Sarah loves to cook,” Lucy says, casting an affectionate look at her friend. “When I was going through—” Her gaze shadows for a second before brightening. “Sarah brought over tons of food. Dante, too. It was so nice not to have to worry about cooking. Plus, anything they make is much better than what Xavier and I can come up with.”
“We all love Sarah’s cooking,” one of the other women says. She has blonde hair and bright blue eyes and a warm smile. As she extends her hand out to me, she continues, “Hi. I’m Milena. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Milena is married to TJ,” Sarah explains. “And TJ used to be a Green Beret; he’s actually the reason why Dante decided to join, too.”
“We live in San Antonio,” Milena adds. “Just like Blythe and Hope.” She glances at the two other women. “We’re kind of all a big family here.”
A pretty woman with red hair steps forward and gives me a quick hug. “I’m Hope. It’s nice to meet you.”
“And I’m Blythe,” the third woman says. She’s holding a bag in each hand, so she lifts her chin as she smiles at me. “Sorry. Loaded down here. Or I’d give you a hug.”
Lucy glances around the small semicircle of women around her before returning her gaze to me. “So, we’ve been talking about you.” She stops. Her cheeks go pink. “I mean, not in a bad way. Just that you’re here, and you’re pregnant, and…”
“And Matt mentioned you’re just into the second trimester,” Jade adds. “And I bet you haven’t had much time to get anything. Maternity clothes, lotions, a pregnancy pillow… So we were kind of hoping we could help.”
“Me and Lucy don’t have babies yet, obviously,” Sarah says. “Although…”
Milena grabs Sarah’s arm. “Are you?”
“No,” Sarah replies quickly. “Not me. Dante and I want to wait a little longer before trying. But Lucy”—she raises her eyebrows—“might be a different story, soon.”
Lucy’s cheeks go even redder. “Maybe. Hopefully. We’re trying.”
Hope beams at Lucy. “Oh, that would be amazing!”
Belatedly, I realize I’ve left everyone standing out in the hallway instead of inviting them in. “Oh, sorry! Come in.” I step back and gesture for everyone to come inside. “Do you want anything to drink? Eat? I have soda, water, seltzer, tea?—”
Jade touches my arm. “Don’t worry about entertaining us , Isla. We’re here to help you, if it’s okay?”
My throat goes thick. For a second, I can’t speak past the lump in my throat. “Yes. It’s okay. Thank you.”
Once permission is given, the next few minutes are a flurry of activity. Half a dozen bags are arranged beside the couch, and an array of snacks and drinks are set out on the coffee table—all brought over by Sarah and Lucy and Jade. Then all six women cluster around me, finding seats on the couch, the armchairs, or the floor.
Lucy busies herself making a plate of snacks for me, which is unnecessary—I’m pregnant, not an invalid—but very sweet. As the others pile their own plates high with vegetables and chips and cookies, I ask, “So… how do you all know each other?”
“It’s an interesting story,” Jade replies. “So Blade and Arrow was founded by Cole—Matt told you about him, right?”
I nod. “He did.”
“Okay.” Jade takes a bite of cookie before continuing, “So Cole worked in San Antonio for a year after leaving the Army. He worked for the San Antonio PD while he was here, and his partner was Quint, who still works there. But some stuff happened, and Cole decided to form Blade and Arrow out in New York. Create a company that can help people in ways the police can’t, you know?”
At my answering nod, she says, “Right. So they had the branch out in Sleepy Hollow for five years before Cole decided to open another one here. Cole already knew Quint and a bunch of first responders from the year he spent here, so he introduced them to the new Bravo team. And in the year Bravo team has been open for business, we’ve really gotten to know everyone. Quint, and his wife, Corrie. Milena and TJ, Blythe and Squirrel?—”
“ Squirrel ?” A second later, I blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“No, it’s fine.” Blythe laughs. “That’s what the guys at the fire station call him. But his real name is Sawyer. Don’t ask.”
“And my husband is Calder,” Hope interjects, chuckling as she adds, “No weird nickname, though.”
