Chapter 66
Rafe
One week later
“How long you back this time for?” I keep my face passive; I don’t want him knowing his comings and goings affect me more than they do. My brother is my only company right now, and him surprising me this morning was something I really fucking needed.
“Few weeks.”
“Where to this time?”
“Well, I’m taking some leave.” He’s extra smiley this morning, his body buzzing, and I don’t know if it’s from seeing me, or adrenaline from all the fighting he’s been doing the last four months.
I raise a brow, needing more clarification.
“May take some time to visit an old… friend.”
“A woman you mean?” I don’t miss the slight blush on his lifted cheeks. “Aurelia?”
His smile drops. “How…”
I wave him off. “Ava mentioned her name a while back. Assumed you’d tell me when you’re ready.”
He bobs his head, chewing his bottom lip. I shuffle some papers on my desk before checking my pocket watch. In a few minutes the paperboy will be doing his rounds.
“You’ll tell me about her right? One day?”
He bobs his head again, his eyes dissociating into some dream world, his lips quirk in what I think is a hopeful smile. “One day.”
I smack his shoulder and ruffle his brown hair, a move he’s quick to bat off. “Want anything?”
“Nah,” he says, patting his abs. “Need to lay off if I’m to impress a lady.”
“You’re fat shaming me.”
He barks a hearty laugh. “Just get your damn tart, Rafe.”
I huff, yanking open the door. Yeah, I will get my fucking strawberry tart. Ain’t no harm in eating one’s feelings.
The early morning sun blasts my face, too warm and too bright for this time of the morning.
I close the door behind me. Sun’s out, air’s clean, streets half-full.
Usual chatter, boots on stone, the whisper of leaves of the trees dotted around the street, and the tell-tale sign of the rustling papers in the boy’s sack.
I see the rolled-up paper flying toward me in my periphery, catching it with one hand and swiping him over the head as he skips by. His chuckle pulls out one of my own. I make for the café, same as every damn day because routine’s the only thing kept me sane lately.
Boots hit the same cracks in the cobblestone road, same arm clenches the paper as it does every day, yet today there’s a prickle to my skin.
I look up—and stop. My heart halts. My breaths snag.
Feet root themselves to the spot in where I stand.
Because the brightest sun of all has just blinded me to near implosion.
“Lina.”
Her smile knocks any remaining air out of my lungs. She stands there, in a stunning yellow dress, real. Alive.
She stands there. Lina. Stands. There.
“Hello, Rafe.”
Everything around me shifts, like the ground tilts a few degrees and forgets to shift back. I almost fall to my knees, instead I stumble forward.
My name, her voice.
Her fucking voice! I stop breathing. Her soft, delicate tone roots me in place and rips me wide open. Five months. Five fucking months my world has spun without her. Five months I’ve lived like a man buried breathing, choking on dirt.
How? How is this possible?
She takes a step toward my frozen form, a mere metre apart and she’s there. She’s here.
She pokes out her tongue, her tongue! The act so innocent and childlike, the sparkle in her eyes dazzling.
I laugh, loud and sharp and hearty like it’s being torn from my ribs. I tip my head back and it flies into the sky like it might carry my joy all the way to the gods.
I move before I think. My hand wraps over her throat, firm and reverent, her pulse beneath my fingers.
I drag her in and kiss her hard. Crash my mouth to hers and give her a kiss from a man losing his mind in relief.
A kiss from a man who’s tasted nothing but ash since she left.
Her lips move against mine, and my hand tangles in her hair as her nails dig into the back of my neck.
Close. I need her close.
She whimpers against me, and I lap it up and swallow it down. Our tongues caress each other, getting acquainted. The world spins around us, the street and its folk disappear. Time dies, and all that’s left is this kiss, this moment, her.
Us.
Our kiss isn’t soft, nor gentle. It’s five months of silence and rage and ache. It’s her name whispered into the dirt, drunk and grieving. It’s every night I reached across cold sheets. I kiss her like a starving man sinking his teeth into his first meal.
She came back. And she spoke my name.
