Lark
Six Months Later
A laugh escaped her before tears filled her eyes.
She pressed both hands against the edge of the sink, trying to steady herself.
Six months ago, she'd been running for her life.
Six months ago, she'd believed she'd never know what freedom felt like.
Now, there was a baby on the way—their baby.
Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach.
"I’ll only have you to myself for just a few more minutes," she whispered.
"So I guess I should say hello." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, but they were happy ones.
She'd spent so much of her life wondering if the darkness inside the Santos’ name would somehow live inside her.
What if she became her father? What if she were incapable of giving a child the love they deserved? What if...
She quickly wiped her face. "I'm fine!"
"Lark,” he called again.
She groaned. "I really need to stop saying that because they never believe me." The bathroom door opened slowly. Dante stepped inside first, his expression instantly changing when he saw her crying.
"What happened?" he asked. He crossed the room in three quick strides. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Lark.” Her name sounded like a warning coming from her big, growly man.
"I don't know how to tell you,” she whispered.
Fear flashed across his face. "You can tell me anything."
Another voice drifted in from the hallway. "If she's crying, I'm coming in,” Rocco said. He stepped into the bathroom carrying two coffee mugs, and with one look at Lark's face, he immediately set them aside. "Talk to us."
She looked between her two men. They were the two people who had taught her that love wasn't about ownership. They showed her that family wasn't built by blood alone and that freedom and commitment could exist together.
She took a shaky breath. "I've been scared all morning."
Dante gently cupped her face. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out."
"Together," Rocco added. Together—always together.
Lark smiled through fresh tears. "I know." She reached behind her back and picked up the pregnancy test and then silently placed it into Dante's hand. He frowned, looked down, and his eyes widened. He looked at Lark and back at the test.
"Lark.” His voice cracked.
She turned toward Rocco. He leaned over Dante's shoulder, and for one heartbeat, neither man moved. Rocco let out a startled laugh. "No way."
Dante looked like someone had stolen every word he'd ever known. "You—” He swallowed hard. "We're?—"
Lark nodded. "We’re pregnant."
Dante started laughing, not because it was funny, but because he was so overwhelmed he couldn't seem to do anything else. He dropped to his knees in front of her, and carefully, he rested one trembling hand against her stomach.
"There really is a baby in there?" Dante asked.
She laughed through her tears. "So the test says."
Rocco knelt beside him; his own eyes glistened. "I've imagined this moment a hundred different ways."
Lark blinked. "You have?"
He smiled sheepishly. "I never thought I'd get a family."
“Me neither,” Dante whispered. He reached over and clasped Rocco's shoulder. Neither man said a word, but they didn't have to. Years of loneliness had ended in one tiny heartbeat they couldn't even hear yet.
Later that afternoon, the three of them sat on the back deck overlooking the lake. Lark rested comfortably between them while the evening breeze danced across the water. "I've been worried," she admitted quietly.
Dante looked down at her. "About what?"
"What if I'm like my father?" The words hung in the air.
Rocco immediately reached for her hand. "Lark."
"I mean it." She looked toward the lake. "He loved in such a terrible way." She swallowed. "What if that's all I know?"
Dante gently turned her face toward his. "Look at me." She did. "You've already broken that cycle."
"How?" she asked.
"You’re worried about becoming him. That tells me that you’ll never be anything like him,” Dante said.
She frowned. "My father never once wondered whether he was hurting someone."
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You already care enough to be afraid of becoming him."
Rocco nodded. "Our child will never wonder whether they're loved."
"How can you know that?" she asked.
"Because they'll have three parents who choose each other every single day,” Rocco said. The knot inside her chest finally loosened. Maybe they were right, and she was worried for nothing, but they were right about one thing for sure—their baby wouldn’t doubt that he or she was loved beyond measure.