“It’s been really nice,” Lucy says. “Having everyone around. We have parties in the barn sometimes, or we’ll meet up in San Antonio or Seguin.”
“And we help each other out.” Blythe’s expression sobers. “I was homeless for a while, and if not for Sawyer and his friends, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”
“ Blythe .” Milena leans over and gives her a hug.
“I remember how scary it was,” Sarah says. Her eyes are filled with compassion. “I felt really alone when I came here for help. But everyone just made me feel at home. And we’re hoping we can make you feel at home, too.”
Oh.
Tears prick my eyes. “That’s… I would love that. Thank you.”
I can’t remember the last time I sang.
As a child, I loved it. I’d make up little songs and walk around the house singing. And in elementary school, music was my favorite class. I can still remember my teacher, Mrs. Adelman, encouraging me to join the chorus, telling me I had the most beautiful voice she’d heard since she started teaching.
I still remember the pride I felt when I was selected to sing the solo at the spring concert when I was in fourth grade. I remember how amazing it felt, singing my heart out and hearing the thunderous applause from the audience after. I still remember how Mrs. Adelman hugged me as she said, “You have a true talent, Isla. Voices like yours only come along once or twice in a lifetime.”
Then my parents decided I was too old for such frivolous things. Singing in church, my voice just one in a crowd? That was okay. But actually performing? Making a spectacle of myself, as they said? No way.
They pulled me out of chorus. Told the school that I couldn’t perform in the concerts anymore for religious reasons. Which was a lie, their church was restrictive but didn’t ban things like that. But in my parents’ minds, it was inappropriate. I should have been focusing on housekeeping and sewing and cooking, not things that made me the center of attention.
For a while, I still sang at home, until they started punishing me whenever they heard me. I was sent to my room without dinner, or one of my few belongings was taken away. And when they got really frustrated with me, my father would get out his belt.
So I stopped singing. And I forced myself to stop thinking about it. I didn’t even listen to music until I was halfway through college.
At thirty-three, more than two decades past my parents’ mandate, I’ve gotten accustomed to the silence instead of the songs that used to be in my head.
But as I sat on the couch sorting through all the gifts the women gave me—the special lotion for stretch marks and organic soaps and cozy socks and more tea than I could drink in a year—I found myself humming.
After all the fear and stress and uncertainty, I have things to be happy about.
Blade and Arrow. The team. A healthy baby. Matt.
So it’s not all awful. Just some of it.
Then I started thinking about little Dove. That’s what I’ve been calling the baby, after my favorite bird. If she—he—turns out to be a boy, I’ll have to come up with something different. But for now, Dove feels right. Once she’s born, how can I not sing to her?
And that’s how the humming shifted to singing.
Now I’m sipping my new honey ginger tea as I flip through one of the baby books Jade gave me, quietly singing Lullabye , by Billy Joel—one of my all-time favorite songs. I know it’s too early to feel the baby move, but I can just tell she likes hearing my voice.
I’m so wrapped up in my book, when the doorbell rings, I jump, sloshing the tea all over my hand as I let out a startled yelp.
“Isla?” Matt’s voice rumbles through the door. “Are you okay in there?”
Worry strains his voice, and I just know he’s already imagining the worst—that I’m hurt, sick, or there’s a complication with the pregnancy. He’s always so concerned about me, and maybe with someone else it would feel overwhelming, but with Matt? I like it. It’s not that I want him to worry about me, exactly, but it’s really nice to know he cares that much.
“I’m fine,” I call back. Wiping my damp hand on my shorts—thank goodness for denim that won’t show it—I hop up from the couch and head to the front door. As I wrestle with the three complicated locks, I add brightly, “Just trying to get the door unlocked. One second!”
Once I get the door unlocked, I yank it open with a smile on my face. “Sorry. These locks still take me forever.”
Matt’s gaze sweeps over me, carefully assessing. A beat later, assured that I’m clearly okay and not in terrible danger, his shoulders relax and his lips curve up. “Everyone says that. It took Sarah ages to get them figured out when she was staying here. I know it seems like overkill, given how much security we have, but we figured better safe than sorry, you know?”
