48. Jude
JUDE
“I’m sorry it took so long. But you’re free now.”
Slade squeezes my hand, as Mal takes the lid off the urn and tips it. Fine dust spills out into the waiting breeze and is swept away, disappearing within moments.
Sinclair sniffs and wipes her eyes, leaning into Denver’s side. Sullivan and Sterling stand together at Mal’s side, Sterling with his hand on Mal’s shoulder as he stares out over the railings of the boat at the ocean.
It was Mal’s idea that we do this. The headstone at Slade’s grave in New York was removed when the body was exhumed. Sterling made arrangements for the body of the crew member to be cremated. And when we flew over for the wedding, he came with us, strapped into his own seat on the plane.
We still don’t know much about him, only that he asked to be paid in cash for the couple of days he was going to help on Sterling’s yacht.
Whoever he was, he didn’t want anyone to know.
Maybe he was hiding from something. Or maybe he was just feeling lost. Slade said something about not all lost souls being helped.
But I don’t like to think of him as a lost soul.
I like to think of him as an explorer. One who just chose to travel alone.
“God rest your soul,” Mal whispers.
Sterling squeezes his shoulder, and I let go of Slade’s hand, nodding at him. He goes to stand with his uncle, brother, and father, and I give Sinclair a small smile as I pass her and Denver, leaving them all to have this moment together.
Tate and Halliday are further back on the deck of the yacht, watching from a distance with Molly and Mattison. Tate pats the sofa, and I sink into it beside her.
“They needed this. They all did,” Tate says.
“They really did,” Halliday agrees, cradling a sleepy Mattison.
“I know,” I say.
Sterling says something that has them all looking at him. Slade glances at me, then back at his father.
“He’s telling them that he sold the house,” Halliday says, her eyes glued to Sterling.
“The beach house?” Tate frowns.
Halliday nods. “He kept it all these years because he felt like he’d be letting Slade go if he didn’t. But now he wants to move on. He needs to.”
“I understand that,” I murmur, looking back toward the shore.
I know Slade will visit Nandi, and he wants to see Declan. He’s already asked him to come and stay with us in New York. But I don’t think he will be wanting to come back to South Africa much, at least, not for a long time. Those memories are still too raw right now.
“Maybe Sterling will buy another one, someplace new,” Tate says.
“Or he’ll find a new place to keep this yacht,” Halliday says.
We whip our heads toward her.
“I thought he hired this,” I say.
Halliday smiles. “No, he bought it. He said he’s ready to get back out on the water again. He’s going to have it taken to The Bahamas. Molly wants to see the swimming pigs there.”
“They’re in the ocean!” Molly pipes up from where she’s coloring at the low table beside us.
“Wow, clever pigs,” I say, making her grin.
Trudy comes out from inside the cabin. “I’ve got drinks ready. Shall I bring them out?”
“Thanks, darling. I’ll help,” Mal says, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her. She holds him tight, rubbing his back, and the two of them go inside together.
“He’s doing okay,” Sterling says, walking over with the others. “We had a call from the authorities yesterday. I didn’t want to bring it up on your wedding days, but they’ve said it’s unlikely he’ll serve time. There’s talk of charging him with arson and giving him a suspended sentence.”
“Okay,” Sinclair says, looking at Sterling with wide eyes. “So we just keep doing what we’re doing, being there for one another.”
“Yes. We stick together.” Sterling sighs, his eyes softening as Mattison gives up trying to sleep and gazes at him with big blue eyes.
“Are you looking at your handsome daddy, little gift?” Halliday coos.
I smile at the meaning of Mattison’s name. Gift, just like Halliday said. She hands the baby to Sterling and slips her arm around his waist as they head inside after Trudy and Mal.
“We’ve got a Molly and a Mattison. Looks like we’ve moved on from S and going for M now.” Tate twists her lips in thought. “How about Melody?” she asks Sullivan.
He coughs with surprise, his brow creasing. But as his eyes meet hers, they heat enough to make me feel like I’m intruding on a private moment.
“You want a baby?” he asks Tate.
Tate looks shocked for a moment, like she’s just realized what she’s said, then stands and walks over to him, her expression growing thoughtful.
