42. Willow
Life continued, although nothing felt the same after that day.
I witnessed Royce’s brutality, and I loved him even more for it. It took me a few days to regain my strength, but the doctor assured us—several times—that the drugs Stuart injected into me had no effect on the baby.
Royce, being Royce, kept a keen eye on me. For three days, he held me tightly, periodically checking my heartbeat. He even arranged to have gel and a portable ultrasound machine brought out to us on the boat, courtesy of a sizable donation to the local hospital. He insisted on taking my temperature and my blood pressure, and I half expected him to perform an OB/GYN exam. To my relief, he didn’t.
He flew my parents and best friends in on the fourth day, and they brought so much junk food that Royce scolded them, forcing them to throw it overboard.
For the sharks to eat, he’d said, or I could throw you both over and let them feed on you instead.
Not that he’d ever succeed. One look from Alexei and Raphael had me tugging on his sleeve, reminding him of our audience and the lack of humor they shared.
“Look what I brought?” Aurora waved bags of crab chips, which she used to devour while pregnant with Kostya. “I’m craving these like they’re crack.”
Sailor rolled her eyes. “For everyone’s sake, let’s hope it’s not.”
“We can’t feed our baby this kind of junk,” Royce growled as he begrudgingly took a seat next to me.
I took his hand into mine. “You’re taking this a bit too far, babe.”
“No, no. Royce is right,” M?e agreed while my papà nodded in agreement. “You’re growing a baby. My grandchild. You have to ensure you give it all the right stuff.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nobody said that to Sailor when she was eating gallons of ice cream. Or Aurora when she insisted on crab chips by the boatload.”
Sailor’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “I still can’t stomach crab chips to this day.”
Aurora nodded her head. “I couldn’t either.” Then her eyes flitted to her husband before she added, “Until recently.”
Was she?—
“Does Kostya like crab chips?” Royce asked his sister. “I thought he didn’t like junk food.”
Her gaze darted to the little version of her husband, studying the navigation system and probably planning on dismantling it the moment nobody was looking. “He detests it. Anything with an Old Bay seasoning and he’s ready to gag. But then, that’s more of a Maryland thing, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” I went for reverse psychology. “Wouldn’t that mean that I should eat junk food? You know, so that the baby will prefer healthy food?”
“Not my baby,” Sailor beamed, immediately shutting down my approach. “She loves her ice cream.”
“How could she not,” I teased. “It’s making her irresistible to everyone around her.”
While Kostya could be intimidating and almost dark, Anya was the opposite. Her angelic face and sweet personality had us all eating out of the palm of her hands.
“They’d make a cute couple,” I remarked, tilting my chin in the children’s direction where Kostya towered over Anya by a head while giving her his own lollipop. The lopsided grin she gave him with hearts in her eyes had my heart melting.
“Over my dead body,” Raphael grumbled.
“Are you saying your Anya is too good for my son?” Aurora sounded offended, the children completely oblivious to the ridiculous conversation going on.
Alexei’s hand gentled around his wife’s waist. “No, kroshka, he means that Kostya’s too good for little Anya. Isn’t that right, Santos?”
Raphael scoffed. “In your dreams.”
“What’s wrong with my Anya?” Sailor asked, offended. “She and Kostya are already friends. What better way to make?—”
“Don’t say lovers, my reina.” Raphael’s voice was anguished. “Anya will forever be daddy’s little girl.”
Sailor snorted. “I was going to say a couple, but now?—”
“But now you want to arrange their marriage?” Royce chimed in unhelpfully with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.
I smacked his arm playfully. “Stop. You know they’ll get you back for it.”
Royce grinned. “I’m counting on it.”
My parents rolled their eyes, their gazes meeting for a meaningful moment. “I guess they’ll eventually learn that love works in mysterious ways,” my papà announced.
“Maybe,” M?e agreed before going into interrogation mode. “How long will you two be honeymooning?”
“We found a perfect house for you,” Papà added. “Just a block from us.”
Royce and I shared a look, stifling a smile. For the past few days, my parents had been hinting at wanting us close to them. In Portugal. They were terribly unsubtle. We both agreed we wanted to be in Europe—after all, all our family and close friends spent most of their time there now. But as much as I loved my parents, we couldn’t be walking distance from them. Unannounced visits should be a rarity, not the norm.
“I think we’ll take another few months and see some more of the world before the baby comes,” Royce answered, looking as handsome as ever. He exuded masculinity with his shirt rolled to his elbows, revealing his strong, inked forearms. “But we agreed we’ll settle in Portugal or Spain. We have an agent scouting properties. Once we narrow it down, we’ll make appointments.”
I dare say my parents heard nothing after Portugal, both of them grinning like they’d just won the lottery.
The commotion of the next hour buzzed with promises of a future where I’d finally have my own happily-ever-after with the boy I kissed ten years ago.
Our love story might have not been conventional, and our soon-to-be extended family would be different from my friends’, but it was perfect nonetheless.
This was our life, our future, and we’d live it to the fullest.