“No, it makes sense. I’d rather have the extra locks than not.” Darting forward, I give him a quick hug, letting myself linger for only a second before pulling away. Although I’d much rather stay there, wrapped in his arms, breathing in his citrusy scent and feeling the firm breadth of his chest against me. I would much rather stay in his embrace, my head tucked under his chin, his breath feathering across my hair and his big hand gently rubbing my back.
But it would be weird if I just stood in the doorway clinging to Matt like a limpet, so I force myself to step back instead.
Something that looks almost like disappointment moves across Matt’s face, but it’s gone before I can examine it. Then his smile brightens as he looks at me. “You look happy.”
“Do I?” I grin at him. “I feel pretty happy.”
“You definitely do.” Pulling the door shut behind him, Matt takes my hand as he moves into the apartment. “You have a glow. I guess that’s the best way to describe it. And your eyes are all crinkly.”
“What?”
“You know, like laugh lines?”
Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, I ask, “Are you saying I have wrinkles?”
Matt’s ears turn fire-engine red. He grimaces. “Shi—shoot. No. That’s not… I didn’t mean that. You don’t have wrinkles. I mean, everyone has little lines when they smile or laugh. That’s all I meant. You’re not wrinkly. You’re beautiful.”
He stops. The red moves to his cheeks. “Not that you wouldn’t be beautiful with wrinkles, too. It wouldn’t matter. You’re just… I’m messing this up.”
I can’t help the flutter of warmth from hearing him call me beautiful.
“You’re not.” Squeezing his hand, I tug him towards the couch. “I know what you meant. Although—” I give him a teasing smile. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been complimented on my wrinkles before.”
Sighing, Matt shakes his head. “I can’t believe I said that, Isles. I’m really sorry. It was meant as a compliment.”
“I know it was.” As we sink onto the couch, his legs bump against mine. And rather than moving away to give him some space, I decide to stay put and see if he’ll move instead.
He doesn’t. And I’m glad.
“So.” He glances at the coffee table, now covered with all the gifts I just got. “Did you enjoy meeting everyone? I hope it wasn’t too much? Lucy was asking about it; I thought a few days of settling in might be good, but?—”
“It was great. Really. I already knew Jade and Lucy and Sarah were nice, but Blythe and Milena and Hope are great, too. And it was so sweet of them to bring all this over.”
“I’m glad.” Matt leans forward to inspect a little bottle of lotion, which I decide not to tell him is for reducing the stretch marks I’m sure I’ll eventually get, no matter how much walking and yoga I do. Talking about the pregnancy in general terms is one thing, but stretch marks? No thanks.
Turning back to me, he says, “If you need more stuff, supplies, anything like that, just let me know. I can arrange for a trip into Seguin; there’s a little baby store there. Or… I don’t know. What do they call stores that sell pregnancy and baby stuff?”
I giggle. “I’m not sure, to be honest. Baby store works.”
Matt smiles back at me, his eyes soft with friendship? Affection? Something more?
A frisson of something moves between us, and my heart makes a little jump.
Then he asks, “Did I hear you singing before? When I was at the door?”
This time I’m the one who blushes. “Yes. You heard me?”
“I did. You have an incredible voice, Isla. I had no idea.”
Pride wars with the shame my parents inflicted. “I haven’t sung in a really long time. Years.”
Surprise ripples across Matt’s face. “Years? Why?”
I hesitate for a second before answering. No one knows, not even Rory. It’s not that I don’t trust her with the truth, or that it’s some scandalous thing… I guess I’m just ashamed that I let something my parents do affect me for so long.
But this is Matt . I trust him. And I know he won’t judge me. So I take a steadying breath and say, “I used to love singing. Songwriting, too. I had a solo in elementary school and I was so excited about it. But my parents got angry, said it wasn’t appropriate to flaunt myself like that. So they made me stop.”
Matt frowns. “ Flaunt yourself? In elementary school? Are you kidding me?”
“Unfortunately not. I told you, they weren’t very nice.”
“And they made you stop singing? How?”
“They pulled me out of chorus, said I couldn’t take music anymore. And they punished me anytime they heard me singing at home. Eventually, I stopped trying. And in time, I just… let it go completely.”
