35. Epilogue
Chapter thirty-five
Epilogue
R eaching out a hand, I stroke my pen down the paper as the early morning breeze flutters the curtains and causes the piece I'm working on to flutter too. I eye the design for the tenth time, making sure it's perfect. I refuse to tell Isobel that I can't get a piece of the miniature house right that she'd asked me to build for Mariah, our one month old daughter.
It's a two story stone house, like ours, just a smaller version, with pink shutters, a black roof, a fully functioning living room, and she wants it attached to our house so when Mariah is older she can go to her house at any time of the year. This is going to be one spoiled child. A couple months ago, Isobel took my idea for a garden and asked if I could build Mariah a tiny house to go next to it.
Of course I can.
I can give my love whatever she wants .
A movement in my peripheral catches my eye. My head turns, glancing out the door of Mariah's nursery, to see Isobel in our bed laying on her side next to her, holding a soft lovie and stroking it gently down her face. When Mariah smiles and jerks, my heart squeezes with happiness. To think just a year and a half ago I'd met her for the first time.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think my life would look so full.
"King?" Isobel calls in a soft voice. "Honey, we have to go!"
Putting the paper to the side, I walk into our bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed, admiring her. She's wearing a beautiful strapless blue maxi-dress and her hair is natural, falling in curls and waves down her breasts and arms. Arousal rises swift and hard, causing my groin to tighten and my blood to race with need; however, we have another two weeks to go before I can make love to her.
"You look gorgeous, love," I compliment, bending down to give her a kiss on her forehead. Leaning down further, I press my lips to Mariah's cheek, taking in her new baby smell. "Come here, sweet thing. You're pretty, too," I coo to Mariah, pulling her gently into my arms and cradling her to my chest.
Just having been fed, she yawns, her tiny body stretching hard between my two hands. She nuzzles into my neck, and her light gray eyes blink twice before shutting. I rub her back in soothing circles, keeping my voice low. "I'll get her in the seat, if you can grab Teresa's gift?"
Isobel smiles. "Do you think she'll like it?"
Chuckling, I rise off the bed and hold my hand out, helping her up. "If she doesn't like it then tough luck because there's no plan b."
"Plan b?" Isobel giggles. "Think they know what that is?" She bends, grabbing the flat, wrapped gift off the nightstand and then tucking herself under my arm as we walk out of our bedroom .
"You be careful before we forget what it is, too," I warn her in a low voice, sneaking my hand down to grab her ass.
She shoots me a wary look, but if only she knew how tempted I was to take her right this second so she could become pregnant again.
We split at the end of the stairs, me, heading to the mudroom where we store Mariah's stroller and carseat, and her, going towards the kitchen to grab the deviled eggs she'd made for Teresa's baby shower. She'd found out she was pregnant not even a month after Isobel was abducted by her father.
An hour an a half later, we make our way through Teresa and Brody's front door of the exquisitely decorated penthouse, handing our coats to their butler. I take Mariah out of the seat, and put it in their mudroom, out of the way, before rejoining Isobel who is handing off her tray of eggs to Alice, my sister's maid.
"Straight in the refrigerator, please Alice," Isobel says, giving the blonde woman a smile.
We walk through the hallway, following the chatter and noise of our family. Mariah wiggles in my arms, finally waking up. Rounding the corner into the two story living space, my smile broadens at the plethora of blue and white balloons, and the table laden down with gifts wrapped in blue and green paper.
And the fancy, eight-foot diaper cake smack dab in the middle, courtesy of Donna, who did the same thing for us at our baby shower.
Teresa was overjoyed for a boy.
Everyone's here. Teresa and Brody, Donna, my father and mother. My eyes search through the sea of people, not seeing Mason or Melody. I frown, bending down to accept a kiss from my mother who's trying to take Mariah from my arms. But I'm tense, my eyes scanning the room, looking past the faces of the various guests who are milling around and talking.
"Henny," Madre snaps. "Let me have her, please."
Turning my head, I see my mother standing in front of me, looking at me with a furious expression. My brows rise and I fight against the incredibly uncomfortable feeling of irritation that's becoming more familiar with every family get together. "Where's Mason?" I ask, handing Mariah to her, intending to do a deep dive of my sister's apartment.
If I catch them fucking I will shut this whole baby shower down.
"I just saw him maybe ten minutes ago," Madre says, giving me a curious glance. "Why mijo, what's wrong?"
