26. Futures Entwined #2
“I’ve lived with fear. Lucas taught me that danger doesn’t just come from strangers or criminals.
Sometimes the most dangerous person is the one sleeping beside you, the one who promised to love and protect you.
” Her voice holds no bitterness. “At least the dangers associated with you are ones I understand, ones you actively work to mitigate rather than create.”
Again, her perspective challenges mine. I’ve spent so long viewing my lifestyle as inherently incompatible with genuine connection that I never considered my honesty about dangers might be an improvement over the deception she experienced with Lucas.
“As for what people will think,” she shrugs, drawing my eye to the elegant line of her collarbone, “I spent years making myself smaller, quieter, less noticeable to avoid Lucas’s jealousy and criticism. I’m done living according to others’ judgments.”
She leans forward, green eyes intent on mine.
“I want my bakery. I want normal business hours and legitimate community connections. But I also want you, exactly as you are. If that means finding creative solutions, establishing boundaries between your world and mine, creating careful separations where necessary, then that’s what we’ll do. ”
The conviction in her voice, the clarity of her vision, humbles me. While I’ve been calculating risks and envisioning problems, she’s been considering practical solutions, realistic compromises, ways to build a bridge between our different worlds.
“What about living arrangements?” I ask, shifting to more concrete concerns. “My apartment is out for obvious reasons. Your old place with Lucas isn’t an option. Do we find something new together? Live separately for appearances? Split time between Columbus and here?”
“I’d like us to live together,” she says without hesitation. “A new place, one that belongs to both of us equally. Somewhere with enough space for privacy when needed, for both your work and my baking. Maybe outside city limits but close enough for work and your club obligations?”
The way she integrates both our needs into her vision is so easy. No demand that I abandon my responsibilities to Zeke, no expectation that she sacrifice her dreams for my convenience. Just compromise and mutual accommodation.
“We could keep the cabin for weekends and emergencies,” she adds thoughtfully. “A retreat when we need distance from Columbus.”
I nod. “That could work. I know some properties that might suit us—secluded enough for security, close enough for convenience.”
The conversation flows into details—financial arrangements, timeline for her bakery plans, practical logistics of combining our lives.
Her questions reveal intelligence alongside emotional investment—concerns about maintaining financial independence despite our shared living, ideas for establishing her business without relying solely on my resources, thoughts about gradual integration of our separate worlds.
As we talk, Powder stretches and relocates to a patch of moonlight on the windowsill, apparently bored with our human planning. Her casual disinterest makes me smile despite the serious topics we’re addressing. Some things remain simple.
The conversation eventually progresses to more intimate territory—family planning.
“What about children?” I ask, watching her expression closely.
I raise the question carefully, aware that my age makes children unlikely but unwilling to assume her preference.
“I know my age makes this complicated, but if it’s something you want then we need to consider all angles. ”
Naomi hesitates, her gaze dropping to her hands. When she looks up again, her expression is certain. “I don’t want children,” she says simply. “That’s not a reaction to current circumstances or compromise for your sake. It’s a decision I made long before meeting Lucas, before any of this happened.”
She pauses for a moment before she continues with quiet confidence. “I’ve never felt that maternal pull some women describe. I enjoy children in limited doses—like Lydia’s girls or Eve’s nephew—but I’ve never imagined myself as a mother.”
It’s another reason we’re compatible. Though I once imagined a family with Sandra, those dreams died long before our marriage ended. After witnessing the damage fathers can inflict despite their best intentions, the thought of risking another child seemed irresponsible.
“That works for me,” I say, relieved. “I tried fatherhood once. The results speak for themselves.”
Naomi shakes her head, placing her hand over my heart again. “Lucas wasn’t your failure. You didn’t create his cruelty.”
“Maybe not,” I acknowledge, “but I couldn’t prevent it either. Couldn’t protect you from him.”
“But you did,” she says softly. “When it mattered most, you chose to protect me instead of him. You helped me survive the aftermath. You gave me space to heal.”
Her forgiveness, her refusal to blame me for Lucas’s actions, touches something deep within me—a wound I hadn’t realized still bled until she came into my life. This woman, who suffered directly from my son’s cruelty, offers absolution.
I reach for her, drawing her closer, my hands framing her face with reverent care. “How did I find you?”
Her smile holds both sadness and joy, acknowledging the terrible circumstances that brought us together while affirming the unexpected gift those circumstances gave us.
“Just lucky, I guess,” she whispers, leaning forward to press her lips gently against mine.
The kiss begins softly, tenderly, but quickly deepens as emotional intensity translates into physical desire.
My hands slide into her hair, cradling her head as I explore the warmth of her mouth.
Her smaller hands press against my chest, fingers splayed as if trying to touch as much of me as possible.
When we break apart, both breathless, desire darkens in her eyes, matching the heat building within me. But this feels different from our earlier passionate encounter—no less intense, but infused with newfound significance after our declarations and discussions.
“I want you,” she says simply, honestly.
The directness of her statement, the open vulnerability in her expression, strikes me deeply.
“You have me,” I promise. “All of me.”
No words have ever been truer. There isn’t anything I’d do for this woman. She owns all of me. And I plan to spend the rest of my life showing her just how much I love her.