Chapter 17
17
EMILY
I stare at the plaque on Pamela’s grave. It’s a marble slab of shiny stone, engraved with the words “LOVING MOTHER” at the top. Below that is inscribed Pamela’s full name, as well as the dates of her birth and death. My eyes prick as I lean down to caress my fingers over the cold stone.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, but in the end, I fucked it up.”
To my surprise, I feel a gentle hand rest on my shoulder in answer. I spin quickly. “Mom?” I ask, my eyes scanning the wide expanse of lawn. “Mom, is that you?”
But Pamela’s not there. Instead, my son begins to cry as his father bobbles him in his strong arms, standing a respectful twenty feet back.
“Shhh, Blazey,” Christian murmurs. “It’s a gorgeous day, and we’re paying our respects to your grandmother. You hear that, baby boy? Grandma is looking down from Heaven, and she adores you.”
Tears prick my eyes because how can this be happening? My heart contracts as I swallow around the giant lump in my throat. How did I screw up so bad? I never meant to cause my mom’s death. I genuinely believed that by keeping my son’s existence a secret, I’d be helping things along.
But now that I’m a parent myself, I understand better. A mother’s love is all-consuming, and if I ever lost Blaze, my heart would break as I withered away. I suppose that’s what happened to my mother, despite Pamela being distracted for a lot of my life, and being obsessed with her work. Yet after peeling away all the layers, what burned bright and true was my mom’s devotion to me.
I get up, wiping my eyes, before straightening my skirt. My eyes feel hot and dry now, despite being filled with tears just moments earlier. A lovely bouquet has been placed at her headstone, and I blink hard as emotions roil in my chest.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” I whisper. “I love you.”
Then, I turn away and look straight into Christian’s eyes. The billionaire looks back, sure and steady, cradling our son in his strong arms. Another lump forms in my throat and I shove my hands in my pockets before staring down at the grass.
What’s happening in my life? I don’t know where we are as a couple at the moment because everything became a whirlwind the moment the alpha male stepped into our lives. Christian saw his son, and the possession was immediate. We were out of the trailer park within a week, moving in with him in his penthouse. In fact, it only took that long because he needed time to convert one of his spare bedrooms into a nursery, with a crib, changing table, and all the accoutrements. But the billionaire was unrelenting in his desire to have us live with him.
“You’re leaving this place,” he growled, disgust clouding his harsh features as he looked around my trailer. “Where do you even sleep? There’s only one bedroom and I didn’t see a mattress in there.”
I prickled at his judgment.
“For your information, I have a Murphy bed,” I replied in a haughty tone as two spots of color burned into my cheeks. “I still need to get things done after Blaze goes down for the night, so I gave him the bedroom. Your son needs his peace and quiet.”
Christian just looked confused.
“What’s a Murphy bed?”
The two spots of color burned hotter as I felt myself incinerating with embarrassment.
“It’s a bed that pulls down from the wall,” I said in a stiff voice. “The strap is right there, next to the cabinet, see? It’s very common in trailers because of the limited space available.”
Realization dawned on Christian’s handsome features, and his eyes turned calculating.
“There’s not enough space here for you two,” he said in a casual, yet not casual, tone. “My son needs more, and he needs better. Both of you are moving in with me.”
I gasped, outraged.
“ What ? No! I’ve worked hard to have a place to call our own. Blaze is happy here, and he’s never wanted for anything! Besides, I have a job, just like any hard-working single mom. Maybe I’m not a vet tech, the way I thought I’d be, but Tiny Tots Daycare was hiring, and they like me. They hired me on the spot after my interview, and they’ve been good to me.”
Christian nodded thoughtfully, rubbing the stubble on his square jaw.
“Let me guess,” he said in a smooth tone. “The daycare let you enroll Blaze as a discounted rate as one of the “perks” of your job. But they pay you pennies, so after deducting the cost of his tuition, you’re barely scraping by. Am I right?” he asks, one black brow raised. “Are you using the neighborhood food pantry as a result? The hell if my son’s going to live like that,” he grinds out, sparks shooting from that fierce blue gaze. “No Degas needs to beg.”
My lower lip trembled, and to my horror, tears pricked my eyes.
“I’ve done fine, thank you very much. Blaze is fine, and we’re very happy here in Fairview. Maybe we don’t have much when it comes to material things, but I assure you, your son is well-loved and well-cared for. We don’t need anything from you.”
