Chapter 25 #2
"Both babies," Erin says, her eyes dropping to my stomach with sudden realization. "Oh my God, Rosie. You are pregnant too?"
I nod, my hand instinctively moving to my belly. "I found out yesterday. Same day I learned about Dolan. Same day Seamus's birth certificate arrived."
"Yesterday," Erin repeats, her voice hollow. "You found out you were pregnant and that your father was killed and that Dolan was dead, all in the span of two weeks?"
"It has been a rough twenty-four hours," I say with a weak attempt at humor.
Erin reaches out and takes my hand, our fingers interlacing the way they have since we were children.
"Our babies will grow up together," she says, and there is something fierce in her voice now, something determined.
"They will be cousins. Family. They will know each other and love each other the way we love each other. "
"Absolutely," I promise. "I will make sure of it."
She squeezes my hand tighter. "I am sorry I left you. I am sorry I ran away with Dolan and left you to deal with the wedding and Dante and all of this. If I had known—if I had any idea that things would turn out like this—"
"Stop," I interrupt gently but firmly. "You have nothing to apologize for. You fell in love. You wanted to be with the man you loved. That is not something to be sorry for."
"But it put you in danger. I forced you to take my place—"
"I chose to take your place," I remind her. "No one forced me. You asked, and I said yes, because I love you and I wanted you to be happy. And you know what? I am glad I did. Because marrying Dante turned out to be the best decision I ever made."
Dante's hand settles on my shoulder, warm and solid, and when I glance up at him, his expression is so full of love it makes my chest ache.
"I never expected this," I continue, looking back at Erin. "Never expected to fall in love with three men who would move heaven and earth to protect me. Never expected to build a family that is mine by choice rather than obligation. But it happened, and I would not change it even if I could."
Erin's eyes fill with fresh tears, but these are different—not grief, but something softer. Relief, maybe. Or gratitude. "You are happy."
"I am happy," I confirm. "Which means you do not get to feel guilty about running away with Dolan. You gave me a gift, even if you didn’t mean to."
She laughs—a small, broken sound, but a laugh nonetheless. "Only you would find the positive in being forced into an arranged marriage."
"It was not forced," I correct. "It was chosen. Just like everything else about my life now."
Gabriel appears with a blanket, draping it carefully over Erin's shoulders. "You should eat something," he says gently. "And probably let the doctor look at those bruises."
Erin touches her swollen eye gingerly, as if she had forgotten it was there. "Patrick hit me when I tried to run. After Dolan—" She swallows hard. "I tried to fight him, but there were too many guards."
Rage flashes through me, hot and violent. Patrick is already dead, but part of me wishes I could have been there to kill him. I would have done it slower this time. More painful. Just like the way he deserves.
"You fought," I say, focusing on that instead of the anger. "That is what matters. You did not just accept it. You fought back."
"I learned from the best," Erin says, managing a small smile. "You always taught me to fight."
"And you always taught me it was okay to care," I counter. "We balance each other out."
Dante helps us both to our feet, and Gabriel steadies Erin when she wobbles. Callahan stands more slowly, his joints creaking, but there is satisfaction in his expression.
"I should return to the compound," he says.
"Start consolidating power before anyone realizes Patrick is gone.
But Erin—" He pauses, looking at her with something like paternal affection.
"Your father loved you more than anything in this world.
He wanted you to be happy, safe, free to choose your own path.
If you want to go to Texas and raise chickens and never touch the mafia world again, he would have supported that.
I will make sure everyone knows you are under Salvatore protection and that anyone who harms you will answer to both the Irish and Italian families. "
"Thank you," Erin whispers. "For everything. For helping rescue me. For being loyal to Dad even after—"
"Seamus was my brother," Callahan says simply. "There was never a question of loyalty."
He shakes Dante's hand, nods to Gabriel, and then he is gone, slipping back into the night to claim control of the Irish mafia in Seamus's name.
The house suddenly feels quieter, emptier. Just the four of us in the foyer—me and Erin and Dante and Gabriel. Family, in all the ways that matter.
"Where is Luca?" I ask, suddenly realizing he is not here.
"Disposing of Patrick's body," Dante says matter-of-factly. "He will be back by morning."
