Chapter 23 #2
I stroke the back of his neck, keeping him close as I search his eyes. ‘Do you remember what I told you that night?’
‘That I could have as much of you as I wanted,’ he recounts, like he’s never forgotten a word that’s come out of my mouth.
‘I meant it then, and I mean it now.’ My heart pounds so hard that I swear it’s going to leap out of my chest. ‘You can have all of me.’
I feel something roll through him, like a rumble of thunder across heavy summer air. ‘Say you’re mine, Ava. Tell me you want this to be more.’
More. It’s exactly what I decided I needed, whatever more entailed. But now I know it’s this. It’s us. Truly together.
‘I’m yours.’
Zaid exhales, the last of the tension in his body slipping away as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to mine. ‘You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.’
‘I’m sorry I made us wait,’ I whisper, watching his eyes slowly reopen. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t take that step back then.’
‘I told you before, never apologize for asking for what you need.’ He kisses me softly to ease the gentle burn of the scolding.
When he pulls back again, it’s to look me hard in the eyes, determined to make me believe what he’s saying.
‘You were right that we needed to focus on the baby and settling into our new futures before anything else happened. We needed that time to really see what was on the road ahead of us. And I don’t regret a second of it, because being with you in any form is a privilege.
’ His hand on my cheek moves to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, fingertips lingering on my jaw.
‘I love you, Ava. I may not have said it before, but I hope that’s not a surprise. I hope I’ve done enough to show you.’
He has. And I hope I’ve done the same. ‘I love you too,’ I whisper. The words have been sitting on the tip of my tongue all day. ‘God, Zaid, it took everything in me not to tell you before you went out on-track today. I can’t ever let you do that again without being sure you know how I feel.’
I’m suddenly hot all over from the confession, but there’s no sense in keeping it in. I love this man, and I love every gift he’s given me, including the one currently doing flips in my belly as if she knows exactly what I’ve done.
‘I knew you were it for me the second you dragged me to that horrible pub and lied about being good at darts,’ Zaid says with no hesitation. If anything, it’s relief I hear in his voice, like he’s finally free to let this out after holding himself back. ‘How could I not love you after that?’
A laugh bubbles out of me even as my eyes start to sting with happy tears. ‘I don’t know, a lot of people might have added me to their list of mortal enemies after that.’
‘Not me. Never me.’ He wipes away my tears one by one. ‘You helped me see that my life doesn’t have to start and end with racing.’
‘I think you already knew that, Mr. Gallery Owner Humanitarian Oscar Winner.’
Zaid grins at my joke, dark eyes alight.
‘Maybe. But you also made me feel like the rest of the world couldn’t touch me for once in my life.
’ The arm he has around my waist tightens as he pulls me closer again.
‘You make me feel that way every time we’re together.
Like my world is just you – and her.’ His hand skates around until he’s palming my belly. ‘That’s all I want.’
It’s all I want too, and this is the moment I’ll cling to when the world comes to claim him again.
Tonight, though, it’s just us. Me and him and our baby. And it’s all I’ll ever need.
——
There’s an empty space next to me in bed when I wake in the morning.
Despite having separate bedrooms in this house, I’ve gotten so used to sleeping beside Zaid in his motorhome for the past three weeks that I couldn’t bring myself to sleep alone last night.
Even better, I no longer had to resist the urge to cuddle up to him when I got cold or move away upon waking up to discover we were tangled together – it’s all fair game now.
But bless Zaid for having the willpower to pull away from our kisses before things could get too heated, gently reminding me of why we couldn’t take things further.
Even when I slyly reminded him in return that it was only me who had to be careful, that there were plenty of things I could still do for him, he kissed my neck and murmured, ‘Until you get to come, I don’t either. ’
I smile to myself, pressing my face into the pillow to keep it from growing wider, then force myself to get up.
The scent of coffee brewing floats through the hall as I head back to my bedroom to shower and dress, and I find a steaming mug waiting for me on the kitchen counter when I finally emerge. There’s no Zaid to be found, though.
Cupping the mug in my hands, I shuffle out to the living room and spot him in one of the armchairs by the windows.
It’s an uncharacteristically sunny morning for London, yesterday’s storms a thing of the past, and the rays stream in to halo him in light.
He’s dressed only in loose cotton pajama bottoms, chest bare and all too inviting, but it’s the sketchbook in his lap that catches my attention.
‘Come here,’ he says, not looking up from where he’s sweeping a pencil across the page. ‘I want to show you something.’
I pad over and perch on the wide arm of the chair, trying to steal a glance at what he’s drawing as I sip my coffee. ‘Whatcha got there?’
‘I sketched a mural for the nursery.’
He turns the sketch pad toward me, and then I’m looking at the vision board I had tacked on the wall in the nursery at my house brought to life.
There are bunnies and squirrels and adorable little mice skittering across a forest floor, friendly-faced owls hooting down at them from old oak trees, and sly foxes rolling merrily on their backs.
There are notes about color choices scrawled in the corner of the page and questions to himself as to what else to add, including More birds?
?? and Ask Ava her opinion on mushrooms – ugly or nice?
My throat immediately goes tight. I didn’t realize he’d even noticed my collection of photos and paint swatches, let alone paid enough attention to meld them into the perfect illustration. It’s everything I could have wanted and more.
‘Zaid,’ I sniffle-whine, looking up at the ceiling to keep my tears from dropping onto the page.
‘Why are you so obsessed with making me cry?’ When I’m certain I won’t ruin his masterpiece, I look back down at him, though the soft smile I’m met with only makes me cry harder. ‘It’s perfect and you’re the worst.’
‘I know,’ he soothes, fighting a laugh as he rubs my back. ‘I’ll start on it when we get back to Monaco. I figure that’s the nursery where we’ll be spending most of our time with her.’
I swipe at my cheeks as his attention drops to my bump, mostly hidden under one of his Mascort T-shirts.
‘She’s going to end up having, like, three nurseries,’ I point out once I can speak again.
‘One at my house for right after she’s born and while you’re racing in the Americas.
One here for when we visit our families.
And then one in Monaco. You up for drawing three murals? ’
‘Whatever you want, princess.’ He nudges me off the chair’s arm and down into his lap, holding me tight with his hand splayed across my bump.
‘I was thinking about incorporating her name somewhere in the design, so it’s probably time we get serious about picking one.
I’m going to take a wild guess that you’ve been brainstorming baby names for most of your life. ’
‘I may have six different lists based on how many syllables each name has and a separate list for all the possible middle name pairings.’
‘Of course you do,’ he says fondly, outright chuckling this time as he presses a kiss to my temple. ‘How about you give me your top ten and we can narrow it down?’
I make a sound of discontent at the perfectly reasonable idea.
‘Asking me to do the impossible,’ I jokingly grumble, nuzzling into his chest as I take another sip of my coffee, and it’s the highest level of bliss.
The man of my dreams is holding me and our baby, the child I’ve wished so hard for, making plans to paint her nursery without me having to lift a finger.
All I can do is invent things to be dismayed about, because everything is perfect.
Zaid sighs, and he sounds just as satisfied as I feel. ‘Our daughter’s going to end up with five different names, isn’t she?’
‘It’ll be no less than ten if you’re lucky.’
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’