Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
Pop was who he was and because of that, and because of all I’d seen and done, I am the man I am today. It meant a lot of things, some of it bad, but not all of it. But I was also who I was because of the way I lost my ma. I was the sum total of my experiences, I guess. But Pop being who he was and Greg O’Connor being who he was? The sum total of that meant that I met and married Tia. And made a family with her.
Maybe I’m a little more like my father than I’d wanna admit, but I could’ve been my pop in so many other ways. He fell in love with Tia’s mother and she couldn’t take his darkness. In the end, he lost her. In the end, he lost everything. I wasn’t gonna let that happen. I counted myself lucky that he did, or I wouldn’t have Tia. I counted myself lucky because not only did I have her but she was also able to withstand my shit. Not that I wanted to keep testing her like that.
I somehow escaped karma for the shit I pulled by getting the most beautiful girl in the world to fall in love with me and put up with all my bullshit. Or maybe karma gave her to me to make up for who I was born to, watching my ma die, what I put up with as a little kid.
But karma clearly ain’t done with me yet. God saw fit to punish me for my sins by making me a father to a beautiful baby girl that's as breathtaking as her mother.
My eyes. Tia’s cupid’s bow mouth. Chubby cheeks and skin like peaches and cream. This tiny little baby? She takes my breath away. She makes my chest hurt. Strong little fists that clock me on a regular basis and she also has a strong set of lungs on her that keep us up half the night.
We named her Carina, which Tia wanted after finding out it means beloved. No, I never had a Carina in the past and even if I had, I wouldn’t say a word about it. I wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
She didn’t get a middle name. With a name like that, she doesn’t need one. I didn’t want her to have to live up to anyone else’s ideals by being named after anyone we know.
Some people name their kids for their loved ones out of respect. Or, like my father, they name them after themselves with some high hopes that their kids will live up to. We just want her to be who she is gonna be.
And I pray that she’s gonna wanna be a nun. My karma? She’ll be a drop-dead gorgeous race car driver or stunt woman so that I live out the rest of my days downing antacids and drowning in stress.
Tia said she doesn’t even wanna think about when she’s old enough to date. I’ll probably drop dead. I said I’d hang the first fucker that came sniffing around from a tree on the front lawn as a warning to scare the others away.
Where was I with my demons? My existential crisis?
I'd given up my birthright as heir to the dirtiest parts of my father’s not-so-legal empire, but I was still a man and had come to the conclusion that, yes, I wanted to be a man my daughter would look up to.
I would never put my kids in the position Pop put us in. I’d never put Tia in the position Greg put her in. But the man I am, it meant holding onto just enough of the world Pop bequeathed to make sure I wasn’t powerless. I had enough power to take down my enemies and protect what belongs to me.
The cradle in our room was empty. My heart dropped but then my gaze moved to the bed and I could see Tommy cuddled up with our sleeping baby on the bed. He was on his side, shirtless and sockless, wearing a pair of track pants. She was cradled against his chest, his hand supporting her back. He was looking at her little sleeping face, an expression on his face that I couldn’t describe other than to say that seeing his face like that? I was growing more and more in love with him than I had ever been.
Seeing him, gorgeous with that messy hair, five o’clock shadow, and whisky eyes, how he looked at our newborn daughter who was held close to the tattoo he’d inked on himself to promise to keep trying to be worthy of love? I felt so lucky. He looked at her like she was a miracle. She was. Our miracle.
Babies were born every single second around the world but this little girl was our world. He’d wrap her up in pink blankets only, even though we had so many others. He’d stare at her for hours. He would give her anything in the world she wanted. I knew that last part just by watching how he was with her.
And since bringing her into the world, he looked at me with more light in his eyes, more love and yet even more possessiveness than ever.
We had a very hard time with my labor. My water broke, but twenty-two hours later I still wasn’t dilating and they were worried about infection.
Tommy was a wreck because they’d given me an epidural, but then my labor went on so long that it wore off and they didn’t get me another one before the pain started.
They’d been inducing me for many hours so my pain was extreme. He hated to see me crying and he was very verbal about this to the nurses and doctors until a nurse that was built like a bodybuilder crossed with an army tank got in his face and threatened to remove him from the maternity unit with security. He was about to freak out some more but I pleaded with him to just hold my hand and stay close.
“I can’t bear to do this without you.”
Our seven-pound baby girl was delivered by C-section as Tommy held my hand and sang Etta James to me to calm me down when I had a flip-out because I couldn’t feel my legs due to the spinal block before surgery.