Christian seemed to soften just a fraction.
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, those blue eyes traveling up my curvy form to rest on my strained features. “I know you’ve worked hard, and thank you for taking such good care of my son, Emily. I’m just saying ... well, I’m still fucking angry that you never told me about my son,” he grinds out. “It kills me to know that I’ve missed out on the first year of his life.”
My own heart softens then.
“I know, and I’m sorry, Christian,” I said, putting a small hand on his strong forearm. “But you will be a part of Blaze’s life going forward, I promise. We just need to figure it out.”
The alpha male shot me a quick, piercing look.
“Well, part of it’s easy,” he drawls. “I have plenty of money, and there’s no need for government assistance, food pantries, or the charity of your employer. I can take care of my son. I’ll set up a college fund, he’ll have his own room, and Blazey will be free to laugh and play like any child if you move into my penthouse.”
I relented because the truth is that life has been a struggle, and I was being crushed under the weight. I don’t mean to throw my employer under the bus, but Christian guessed right: after the cost of Blaze’s tuition is deducted from my paycheck, there’s hardly anything left. I scrimp and save to afford our rent at the trailer park, and I’ve been forced to go to the neighborhood pantry more than a few times to supplement our meals. Fortunately, Blaze doesn’t eat much because he’s still a baby, but I’d been dreading the day when he begins to eat more as he grows.
So I’m relieved to be back in Vegas, sheltered in Christian’s huge apartment. The baby is safe, happy, and well-cared for, and the alpha male even went out of his way to find a full-time nanny for our child.
“That isn’t necessary,” I mumbled when I found out. “I don’t have a job right now, so I have more than enough time to take care of Blaze. We’re very close. Our mother-child bond is strong.”
Christian nodded, his blue eyes gentle for once.
“I know, and I can see that,” he said, nodding at the sleeping child in my arms. “But you’re tired, Emily. I can see it in your face, and your eyes. You’ve been caring for our son on your own for more than a year, so let me take some of the burden from you. Blaze is my child too, and you deserve a break.”
I didn’t have the energy to resist. The fact is that I am exhausted from new motherhood, and I’ve been drained in every way imaginable. I feel as if I’ve aged fifteen years in one year, and that my body isn’t my own. I have giant teats filled with milk; a mommy belly that remains poochy and soft; as well as tender lady parts that sometimes still ache from the aftermath of labor. But who am I kidding? I also ache because I’m around Christian all the time now. His dark, domineering form is in the apartment more often than not because as CEO, he’s decided to work from home. He takes calls from an office at the end of the hall, his baritone commanding and forceful. Then, he comes outside and bounces our baby boy in his lap, laughing along with our child in his deep voice.
The sight makes me melt inside because Christian was meant to be a father. The way he looks at Blaze makes my heart soften, and our child looks just like his daddy too, with the same dark hair and bright blue eyes. Even Blaze’s toothless smile resembles his father, with the same dimple in his right cheek and mirthful belly laughs.
But now, we need to figure this out. Us . The prospect makes my soul quiver because is there even an ‘us’? Is there a path forward for me and Christian that goes beyond impersonal co-parenting? I can accept it if that’s all there is, but inside, I yearn . I miss his big hands. I miss that huge chest, the perfect pillow when I’m tired or upset. I miss hearing his baritone, at once soothing and calm, but also deep with promise, anger, or lust. Christian Degas is the real deal, and my heart swoops and falls as we walk to the car from my mother’s grave. Does he feel it too?
Swallowing hard, I force myself to speak. I’ve done so many things wrong, and I need to tell him, in plain English, of my regrets.
“I’m sorry for the way things turned out, Christian,” I say in a low voice, staring at my toes as we walk. “This isn’t what I thought would happen.”
He nods, looking straight ahead as he carries Blaze in his strong arms. Terror reigns in my heart again. Will the alpha male forgive me, or will I always be on his shit list, only tolerated because I’m the mother of his child? I know I deserve to be excoriated and to my horror, tears prick my eyes once more. I dash them away, angry at myself for being such a mess all the time. Why can’t I get it together, and come off as a cool, competent, and sophisticated woman? I guess I’ll always be a blubbering fool, at least where this man is concerned.
Even worse, Christian doesn’t say anything immediately. We reach the car, and he pops open the back door before placing our sleeping child in the car seat. Then he takes his damn time buckling Blazey in, and covering our child’s sleeping form with a soft blanket before shutting the door and turning to me. To my surprise, his expression isn’t angry or accusatory. Instead, it’s soft. Or at least as soft as a man so hard can be.