Erin shivers under her blanket. "I should feel bad about that. About being glad someone is dead. But I don’t. I just feel—" She pauses, searching for the word. "Empty. Like all my emotions burned out and there is nothing left."
"That is shock," Gabriel says gently. "And grief. It will get easier with time."
"Will it?" Erin asks, and the vulnerability in her voice breaks my heart. "Because I don’t see how anything will ever feel normal again."
I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close. "It will not feel normal for a long time. But it will feel bearable. Eventually. And until then, you have me. You have us."
She leans her head on my shoulder, exhausted and broken but alive. "I don’t know what I would do without you, Rosie."
"Good thing you will never have to find out," I tell her. "Because I am not going anywhere."
Dante and Gabriel exchange a glance—some silent communication I cannot quite read—and then Dante speaks.
"Erin, you should stay here tonight. We have plenty of guest rooms, and the doctor is already here. Let him check you over, make sure you and the baby are okay. Then you can sleep in an actual bed with actual security and decide what you want to do in the morning."
Erin nods, too tired to argue. "Okay. Thank you."
Gabriel guides her toward the stairs, and I move to follow, but Dante catches my hand.
"Give them a moment," he says quietly. "Gabriel will take care of her. I need to talk to you."
I turn to face him, studying his face in the dim light of the foyer. He looks exhausted—not just physically tired, but emotionally wrung out. The weight of tonight's violence sits heavy on his shoulders.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"I should be asking you that question."
"I asked first."
He pulls me closer, his arms coming around me, and I melt into his embrace. For a moment, we just stand there, holding each other in the quiet house, letting the adrenaline finally drain away.
"Patrick is dead," Dante says into my hair. "Callahan has control of the Irish. Erin is safe. The threat is over."
"The threat is over," I repeat, testing the words. They feel too good to be true, like something that will be snatched away if I believe it too completely.
"You can breathe now," Dante murmurs. "You can stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. It is done, Flower. You are safe. Erin is safe. Our baby is safe."
Our baby. The words make my throat tight.
"I was so scared," I admit. "When I woke up and you were gone, and the guards told me you went after Patrick—I was terrified something would happen to you. That I would lose you the same way Erin lost Dolan."
"You will not lose me," Dante says fiercely, pulling back to look at me. "I’m not going anywhere. None of us are. We are in this together, remember? All of us. Forever."
"Forever," I echo, and this time I let myself believe it.
He kisses me then—soft and sweet and full of promise. When we break apart, I am crying, but these are good tears. Relief tears. Happy tears.
"Come on," Dante says, taking my hand. "Let us get you back to bed. You are supposed to be resting, remember?"
"I want to check on Erin first."
"Gabriel has her. She is in good hands."
"Dante—"
"Rosalina." He stops, turns to face me fully, his hands cupping my face. "She is safe. She is here. And she will still be here in the morning. Right now, I need you to take care of yourself and our baby. Let Gabriel take care of Erin. That is what he is good at."
He is right. I know he is right. But it is so hard to let go, to stop being Erin's protector even for a few hours.
"She is not your responsibility anymore," Dante says gently, reading my mind.
"She is her own person, capable of making her own choices.
And right now, she needs rest and medical attention, both of which Gabriel is ensuring she gets.
What she does not need is you collapsing from exhaustion because you would not take care of yourself. "
"When did you get so wise?" I ask.
"I have always been wise. You were just too stubborn to notice."
I laugh despite everything, and it feels good. Normal. Like maybe things really will be okay.
Dante leads me upstairs, and I don’t protest when he tucks me back into bed. The doctor comes to check on me—pronounces me and the baby healthy despite the stress—and then finally, blessedly, I am alone with Dante in my doorless bedroom.
"Get some real sleep," he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I will be right down the hall if you need anything."
"Stay," I say, catching his hand. "Please. I don’t want to be alone tonight."
He does not hesitate. Just kicks off his shoes and climbs into bed beside me, pulling me back against his chest. His hand settles over my stomach, protective and possessive, and I cover it with my own.
"We did it," I whisper into the darkness. "We got her back."
"We did," Dante agrees. "And now we get to focus on the future. On this baby. On our family."
Our family. The words settle over me like a benediction.
I close my eyes and, for the first time in days, I sleep without nightmares.