The lines in his forehead deepen. “Isles. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
I barely resist smoothing his brow. “It’s okay. I mean… it happened. Being upset about it now isn’t going to change things.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. His thumb brushes across the top of my hand. “Still. It’s not right.”
With a little shrug, I reply, “Maybe not. But I won’t do that to little Dove. That’s why I was singing. So she can hear me.”
“Or Eagle, you mean?” Matt knows about my theory that the baby’s a girl, but he insists it’s a boy. And he thinks we should stick with the bird theme by naming the baby Eagle instead.
I grin at him. “Or Eagle.”
He stares at me for a moment, his gaze going pensive. “It’s funny the way things stick with us, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.” But I have a feeling he’s not just talking about me.
“You know about my parents,” he says after a long pause. “They didn’t care about things like new clothes and school supplies and haircuts. We didn’t look neglected, not enough for CPS to step in or anything. But Levi and I—we got made fun of in school. I tried to cut his hair myself, find him clothes that matched, but it was hard.”
My heart squeezes. I’m imagining a young Matt, trying so hard to keep his little brother from being bullied, struggling to cut his hair…
“I was pretty scrawny in school,” Matt continues. A wry smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “Not like now.”
“You’re certainly not scrawny now,” I agree, eyeballing his very impressive biceps.
“Back then I was bullied a lot. Pushed around. And then it started with Levi. I wanted to protect him, so I started working out. A lot. Running, staying after school to lift weights… And once Levi was old enough, I encouraged him to do it with me. So he could protect himself once I graduated.”
“Matt.” Shifting closer to him, I wrap my arm around his waist. “I’m sorry.”
Pink touches his ears again. “I didn’t date in high school. Not once. Even when I got bigger, no one was interested in this awkward computer nerd who dressed in clothes from the thrift store. Then I went into the Army and threw myself into it. So I never… I don’t say the right things. As I got older, women would approach me, but as soon as I said anything about computers or video games, they lost interest.”
“Well, they’re stupid,” I retort, anger edging my tone. “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met. You’re brave and smart and funny and handsome. Kind. Generous. And your teammates love you. Any woman who thinks less of you because you play video games is a complete idiot and doesn’t deserve you.”
Matt blinks.
My heart is racing. Did I really just say all that?
“Do you really think that?”
“Think what? That those women are stupid?”
“All of it.” Matt takes both my hands in his. A cautious hope lights his eyes. “Do you really think I’m incredible?”
Oh.
How could he possibly think he isn’t?
But then again. I know first hand how the scars from childhood can last a lifetime.
A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in my stomach.
How much of the truth do I tell him? What if I say something that ruins things between us?
On the other hand, what if it changes things for the better?
I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly before I say, “I think you’re beyond incredible, Matt. I like everything about you. Everything. How your ears turn pink when you’re embarrassed. How passionate you are about your interests. And I don’t care that you play video games. I think they’re fun. And I especially love playing them with you.”
Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “And I like how loyal you are to your friends. How you would do anything to protect the people you care about. I like how you always look up the answer whenever someone has a question not just because you want to help, but you’re interested in the answer. And I think”—pausing, I take another deep breath—“you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met. Not just handsome. Sexy.”
“You think all of that about me ?”
Slightly out of breath, I nod. “Yes. I do.”
His eyes glint. “You think I’m sexy?”
Great. Of all the things for him to ask about.
Face hot, suddenly feeling very uncertain, I whisper, “Yes. From the first time I met you. And now that I know you, I think you’re even sexier. Maybe I just made things weird…”
His hand comes to my cheek. “You didn’t.”
There’s an intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there before.
“I know you’re not interested in me like that,” I add quietly. “I hope I didn’t just mess things up.”
His eyes darken to a deep espresso. “Not interested in you?”
“Well, since I’m a client. And”—I gesture at my still-flat belly—“you know.”
“Isla. That is so far from…” He pauses. Swallows hard. “You’re all I think about. Not as a client. But as a woman I’m definitely interested in.”
My heart lifts. “Interested how?”
