Chapter 18
The nudge against my ribs jolted me awake, and my eyes snapped open in the predawn darkness. It took half a second to orient myself.
Dede was plastered against my side like I were specifically designed for her comfort. Her leg was hooked over mine, her arm stretched across my chest, and her face buried in the curve of my neck.
At some point in the past two hours—after I’d closed my laptop and slipped into bed beside her—she’d migrated across six inches of mattress and wrapped herself around me like I was her personal pregnancy pillow.
I remained perfectly still, not wanting to wake her. Not wanting this to end.
The scent of her shea butter night moisturizer filled my senses. Her satin bonnet had shifted in sleep, revealing the edge of her hairline. Her breath was warm against my throat, each exhale sending a ripple of awareness through me.
Her body was soft everywhere it pressed against mine. Breast, belly, thigh. All that lush feminine warmth molded against me.
Another kick, stronger this time. I felt it through her belly pressed against my side.
Dede’s eyes flew open, unfocused at first, still soft with sleep. She looked warm and rumpled and utterly content.
Then I saw the exact moment awareness crashed back in. Her body went rigid, and her eyes widened with panic.
She jerked back. “I didn’t mean to. I must’ve moved while sleeping.”
“Stop moving.” My hand settled on her stomach before she could pull away. “You will hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. You are panicking over nothing.” I kept my hand in place. “One of them kicked. Hard enough to wake me.”
Her hand moved to cover mine on her belly. “They do that in the morning.”
“It hurts you?”
“No. It’s just…” Another kick, directly under my palm this time. Her breath caught. “Weird.”
I spread my fingers wider, feeling the babies moving beneath them . My children. Our children. The reality of it hit me fresh every time.
“Which one was this?” I asked.
“How would I know?” But her tone had softened. “It’s not like they’re announcing themselves.”
“The one on the right, it is more aggressive. It is our son.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Call it father’s intuition, yes.” I pulled her closer, adjusting her position until she relaxed against me. “Better?”
“We shouldn’t be this close.”
“Dede.” I waited until she looked at me. “This resistance, it is illogical. I am trying to help. You need help. Therefore, you should accept help. This is not complicated, yes.”
“You really think it’s that simple?”
“It is simple. You make it complicated with unnecessary pride.”
“You’re the father of my children,” she said finally. “And my daughter’s father-in-law.”
It wasn’t enough. Not even close. I needed her as my wife, truly mine.
“That is start, yes,” I said, covering her hand with mine, pressing it more firmly against my chest. Against the heart that beat faster whenever she was near.
I had loved Lydia with all my heart. Had ended my engagement to another woman to pursue her. But this fever that burned in my blood when Dede looked at me, when she touched me, and when she curled against me in sleep was consuming.
Lydia had been the woman I chose with my head and heart. Dede was the woman my body and soul demanded.
“Has Santo told you anything about Tia?” she asked quietly.
“Has something happened?”
“No. Nothing like that.” She looked away.
“It’s just... Tia and I haven’t talked much since last November.
We used to talk several times a day and now.
..” She trailed off, her hand moving restlessly on my chest. “Now it’s like she can’t get off the phone fast enough.
She doesn’t approve of the pregnancy, and when she finds out you’re the father.
..” Her voice cracked slightly. “I’m going to lose her forever.
She’s my only family besides these babies. ”
The pain in her voice cut through me. I tightened my arms around her, feeling her tremble.
“You will not lose her, no. Chrysanthos, he has not said anything to me. But I can find out what is going on with her.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Don’t.”
“Then what do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. I just... I needed to talk to someone, and you’re the only other person I know who’s in my shoes.”
“We will manage it, yes? We tell them together. They are adults and will adjust.” I said it as if it were obvious. “Their emotional reaction, it is not our responsibility.”
She pulled back to look at me. “Aris, these are our children. Of course, their feelings matter.”
“I did not say their feelings do not matter. I said we are not responsible for managing them. They will feel what they feel, and then they will move forward. As adults do.”
“That’s... really cold.”
Was it? I was simply being practical.
“It is realistic.” I pressed my lips to her forehead, and she exhaled against my chest. “You are not alone in this, Dede. Not with our adult children, not with babies, not with any of it.”
She’d been alone through too much already. She didn’t have a proper family during her formative years, and then she’d faced her daughter’s cancer diagnosis and built her business while raising Tia by herself. But those days were over.
Whether she’d accepted it yet or not, she was mine now. I had never been good at letting go of what belonged to me.
The main house’s dining room was already occupied when we arrived. Bronson and Vienna sat at one end of the long table, heads bent together over Bronson’s phone.
“Dede!” Vienna looked up with a bright smile. “You look pretty.”
“Thank you.” Dede’s smile matched Vienna’s.
We settled into our seats as a staff member poured coffee and set out pastries. Douglas arrived moments later, followed by Mariela, Maxwell, and Sarah. The conversation stayed light—the weather, the distillery’s history, safe topics that revealed nothing.
Bronson was charming during the conversation, asking thoughtful questions about the distillery’s history and complimenting Mariela on the breakfast spread. His enthusiasm seemed authentic as he discussed the craftsmanship of the original barrels.
I could see why EchoHive had chosen him as their lead. He had natural charisma.
Then he turned his attention to Dede. “How far along are you, Deanna?”
“Five months,” Dede answered.
“Right. So you’ll be taking maternity leave right around the time the campaign would launch.
” He said it as if he were problem-solving.
“I saw firsthand with my sister how demanding those first few months are. The sleep deprivation alone is no joke.” He shook his head sympathetically.
“She could barely string two thoughts together for the first six months.”
Every muscle in my body tightened. He was going after her pregnancy. Not her work. Not her experience. Her womanhood.