I shake my head and step around her. "Nothing, mama. I'll be back to check on Mariah in a minute." Stopping in my tracks, I turn to look back behind me. "Don't let any strangers hold her."
Mardre rolls her eyes at me and just turns and walks away without responding, headed to where my father stands talking to Brody at the drinks station. Seeing Isobel is firmly engrossed with Teresa by the patio doors, I do a sweep of the lower level, not seeing them. I walk up the stairs, bristling with anger.
I bank a left and open every door to the bedrooms and even the bathroom and laundry rooms, not seeing them. I double back and then stop at the last door, pushing through where I see Mason sitting on a sofa with his feet kicked back on an ottoman looking at his phone. He turns his head towards me, arching a brow.
"Figured you'd be showing up any time now," he says in a bored voice, turning back to his phone.
Walking deeper into the room, I see Melody sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, immersed in a book. She looks up with a small smile. "Hi, Henny."
"Hey, Melody. Why aren't you down with everyone else?" I say, walking towards the couch where I sit determinedly, because I won't be leaving them alone together. I look over at Mason and see his face has flushed slightly darker, the only tell he's giving me he's pissed off with me.
"Mom and I came a little early to help set up. We've been here for hours. Though, I'm not sure why," Melody mutters, turning a page. "Teresa has staff to set up whatever she wants."
I grunt softly. "Maybe she just wants to feel useful. Nothing wrong with that." Turning my head, I put my gaze on hers. "Hey Mel, do you think you can give me and Mason a second to talk? Isobel brought those deviled eggs you love so much. Might want to go down and get them before they're cleaned out."
"Ohh, Mase, you want a couple?" she asks, leaning forward to place the book on the table in front of us.
"Sure. I'll take some." His eyes flick to hers, watching as she gets up and smoothes her dress down her legs. He keeps his eyes on hers as she bites her lip.
"Want a sprite?" she asks, but it's much more hesitant than how she asked him if he wanted deviled eggs. My brow rises, my gut telling me something's up with that.
"Hmhm," he hums, a spark enters his eyes. But I can't place why.
She walks out of the library, leaving us alone.
"What do you want?" Mason asks in annoyance, looking back at his phone. Anger rises swift and hot in my chest.
"You don't have the fucking right to act so pissed with me after everything that's happened," I say, trying to keep the malice out of my voice. It took a lot for me to forgive him for his hand in Isobel's disappearance.
His eyes go back to mine. "Hendrix, I'm doing everything you asked. Everything. I haven't set a toe out of line."
"I know. Now I'm going to ask you for one more thing. "
The silence swells between us, and he places his hand slowly on his thigh before clenching it. Throwing a hasty look at the door, his eyes flash with something akin to panic as they flit back to meet mine. "I won't give her up. You can ask anything you want from me but that," he says harshly, his eyes tight on mine.
A new expression enters his eyes. Sadness.
It's when I realize just how much Melody means to him.
"No, I don't want you to give her up," I say. Relief drapes his features, but I lean forward, clasping my hands together between my knees. "But I do want to ask you to wait until she's through with college."
His eyes narrow. "Hendrix, that's four and a half fucking years away," he hisses. " No!"
"She needs time," I snap. "Look at how hard she took Isobel's disappearance." Mason sits back in his seat and scrubs a hand down his face, letting out a frustrated groan. "Look at how every time we get together she secludes herself from the rest of us. She needs time to come into herself, Mason."
He exhales a deep breath, his eyes sliding to the library windows and staring.
"You don't want to get her, Mason, and then she breaks your heart because she hasn't experienced anything of the world," I say, softening my voice. "I'm not just worried about her. I'm worried about you too."
Shaking his head he proceeds to stay silent. After a few minutes, he pierces me with his gaze. "I'm opening up a finance company under King Dynasty. I need a floor in your building."
I pause, staring for long drawn out seconds, not expecting this request. "Okay…" I say slowly. "Are you ready?"
He nods just as Melody enters the room. "I've been ready. "
As she passes by us, Mason keeps his eyes unwavering on me. Something's shifted in his attitude that I can't explain, but I have a hunch Isobel's sister lies at the root of it.
"Alright then." I get up, extending my hand to him. "Welcome to King Dynasty, brother."
Mason nods, accepting my handshake and then turning his eyes to Melody. As do I. Wariness and hope swirls in one fucked up tornado in my gut as I envision our future, praying it's not a fragile one. We've been through enough. I vow to keep Melody close to make sure that Mason's influence doesn't corrupt her.
I'll do anything to protect my little family. Even if it means protecting them from each other.