“I know, Emily,” he says in a deep voice. “None of this turned out the way we thought it would. But it’s okay now. We have our child, and he’s safe and loved by both parents. We made it out fine.”
Still, tears tremble on my lashes.
“Yes, I know,” I say in a small voice, staring at a crack in the sidewalk. “Thank you for everything. It’s just that—” My breath catches and I can’t speak because my heart is pounding so hard. Nerves make my knees weak and I don’t know if I can say it. I don’t know if I can declare my love for this man when I’ve treated him so abominably. He has every right to hate me, and the tears begin to flow again.
But Christian is patient.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks in a low tone. “Tell me. You should never be afraid to tell me anything.”
“I’ve just been a terrible person,” I manage between gritted teeth as I continue to stare at the pavement. “I kept your son from you. I never told you that I survived the fire, and then I ended up breaking my mother’s heart. I ruined an idyll in the woods because I was a coward, and afraid, and—”
“And you were very young,” Christian interrupts, his blue eyes so intense they’re almost black. “You’re still young, Emily. You have your whole life in front of you.”
His words make me burst into sobs because they sound so final. It seems as if he’s ready to talk about the next phase of my life, which does not include him. I bury my face in my hands, unable to stomach the thought.
“No, but that’s the problem,” I cry. “I love you Christian, and I messed up because I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought you wouldn’t want the baby, and then with your divorce from my mom, I wanted to protect you and I wanted to protect her too, but look how it all turned out! I messed everything up and it’s all my fault!”
Strong arms wrap around me then, pulling me against a hard chest. I blubber against his jacket, smearing snot everywhere as I cry my heart out. After what feels like an eternity of tears, I stop and push myself back a bit, wiping at my nose. There’s a wet stain on his fancy leather jacket which is probably saliva, phlegm, and other gross bodily fluids.
“I’m sorry, Christian,” I blubber again. “Can you forgive me? I promise—”
But my words are cut off by his kiss. His mouth lands hard on mine as he grips my small chin with those blunt fingers, angling my lips to his liking. Unbidden, my mouth parts and he growls low in his chest as his tongue moves in to swipe against mine, reminding me of his possession. My curvy form sags against his big one with relief, those strong arms catching me by the waist as my breasts press against his chest, sheltered by his massive frame.
“It’s fine, baby girl,” he intones in a low voice, his chest rumbling as he speaks. He’s so big and strong that I feel shielded from the winds. “You don’t need to apologize because I love you too, and you never need to apologize for anything. I can feel your sincerity and that’s what I adore about you Emily. You give one hundred percent to the people you love, leaving your vulnerable soul pure and bare. I’ve never met a better woman.”
I cry again, pressing my cheek against his hard shoulder.
“But I’ve messed up so much!” are my tearful words. “My mom basically died because of me, and never met her grandson. And you missed the first year of Blaze’s life because I was so mixed up and confused and—”
“Shhh,” Christian murmurs against my hair before pressing another tender kiss to my lips. “It’s fine, Emily. Everyone makes mistakes in life because no one’s perfect. Don’t get me wrong because I had a fucking miserable two years, thinking you were dead,” he says in a rough tone, “but you’re alive now and that’s what I need. You are the mother of my child, and the keeper of my heart. You made me feel things that I’ve never felt in my life, sweetheart, and our time in the cabin was magical. I never wanted it to end, and I had every intention of taking you back with me to Vegas even then. I’m sorry if I was unclear about that.”
I look up into his crystal blue eyes, his words the healing balm that my heart needs to knit itself together again after so much trauma.
“No, it’s fine,” I whisper, running my fingers through the stubble on his jaw. “I think the fire made us all a little crazy. But it’s past now, and I love you, Christian Degas. I adore how you protect and care for us, and how you go out of your way to make me feel safe and loved. Thank you.”
“I love you too, Emily,” the alpha male rasps, his blue eyes burning with passion as those big hands wander over my soft curves. “Now, enough with the talking, and let me kiss you, baby. I’ve needed this for a long time.”
With that, our lips meet. I melt into the powerful alpha male’s arms, reveling in the tenderness of his embrace and the promise of our future together. Christian Degas has always been a billionaire to the world ... but to me, he’ll always be my mountain man.