38. Chapter 37
Chapter 37
R amiro stared at the computer screen, or at least pretended to. Summer had come into the room. She wore a dress with pink peonies printed on it. It was one of the looser dresses he’d ordered for her, with blossoms patterned right over her extended stomach. She wasn’t huge by any means, just obviously rounded, but the waistbands of her skirts had begun to bother her.
He loved the sight of her stomach. He wanted to sit her on the desk in front of him and press kisses all over it. His hands itched to do it, though the healing one itched all the time.
Her hair was loose and flowing, and her feet were bare. She’d kicked off her shoes beneath her desk again. He was addicted to her bare feet and the sounds she made when he pulled them into his lap on the couch to rub them at the end of the day.
Small touches. He fed himself through small touches every moment he could, needing to feel her, real and alive. She didn’t flinch anymore, her eyes warm when they met his and she leaned into his touch.
He opened his mouth, ready to ask her to come closer, but the phone rang.
Summer set the cup of coffee on his desk before scurrying out of his office. She’d left the door open. He preferred it that way. He’d even had the office rearranged so that he could see her sitting at her own desk through the doorway.
Summer smiled that secretary smile of hers as she reached for the phone.
“Rodriguez Security, this is Summer.”
She’d answered the phone, just that way, so many times in his memory. Summer had been the one to push for them to return to the office, and she’d blossomed more each day as things returned to the structure she craved.
His own phone beeped, and he picked up the receiver.
“I have Seb for you.”
“Wait,” he said, wanting another moment with her voice in his ear. Her eyes lifted to meet his, and her smile softened while her finger hovered over the transfer button.
“I love you,” he said, watching pink spread across her cheeks.
Her soft laugh filled him to overflowing before her finger pressed the button, and she put her phone in the cradle.
“You there?” Seb asked.
“Yeah.” Ramiro cleared his throat, his fingers tightening on the phone. “Did you find him?”
“Yes and no,” Seb said .
Ramiro frowned. “It can’t be both.”
“Ash is alive. Out of his mind, but alive.”
Ash had tried to rescue Summer when Ramiro couldn’t. It hadn’t worked, but the thought of Ash dying in his place, when Ramiro should have been the one throwing his life away for Summer, had taunted his mind. Eight weeks was too long to track Ash down.
“What do you mean, out of his mind?” Ramiro asked.
“He doesn’t want to be found. Was kind of pissed about it, actually.”
Ramiro didn’t know what that meant. “But he’s all right?”
“Mostly.”
Ramiro went to reply when Summer ran into the doorway, nerves dancing over her face.
“Diego called. It’s time.”
S ummer was quiet that night, lying in his arms. Ramiro snuggled her closer, stroking over her hair as her breath puffed against his neck.
Diego’s new son had seemed so tiny and delicate in his hands when he’d held him at the hospital. Nerves and panic took over from holding something that breakable.
When Summer held the newborn, Ramiro couldn’t stop staring. Awe and sadness filled her face, all mixed together. He imagined it was her daughter she held, and he’d wanted that image. He wanted to lock it in his mind and hold on to it forever.
His lips found the top of her head as his hand slid between them to rest over her nightgown, where her stomach distended. “What do you think about the name Bridget?”
Summer tensed against him before lifting her head, tears already sliding down her face. “Why did you do that? Why did you name her?”
His thumbs swiped along her cheeks as he held her face. “I want to keep the baby. She’s ours; she feels like ours.” More tears fell as he stared at her. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “You want that, don’t you?”
She let out a choked sob, squeezing her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t.”
His hands firmed. “Open your eyes, baby girl.”
Her eyelashes were damp as he stared into the swimming blue of her eyes.
“You want your daughter, don’t you?”
Her lips trembled. “Yes.” Another sob slid out of her. “Yes.”
He pulled her close again, the dampness of her tears soaking into his neck. Her hand slid down between them, cupping her stomach, and his settled over it.
“Then we’ll keep her, and we’ll call her Bridget unless you like something better.”
Her daughter kicked, and joy unlike anything he’d felt before filled him. “I think she likes the name,” he said, waiting to see if he’d feel that small motion again .
Summer let out a choked giggle, and Ramiro had never felt more content in his life.