“Many women manage both,” Dede said, her voice tight.
“Of course they do. Of course.” Bronson held up his hands.
“I’m not questioning your ability at all.
I’m just thinking about what’s best for the Embers family.
This is a critical growth phase for Black Ember.
They need an agency partner who can be fully present and available.
Not someone who’s dealing with postpartum recovery.
” He paused. “It’s just reality. And I’d hate to see such a promising partnership get derailed because the timing wasn’t right. ”
“Yes, I’ll be taking maternity leave. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.
But I’ll also be building a dedicated team specifically for this account before then.
Black Ember would be my flagship partnership.
The foundation of my agency’s growth.” She turned to Douglas.
“Which means I have more invested in your success, not less. This isn’t just another account I’m servicing. It’s personal.”
“That’s admirable,” Bronson said smoothly. “But intention doesn’t solve the practical problem of availability—”
“Let me ask you something, Bronson, yes,” I said, cutting him off. “When you broke your leg last year while skiing, did that make you less committed to your clients? Less capable of doing your job?”
“That’s hardly the same—”
“Is it not? You are suggesting temporary physical condition—pregnancy, postpartum recovery—somehow negates professional competence. By your logic, anyone who gets sick, injured, or needs medical leave, they are unemployable. Or is it only pregnant women you consider liabilities?”
Mariela was frowning. Sarah looked uncomfortable. Douglas’s expression remained unreadable, but he was listening.
Maxwell set down his coffee cup. “I think,” he said slowly, “that we should focus on the work itself. Not on anyone’s personal circumstances.”
“Amen to that.” Mariela fixed Bronson with a look that could curdle milk. “I ran this distillery while raisin’ five babies and keepin’ Douglas in line. You questionin’ my commitment too, young man?”
Bronson paled. “I apologize if I gave the wrong impression. That wasn’t my intent at all.”
“Then maybe,” Douglas drawled, “you oughta think twice ‘fore you start implyin’ things you got no call to say.”
Vienna jumped in, clearly trying to salvage the situation. “Bronson just meant that EchoHive has the depth of resources to ensure continuity—”
“Every agency, it has teams,” I said flatly. “That is not unique selling point. What Bronson does not have is courage to compete on actual merit instead of trying to disqualify his competition with sexism.”
“I appreciate my husband’s... passionate defense,” Dede said. “I’ll be happy to address any concerns about my availability and team structure during my presentation. Which is where those questions belong.”
Sarah spoke up for the first time. “Denna’s right. We should let the presentations speak for themselves.”
“Absolutely.” Bronson’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I look forward to showing you what EchoHive can do.”
Under the table, I found Dede’s hand curled into a fist against her thigh. I covered it with mine and squeezed.
She didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers slowly uncurled and interlaced with mine.
Back at the cottage, Dede spread her materials across the small table, reviewing everything one final time. I made tea without asking and set it beside her.
“Thank you for the tea.” She glanced up. “And for what you said at breakfast.”
“You are welcome,” I said, covering her hand with mine.
Dede looked up at me, and I thought she might kiss me. Saw the thought cross her face, saw her eyes drop to my mouth.
She pulled away and turned back to her materials. “I should review my presentation.”
I pulled out my phone, giving her space to work. The silence that followed was comfortable.
Through my periphery, I watched her work. The way she worried her bottom lip when she was concentrating. The way she absently rubbed her belly when the babies moved.
“How did you know?” she asked suddenly.
“Know what?”
“About Bronson’s broken leg.”
“I ordered background check on him last night. Wanted to know what we were dealing with.”
Her mouth formed an O. “You had him... investigated?”
“I did.” I set my phone down. “He is EchoHive’s top performer, brings in about thirty percent of their revenue.
Makes good money but spends more. His divorce settlement, it cleaned him out last year.
He has been chasing bigger contracts to rebuild.
Lost two major pitches last quarter.” I glanced at her. “He needs this win. Badly.”
“I need it too,” she said quietly. “I’ve been building the agency one client at a time, cold-calling companies, chasing smaller contracts.
Black Ember is the difference between having to hustle constantly for the next deal and having the foundation to build something bigger.
” She pressed her hands against her belly.
“What if I blow this and I’m back to making endless cold calls while dealing with sleepless nights and postpartum recovery?
What if I can’t provide for these babies the way I want to? ”
“You will not blow this,” I assured her.
“And even if something went wrong, you will survive if you do not get Black Ember. Your agency, it is profitable, and you have steady clients.” I gave her a pointed look.
“Plus, you are marrying into considerable wealth whether you like it or not, and I have strong opinions about who should provide financially for my children. Bronson, he is scrambling to prove he is still EchoHive’s golden boy.
This is why he went after you at breakfast.”
She absorbed that, then turned her tablet toward me. “What do you think?”
I moved to stand behind her chair, looking at her presentation. She’d organized it around three core pillars, each woven through with specific stories about the Embers family. Photos she’d sourced. Historical details. Personal touches that showed she’d done actual research.
“This is strong work,” I said. “EchoHive has corporate muscle, but Douglas does not need that. If he had, he would have gone with major agency years ago. He needs someone who understands what he is protecting.”
“Your confidence is either going to be proven right,” she said slowly, “or spectacularly embarrassing.”
“I am never embarrassed.” I checked my watch. “Twenty minutes. You should review your opening one more time, yes.”
Dede was quiet for a long moment, staring at her presentation. “You’re right. I need to stop second-guessing myself.”
“There is my arravoniastikós. I knew she was in there somewhere, hiding behind unnecessary doubt.”
She shot me a look. “I’m not your fiancée!”
“It is only matter of time, agápi mou.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught her smile as she turned back to her laptop.
Progress.