He had decided I was his as soon as he laid eyes on me, but it was as if his emotions deepened with each milestone. More love came at me from my possessive alpha dominator husband on a daily basis, especially since the baby came. He treated us both like priceless artifacts.
I carefully climbed in behind him, my C-section scar aching a little, and put my lips to his naked back. He carefully turned onto his back and put his arm around me so that he had her cradled on one side, me on the other, both of us wrapped up in his arms.
“My girls,” he whispered, and he had such a peaceful smile on his face.
I kissed his jaw and nuzzled in, putting my head on his chest.
God, he was giving me the feels again. The look on his face; the love I felt.
“I love you.” I cried happy tears onto his chest and then, exhausted from being up almost all night with Carina the night before, I fell asleep on his chest, my hand on our baby’s back. I heard him whisper, “Love you more, baby girl.”
Four Weeks Later
Today is the day, my six weeks are up. I had my check-up and my doctor gave me a green light.
We can have sex tonight. Woo hoo!
I got the baby bathed and to bed. She had taken a big feeding, so I was hoping she’d sleep for a bit.
I was freshly shaved everywhere that needed shaving and I’d put on a cute empire waist style silky nightie. It’d take some sit-ups and running to get my body back, but this looked kinda cute on me. I twirled in front of the mirror and he caught me. He stopped in his tracks inside the bedroom doorway and his eyes emitted heat as he took me in.
My face went pink.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” Tommy was moving toward me.
“How’s it going?” I asked, cheekily, tilting my head at him.
“Better now.” He started undoing his coffee-colored button-down shirt.
“Where’s the baby? She sleepin’?” He went for his belt.
How sexy is it to watch a man undo his belt when you know he’s undoing it in order to come at you and give you pleasure?
His hands were on me. My nightie went up, his hands went there, and my clit buzzed.
“No panties, fuck. You’re gonna make me come before my dick is outta my pants. Open those legs wide for me,” He tossed me back on the bed possessively. Wow. I bounced a little before he landed on me. I winced.
“What? I hurt you? Your incision?” He looked panicked.
“It’s okay.” I reached for him and kissed his chest.
His hands went to my hips. “Fuck you’re so soft and beautiful,” he said.
“You mean a chunky monkey?” I asked.
He’d called Carina that the day before, because her cheeks were chubbing right up.
“No, you’re gorgeous. Look at you, my fucking beautiful baby girl. He kissed each of my hips and then he kissed my C-section scar.
He hated that they had to cut me open. He’d pampered me the past six weeks, making sure I wasn’t in too much pain while I healed, doing everything for me. Foot rubs, doing the laundry, even! He didn’t let Sarah pamper me the way she wanted because he wanted to do it himself.
“I missed touching you like this, baby girl,” he said, his tongue going between my legs. “Mm, so fucking wet and sweet.”
My head rolled back.
“Hold those legs wide for me,” he said, putting his fingers between my legs. “Let me see your pussy clench as you come.” I arched my back and it wasn’t long before I started to come under the onslaught of his fingers, knowing his gaze was on me down there, seeing the heated expression on his face.
“Hard, baby. I need you. Now,” I demanded.
He stared at my pussy, and then his eyes locked with mine as he licked me, back to front, his tongue hooking and then twirling at my asshole for a split second.
Whoa.
He slurped against my clit and I shuddered with the sensation. My fingers found their way into his hair. I held him to me. He wasn't gonna go anywhere, I didn't care if there was a nuclear explosion. I was gonna keep his mouth against me.
“Gonna fuck you now. You want me to fuck you sweet or hard?” I let go of his head. But I didn’t want to.
He got into position and then pushed, hard. So hard. God, it was awesome.
“Yeah, milk it baby. Squeeze your pussy tight for me. Squeeze my cock.” His thumb went to my ass again.
His dirty-talk was on point tonight.
I squeezed and he put his mouth to my ear. He made an “Mm” sound that vibrated against my ear.
I heard a gust of noise through the baby monitor on Tommy’s side of the bed (He insisted on getting up to bring her in when she woke in the middle of the night. Sometimes, I could swear he just carried her in, even when she wasn’t crying).
The baby was awake. I guess we’d finish up later.
I pouted. He rolled and headed for the bathroom, washed his hands, and then headed to her bedroom.
He changed her and then I fed her.
After, we got back to “business”… finishing spectacularly.
