Chapter Fifty-Five
Grace
Eventually, security is called and drags Nelson out. “So much for an apology,” I say. But his behavior isn’t surprising. He’s always considered himself better than anybody else. It’s a big deal that he dropped to his knees—and hands—even if he was forced to when Huxley kicked him from behind. His pride may never recover.
That alone makes me laugh softly.
“What’s funny?” Huxley says.
“Oh… Just thinking about how much his ego must be smarting.”
He chuckles. “It makes for a fun way to start lunch.”
“You bet.” I rest my head on his shoulder. I love how hard and strong his muscles are, how safe and protected he makes me feel. “Ready to go?”
“Not just yet.” He tucks a strand behind my ear, then strokes my cheek, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
“You can’t tell me over our meal?”
“This isn’t something I can share over chocolate cake.” The heavy solemnity in his eyes sends jitters through me.
If he were any other man, I might think he was breaking up with me. But this is Huxley. My husband. The man who tells me he loves me, calls me his and calls himself mine.
So I intentionally keep my voice light. “Ooh, chocolate cake for lunch?”
“It is your favorite. But I think you need this more.”
He leads me to his office, then closes the door. The big white urn Claude carried earlier sits on the coffee table. It’s plain with a clear glaze. Around it are photos and launch concepts for some products his agency is working on.
“What is it?” I ask. “Don’t tell me you bought me more jewelry.” Huxley’s been buying me too many sets recently. Per Grant, it’s Sebastian’s doing. Huxley claims it’s because every woman needs diamonds. Except he’s given me emeralds, rubies, pearls and sapphires as well.
“No. Why don’t you sit down?”
What’s going on? I take a seat, and he sits next to me. He holds my hand tenderly. “Nelson came to ask me to stop my family from trying to ruin him and his kids.”
“Are they really doing that?” I remember hearing about it, but didn’t keep up. I want to focus my energy on living my life, not trying to destroy people who’ve done me wrong. There isn’t enough time in the world for me to devote to the new family I’ve found I belong to. Huxley. Our baby. Emmett and Amy. Grant and Aspen. Griffin and Sierra. Sebastian and Lucie. Nicholas and Molly. Noah and Bobbi. Then there’s Jeremiah and Ted. Catalina. Prescott and Akiko. Ares, Josh, and Bryce. And Emma.
Since learning about my mother’s death, I’ve realized that I wasn’t letting myself see certain possibilities. I was so focused on my future with her, so convinced that I would have had no one without her, that I didn’t let the people around me in. And I didn’t think that they’d let me in, either.
“Oh yes. You fuck with one of us, and you will pay. That’s the family motto.”
“I thought it meant loyalty and unity.”
“Well, it’s in Latin, so it sounds cooler and more noble and all that. But basically, it’s ‘fuck with us and find out.’”
I laugh.
“Nelson knows that too, so he tried to make a deal with a bargaining chip I couldn’t refuse.”
“Which was what?”
Huxley squeezes my hand and holds my eyes. “He said that, although your mother was cremated, they never scattered the ashes. They kept them, most likely to use as a leverage for when you found out about her death. Karie and Vivienne might’ve thought they were smart enough to hide it forever, but Nelson knew you’d eventually discover the truth.”
“And…” My eyes flick to the urn.
Huxley nods. “Yeah.”
A breath sobs out of me. I cover my face as a cocktail of volatile emotion coalesces around my heart. “Thank you,” I croak through the hot lump in my throat.
“You’re welcome,” he says simply, his comforting hand stroking my back.
I go to the urn and hug it tightly. “Mom…” Tears well. The urn is cold to the touch, but being able to hold something physical that represents her somehow makes the raw pain of loss throb less. “I can’t believe I still have tears left.”
Huxley puts an arm around me, lending me his warmth and strength. “Don’t rush the process. Take all the time you need to grieve and heal.”
“Thank you,” I choke out. “I married the most wonderful man in the world.”
He gives me a grin. “You just figure that out?”
I laugh softly, tears still falling. “I feel like you were right when you told me we were fated to meet and fall in love.”
Tender affection replaces the humor on his face.
I take a moment to dry my cheeks. “You remember how you asked me about my vision for the future?”
“Yes. You want to take her to Montana?”
I shake my head. “No. That’s too far. I’d like for her to be able to see our children. Watch us be happy. Maybe some place really pretty with lots of flowers, not too far from us.”
“I know just the place,” Huxley says. “There’s a plot next to where Aspen’s grandparents are buried. It’s absolutely gorgeous out there. We can add more flowers, the ones your mother loved.”
I nod. “It sounds perfect. She would love that.” I run my hand over the urn, then take his hand and place it against the smooth surface. “Mom, this is my husband Huxley. He’s absolutely wonderful, and I love him so much. And he loves me too.”
He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
“We’re expecting a baby now, and I couldn’t be happier or more blessed. I have so many new brothers and sisters, too, and they’re amazing,” I say, starting to cry again. “I love you so much. I miss you even more. I wish we’d had more time to spend together, but Mom. Don’t worry about me, okay?” I rest my forehead against the urn. “I met the other half of my soul.”
And as I let out the rest of my tears, it seems like Mom’s voice whispers, I’m happy for you, dear.