“I mean… yes, I would actually. We could do all the night feeds together. You wouldn’t be doing it by yourself this time.
And Molly will be an amazing help. She loves babies. ”
A muscle in Sullivan’s cheek clenches, and he stares at Tate intently. The only crack in his armor is a slight pinch at the corners of his eyes, as if he’s trying to remain stoic but is melting inside.
“She does,” he says finally, a look passing between him and Tate that has a small smile tilting his lips.
“So we have to go with M now too?” Sinclair huffs, pretending to be annoyed. “Fine. Any ideas?” She looks at Denver with an arched brow.
“How about we make the baby first, Princess?” he says in a low voice.
“Why didn’t I think of that, Brute?” She rolls her eyes, before her mouth pops wide. “Wait! Oh my God… Halliday might have gotten Mattison out, but…” She looks Denver up and down. “You’re practically a mountain. It’ll be like being bred by the Hulk. My vagina will be wrecked.”
Sullivan pinches the bridge of his nose. “I wish I could unhear that.”
Sinclair peers at Denver, pouting. “You’ll still be crazily over-the-top-bringing-stalker-vibes in love with me, won’t you?”
“What do you think?” he grumbles, his expression turning tender.
Sinclair rises on her toes and kisses him.
“Hey, Sin?” Jenson calls, appearing with Killian.
“I thought you were below deck,” Sinclair says.
The two of them join us. “Nah, we were just up top, looking at the view.” Jenson lifts his brows, leaning toward Sinclair. “Heard what you said, and don’t worry, if that happens, we’ll have a spare sail for the boat if we need one.”
Sinclair jabs him in the ribs. “Eww, idiot!” She laughs. “And anyway, this yacht doesn’t have a sail.”
“A flag then.” Jenson snorts, jumping out of the way as she tries to hit him again.
Slade lowers himself into the seat beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
“Were they always like this?” I whisper as Jenson tries to pull Sullivan into agreeing with him and Sullivan grumbles ‘fuck off’ back.
“Worse.” Slade smirks. “You’ve not seen half of what being around my family can be like yet.”
I press my lips together, trying not to laugh as Jenson flails his hands around, imitating something that makes Sinclair screech with laughter and order Killian to toss him overboard.
“Do we also have to name our baby with an M?”
Everyone falls silent at the exact moment I say it, and my question hangs in the air for them to hear.
Sinclair’s eyes widen and she grins.
I shake my head. “There is no baby… yet,” I say, glancing at Slade. “I was thinking out loud.”
“Yet,” Slade echoes, looking at me in a way that makes my stomach flutter.
“We could all be pregnant together!” Sinclair says, clapping.
Sullivan’s gaze whips to Slade’s, then Denver’s, and he tugs at his collar, his face paling.
“Fuck, imagine all those pregnancy hormones. You guys will be in for it,” Jenson says, saying what the men are thinking out loud. “One of you might need to fake your own death to get some peace.”
Sinclair gasps, and everyone turns to him.
He throws his hands up and winces. “Too soon?”
“Complete fucking idiot,” Killian mutters, dragging a hand over his face.
Noise erupts again as disbelieving laughter breaks out, followed by a flurry of light-hearted insults hurled at Jenson.
“You’re right,” I tell Slade. “They’re all crazy. Is it too late to back out of this marriage? I’m thinking marrying into your family is a risk to my sanity.”
“Huge damn risk.” He smirks, pulling my mouth to his. “But you’re not getting out of anything. You’re mine now, Mrs. Beaufort.”
“So I have to live with my choice. With this risk?” I tease, kissing him back.
“Yeah, you do. Just like I do.”
“What was yours?”
“You know what it was. Biggest risk I ever took was not saying no to you that first time in the dark.”
“Don’t you mean the best thing you ever did? Because look what we have,” I breathe, resting my forehead against his and stroking his cheek.
He runs his thumb over my lower lip, watching it before lifting heavenly blue eyes to mine.
My heart stalls as he whispers, so honest and devoted I feel the words melt into me and stay, just like my name inked over his heart.
“You’re right,” he breathes. “Best risk I ever took.”