Two Months After That
I had joined an online dating site for people who were kinky. I know it sounds crazy and dangerous but I’m not ready for a relationship, I can’t even think about something serious. Yet, I’ve been thinking a lot about sex. I’ve been thinking about the kind of sex that goes on at fetish clubs like Fete.
A few weeks after the drama with Mexico and the rape, I was doing a lot of soul-searching. The only man I had ever had sex with, unless you count the rape, which I don’t count as anything worth remembering, (it was a violation, not an act of love or passion) was my husband. He was my first. But I’m in my 20’s. I’m not going to not ever have sex again.
And as bad as things went at that sex club opening, things I saw there got me more than a little bit curious about the spicier side of sex. I loved my husband. I liked sex a lot. But he was all I’d had. I had nothing to compare that to.
I started out with this profile, using a picture my sister took of me for a girls’ night out a few months before Jim died. I looked pretty good, I’d just gotten back into my pre-baby jeans for the first time, and so we got all dolled up and went out to celebrate.
Luc might have actually gotten pregnant with Nicky that night. Anyway, I created a profile a few weeks after that drama and learned a few things:
1: Just because you see a hot profile picture doesn’t mean the guy actually looks like that. I was cat-fished repeatedly. I started looking up the photos on a reverse photo engine and saw that a lot of the super-hot guys were actual male models or movie stars. Too many are trying to use romance novel covers or snippets of Michael Stokes’ photos as their photo.
2: Dick pics are now considered an ice breaker. WTF? I got half a dozen my first day. Okay, so this wasn’t exactly that Christian dating site, but really? Let’s have a conversation or two before you show me your junk.
I talked to a few guys over the app and it was fun but some of it was creepy and no one tickled my interest until a few weeks later and then I started talking to a guy. He was being real sweet, not overly sexual but sort of suggestive. It was a turn-on. He’d ask me questions about the books I like, the movies I own, the music that I want played as the soundtrack if someone makes a movie about me. He would ask me what I wore, to describe my favorite meal, to tell him what I’d dreamt about the night before.
He overuses emojis a little bit and won’t share a pic (his profile pic is of his hands, playing a guitar, and his forearms and hands are seriously sexy).
I started talking to him via the app more and more often and it escalated to about a dozen or more times a day. Every time my phone made noise and I wasn’t alone, I got antsy and made an excuse to be alone to reply to him.
The boys were keeping me busy but Sarah’s always trying to give me a break and Ed hired someone new at the restaurant so I’m only helping him out two days a week.
JAKEandNotASNAKE really caught my attention. He talked to me like I’m a person. Not a widow. Not a rape victim. Not a little sister of dangerous men, or a platonic friend, but like I’m someone he is actually interested in.
We’d been dancing around the idea of meeting for a bit and I’m the one that pushed, finally. I’m going to meet him for a drink Saturday night.
We hadn’t gotten overly sexual in our discussions, but he got a little bit descriptive late one night after a long few hours of constant texting. He told me he likes to be bossy in bed. When he’s with someone, he likes to give orders around sex, around what she’ll wear, whether or not she gets to touch herself, etcetera. I got very excited about the etcetera part, got squishy in my panties just thinking about that notion.
I was honest, said I had only been with one man, it had been very vanilla, and that I was curious about the spicier side of things.
I hope that’s not a mistake. I hope Jim would understand.
I sat at the bar for about half an hour. Maybe Jake-not-a-snake saw me and something about me made him wanna leave. Maybe he thinks he’s not attractive enough for me.
Don’t hate me for sounding like a conceited bitch. I’m not a ten out of ten. I hate my chin and I’m too short. My hips and my J-Lo ass are too big, too. But as far as blind dates go, unless something about me really hits a nerve, a guy is probably gonna at least wanna talk to me.
I sat at the bar. A gorgeous redheaded guy with a bit of a Michael Fassbender vibe approached.
“How are you doin’ this fine evening?” he asked me, sidling up close.
“I’m good. I’m meeting someone,” I said.
He looked me over and shook his head. “Shame. That doesn’t work out, I’ll be here a bit.”
I flushed red a little bit. I was flattered. It felt good to have someone appreciate me appearance-wise.
But after a few more guys tried to pick me up, and one of them kind of creepily, I decided that maybe Jake couldn’t make it. Or, saw me and was disappointed. So, I was going to leave.
But someone, a guy who’d tried to pick me up in the bar, tried to grab me in the parking lot and force me into a car. It was a replay of the nightmare that got me raped and I was seeing my life flash before my eyes, when someone yanked the guy off me and beat the snot out of him and called the cops.
