Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
OWEN
M y muscles are wrung tight as I stride down the corridor toward her room. The moment I got the call from Nico, I dropped everything to be exactly where I belong, by her side.
The pressure inside is combustible, and I know deep in my soul that I won’t settle until she’s in my arms. I need to see her, to hold her and know myself she’s safe. That she’s mine. Above all else, I need to reassure her. I don’t want a sliver of doubt to be in that beautiful head of hers that she’s anything but mine.
All. Fucking. Mine.
Sweat beads on my forehead as her room gets closer, and my blood pumps with a feral need to touch her to bring me solace.
It’s been too long. The day in the restaurant was the last time I saw her, and it feels like an eternity, and an unusual nervousness bubbles inside me. The moment I arrive outside her door, I take a deep breath to steel myself. Nico explained she was in a state of shock from Carlos’s demise, so I have to show her my support and compassion, but I will also make it known that both her and Romero are mine now, as they always should have been.
I swipe my sweaty palms down my jeans and take a deep breath before exhaling, then raise my hand and give the door a knock. My body vibrates with an urge to storm the room when nothing happens, so I mentally chastise myself before repeating the process. “Come fucking on, Laya,” I grumble to myself.
“Laya?” I grit out in annoyance.
Then I hear movement and the sound of the locks disengaging.
The moment the door opens, she flings herself at me, and my arms automatically band around her petite waist. I nuzzle into her hair, relieved her scent hasn’t changed, that she hasn’t changed.
“Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl. I got you.” I scoop her up in my arms, desperate to hold her close to my heart, to soothe the heavy thud that penetrates my skin, and walk into the room.
She’s here.
She’s here with me, and I’m never letting her go. “Shhh.” I press soft kisses to her hair, using it to reassure me as much as her. She’s finally here. Finally in my fucking arms.
“You’re safe.” She hiccups at my words while she tangles her fingers in my shirt, fisting it. “You’re fucking safe, baby girl. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” I hate hearing her cry like this; the low sobs break my heart. “Let it all out, Laya. I’m here.”
I walk us over to the bed, then my feet come to a standstill. Staring down at the pillows, I set eyes on my son for the first time—Romero.
Emotion lodges in my throat like a thick ball, stealing my ability to swallow. With it comes a fierce determination.
He’s mine now. They both are.
I take in his little features, the way his lips are pulled into a cute bow, like Laya’s when she pouts. His small fists are bunched tight, and his mop of dark hair looks as silky as Laya’s.
Somehow, I swallow and whisper to myself, “He has your hair.”
My lips twitch at his little romper. “He’s perfect.” Love drips from me, a fierce need to claim them both officially as mine. “Just perfect,” I whisper.
This moment, with the woman I love in my arms and the first time I set eyes on my son, will be forever carved into my memories, into my heart.
Today is the start of the rest of our lives.
We just have to weather the storm to secure it.