“Isles.” Matt’s thumb strokes my cheek. “Like a woman I want to date. But you have so much going on. I don’t want?—”
And just like that, my hopes plummet. “Is it because I’m pregnant?” Tears of disappointment prickle behind my eyes. “I don’t blame you. It’s okay.”
“No.” It’s quick. Adamant. “Not because you’re pregnant. Because you’re dealing with a lot. And I don’t want to take advantage when you’re vulnerable.”
Oh.
Lifting my chin, I look him in the eyes as I ask, “Do you think I could be taken advantage of? Or that I don’t know what I want?”
“Not exactly.” A beat. “No. I just don’t want to do something that could hurt you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
And in this moment, I can see everything he’s feeling.
The longing he’s tried to keep hidden. The desire. The feelings that are so much deeper than friendship. And the battle he’s been enduring as he tries to do the right thing.
“I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you, Isles.” Even as he says it, his face moves closer to mine. Close enough to smell the sweet mint scent of his toothpaste. Close enough to see the flecks of amber and gold in his eyes.
My breath catches. Could he hurt me? Yes. If I let myself fall for him and he leaves, I’ll be devastated.
But is it worth the risk?
Yes.
“You won’t,” I tell him firmly. “And if I want this, and you want it, then it can’t be wrong. Can it?”
His other hand comes to my cheek, framing my face.
“We’ll take things slow, then,” he says. “Is that okay? Just to make sure you’re alright with everything?”
“Yes. It’s okay.”
“And you’ll tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable?”
“Yes, Matt.”
But sweet, lovely Matt isn’t done. “And if you change your mind, don’t think it’ll change anything with B and A. It won’t. Ever. I prom?—”
His words cut off as I cover his lips with mine.
There’s a moment of hesitation, when Matt goes perfectly still.
Then.
He kisses me back.
Tender at first, it’s a gentle exploration.
Then he lightly nips my lower lip, using his tongue to stroke away the small sting.
Desire coils in my belly. My nipples go hard.
One hand comes to my nape, tipping my head back.
I grab Matt’s shoulders, pulling myself closer to him.
Tasting of mint and a hint of something that’s uniquely him, he teases my mouth open and dips inside. Our tongues perform a sensual dance together, a prelude to things I’ve thought about many times as I lay in bed at night.
My skin is on fire, sparks flaring wherever he touches me. My cheek. My neck. The line of my jaw. As his hand moves to my back, heat sears through my shirt.
I ache to feel his fingers on my bare skin. Not just my face. But everywhere.
Matt draws me to him, his big hand splayed across the small of my back.
My breasts rub against his chest, drawing my already sensitive nipples into taut peaks.
Need pulses inside me.
I’ve never wanted a man this much.
Never felt on the cusp of falling in love with just one kiss.
Kissing Matt is everything.
By the time we break apart, my lungs are bursting. But it’s the best kind of breathlessness. It’s hope and joy and desire and an indescribable emotion that makes me feel close to tears.
I’ve never felt like this before.
“Isla.” Matt holds my gaze as he brushes his thumb across my lips. “Was that as good for you as it was?—”
“Yes,” I blurt out. “ Yes . It was incredible.”
A few silent seconds go by before he responds; long enough for my insecurities to come rushing in. Long enough for me to worry he’s changed his mind. That he’s decided I’m a terrible kisser. Or the possibility of this thing between us is a complication he doesn’t want.
But then he smiles, his entire face lighting up with it. A hint of uncertainty flickers, but hope quickly chases it away. “So… are we dating? Is it too soon for that?”
I have to stifle a laugh. Dating seems like such a vast understatement for what I feel about Matt. But now’s not the time for that kind of revelation. Not yet.
Climbing onto his lap, I snuggle against his chest, and his arms come around me, hugging me to him. “It’s not too soon,” I reply. Then I kiss his neck, loving the contradiction of rough stubble and soft skin on my lips. “It’s definitely not too soon.”
His lips press to the top of my head. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.” He pauses. His chest rises and falls. “And I will do whatever it takes to make you happy. And keep you safe. I promise.”