“How?” I choke, and we both pull back, drawing in a shuddered breath, our faces nuzzle each other. Breathing each other in, and in this moment, all I feel is peace. And relief. So much fucking relief my body tingles.
“I found a way to choose us both.”
My Lina is remarkable. She came back to me. She didn’t erase me. She found a way to choose herself and me.
She chose us both.
A familiar figure comes into focus across the street.
Folk bustle, minding their own business and pay him no mind. At least today he has some clothes on. His arm lifts and a beautiful woman pops up beside him, snuggling into his chest, both watching with big beaming smiles.
‘Told you.’ He mouths. ‘Heartsick.’
Yeah, Rafe, I get it now. We’re certainly heartsick over this woman.
I chuckle and Lina pulls back, her stormy eyes alight with wonder. I point over her shoulder, my chin jerks for her to follow my gaze. She turns and I bring her into my side too.
Her gasp is loud as she takes in the beautiful image that stole my attention, and my heart, moments ago.
Us. Me and her. Our future selves smiling back at us.
Lina hasn’t noticed it yet, and I wait a moment to see if she does. She gasps again. “My breasts, they’re huge!” And glorious.
Fuck her voice stirs something deep in my chest, my gut, my groin.
Though she still hasn’t truly noticed what I have.
My lips brush her ear; I don’t miss her shudder.
“If you look below her breasts, you’ll figure out the reason why.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her face falls, then her hand comes up to cover her mouth, her eyes glossy. It chokes me too.
Future Rafe and Lina laugh as he runs a protective hand over her swollen stomach. A good seven months I’d say.
I press a kiss into Lina’s hair, sucking in the scent of wildflower and bergamot. She looks so damn beautiful pregnant.
Rafe leans down, disappearing from view, the crowded street hides his sturdy form until he straightens back up… with a little girl in a lilac dress hiked up on his hip.
Fuck. Both me and Lina gasp.
A daughter.
We laugh when the beautiful little girl, with her daddy’s dark hair and her mother’s stunning eyes frantically waves at us. We both wave back. The lump in my throat grows harder, my own eyes sting with unshed tears. We see you, baby girl. We see you.
I nod at Rafe. He nods back.
Lina watches me, her glassy eyes hold so much joy and love, and my lips find hers, my hand cradling her cheek.
Heartsick.
I chuckle to myself, gathering Lina and turn us in the direction of my office, seeing Sam lean up against the door, arms folded across his chest with a beaming smile of knowing on his lips.
Lina halts and I look down, noting her attention pulled up the street to a woman with black curly hair. She lets out a chuckle mixed with a soft sob.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
The woman smiles back, understanding her words despite not being close enough to hear them. The woman, mature but beautiful with an aura screaming of good-nature and safety raises her fingers to her lips, pressing a kiss before turning her palm, sending that metaphoric kiss to Lina.
Or maybe for the both of us as we both stutter a breath at the same time we see the pattern.
“She’s our Anchor,” Lina chokes. I look back, just to be sure, and sure enough a constellation marks her palm. I’ve never met this woman, but I’d like to, and maybe one day I will.
She nods at us, fixes her olive-green shawl around her shoulders and walks away.
I spin Lina and rest my forehead on hers, my hands snaking around her waist to hold her close and breathe in the scent I’ve been deprived of.
“You wanna tell me about her?”
“Later,” she smiles.
We let the world around us carry on by as we spend seconds, minutes, hours just floating in each other’s orbit, neither of us wanting to move from this moment. My hearts so godsdamned full.
“How old you think the little girl was?”
I blow out a breath. Her voice is the most beautiful sound in the realm; I’ll never get enough of it. And children, we’re to have children.
“Five, six maybe?”
“And how old do you think they were?”
I see where she’s going with this, trying to do the math to determine when she’ll become pregnant with our daughter. “Truthfully, I’ve no idea.”
She squeals when I swoop her up in my arms, cradling her to my chest. “However, I certainly recommend practicing the art. Right. Now.”
Her giggles sing to my soul as my hasty steps bring us in my office, through my portal and into my cabin in Eklin.
This.
Her, me, them.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And it’s here, finally in front of me. Ready for me to love, to protect, to nurture.