Chapter 41
Reassembled
Langston
Idon’t hear the scuffle behind her.
Don’t register raised voices or the scrape of shoes against marble.
All I know is her.
Her arms around my neck. Her words still echoing in my head like a truth I’ll spend the rest of my life holding onto.
She loves me.
The world narrows to that single fact.
I pull her tighter, crushing her to my chest like if I don’t anchor myself to her, I’ll lose my footing again. My hands slide up her sides, into her hair, my mouth finding hers without thought or restraint. I kiss her like I’m relearning how to breathe.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips. Then again. And again. Like a promise. Like a vow I should have made sooner.
Eventually, the chaos behind us quiets. I help her to her feet, keeping a hand at her back as I guide her into the bathroom. I wait outside, leaning against the wall, my pulse still too loud, my hands shaking now that the adrenaline has somewhere to go.
That’s when a familiar presence drifts into the hallway.
Cross strolls toward me like he’s got nowhere better to be, whistling under his breath.
“Took the asshole out the back,” he says casually. “What do you want done with him?”
I don’t hesitate.
“I don’t want blood on this,” I say flatly. “Just make sure he doesn’t step foot in Chicago again.”
Cross’s smile spreads slow and dangerous. “That’s a lot of wiggle room for me and Romeo.”
He claps a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Hell of a night. Donation’s at the front. And tell your wife Samantha wants coffee soon.”
Then he’s gone, like none of this was anything out of the ordinary.
Sabrina steps out of the bathroom moments later, looking steadier, stronger. When we return to the event, no one knows my world just shattered—and somehow reassembled into something better.
When we finally get home, the door barely closes before Olga launches herself at us like a missile.
I drop to the floor instinctively, laughing as she barrels into me, tail wagging hard enough to knock over a lamp if she gets close.
Sabrina laughs above me. “She’s like a toddler with fur.”
I look up at my wife—flushed, radiant, alive—and something settles deep in my chest.
I stand, take her face in my hands, suddenly serious. “You’re going to be an incredible mom one day,” I say quietly. “And I can’t wait for that future with you.”
Her smile turns soft, mischievous. “Then you better hurry and take me upstairs,” she murmurs. “We’ve got work to do.”
I scoop her up easily, her laughter wrapping around me as I carry her toward the stairs.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
She smiles, warm and sure.
“I love you too.”