Zack Jacobs saved me.
And then, while he held the guy until the cops got there, Zack admitted he was Jake. I was furious, thinking my brothers were having me tailed, spying on me, but Zack explained he was still getting some intelligence from when he was investigating my brothers and part of that intel included our internet search history. Seriously?
Get a good security program for your computer. You never know who is paying attention!
He had intended to stop the practice but caught the pattern on my usage and said he was concerned. I think he was nosy. And being a perv. I was looking up some explicit terms and it was embarrassing to think about someone knowing about that.
He tried to convince me that he actually was interested in me. I gave him the finger and took off.
He followed me and tried to ask me out by Luc’s door. That didn’t go real well.
“Tessa, please believe me,” Zack pleaded. “C’mon. Let me take you out to dinner.”
“Fuck you.”
“Can I text you for a bit? Keep talking, then? Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
I stood there and malfunctioned. He saw his opening.
He grabbed his phone and was doing something. I was standing against the door of my sister Luc’s house. She was babysitting my boys.
My phone made a noise. I lifted it from my pocket.
The screen was filled with silly emojis.
I rolled my eyes. He was really good looking. Tall, clean cut, but rugged. Sexy. Built.
“I’ll text you. Grovel for a week or two. Maybe then you’ll let me take you out.”
“Why’d you leave me sitting there, Zack?”
He made a face. “I was waffling. Thinkin’ about all you’d been through, all…”
“My baggage?”
“No. Not your baggage. Your feelings. I didn’t want to toy with you, Tessa, serious. I just – it’s been a long time since I felt anything like this and…”
“What the fuck?” That was Tommy, coming out of Luc’s, carrying Carina in her car seat. He was staring at Zack and electric bolts were shooting out of his eyes. They were going to melt Zack into a puddle of goo.
Shit.
Zack made an excuse and left. Tommy looked at me for an explanation, but I waved at him. “Don’t even ask.”
Some weeks later, Zack finally convinced me to let him take me out and it was a pretty phenomenal date. When we were at my door, him kissing me goodnight and making me go weak in the knees, my brother emerged from the darkness and put a gun to Zack’s head.
It was pretty dramatic and ended with me begging him not to hurt Zack. Tommy was furious, thought Zack was playing me.
“Pop took Jimmy from me. Don’t you take Zack.” was the line that got Tommy to lower his gun.
“Does Zack mean something to you?” Tommy demanded.
“I don’t know. He might. He could.”
“Get inside,” my bossy brother ordered.
I overheard his short chat with Zack.
Zack said, “Is that what I gotta do to get us through this? Be like Lex with Holly? Marry your sister?”
“Motherfucker, don’t think you get off easy. You decide to make me your brother-in-law you’ll be in my sights for the rest of your fuckin’ life.”
“You told me I needed to give you a good reason not to end our relationship.”
Zack was obviously joking.
“You fucking with my sister’s feelings?” Tommy was clearly not joking.
“No, man. Not at all. She impresses the fuck outta me. I wanna get to know her better. See if there’s something.”
“You got at least ten years on her, Zack.”
Zack chuckled and I’m sure he was giving Tommy the ‘you’re a hypocrite’ look because there are ten years between Tommy and Tia.
“All right, all right. Get the fuck outta here. I got my eye on you.”
I love my big brothers. Both of them. They are bad asses who wouldn’t hesitate to pull a gun on someone to protect us.
But their hearts are in the right places.
2 Years Later
We spent almost a year trying to get pregnant. It was hard on us, especially her. I started to wonder if it was a punishment for all I’d done wrong. My penance would be that I wouldn’t be able to give her kids. Maybe the baby Debbie aborted hadn’t been mine. Maybe I couldn’t even father a child.
The doctor said it was my wife that had medical challenges, not me, and that although it wasn’t out of the question, it would be difficult to get pregnant.
I was not relieved. She felt like a failure. It was so rough on her that I wished it’d been me that was the problem, because the way she beat herself up over it was hard to watch. If it were my fertility that was the problem, she’d have adapted. It was who she was; always trying to be what I needed.
After several months of trying, a pattern began where she’d be happy a couple weeks a month and then she’d get anxious, try to hide it, and then be in the dumps when she got her period. Month after month waiting to do pregnancy tests, getting her period despite fucking like jackrabbits.
And then she wanted to talk adoption, surrogacy, being foster parents, something. She had all this love to give and wanted to shower it on children. Our nieces and nephews adored her. She really was finding herself again. Laughing, living, giving me love in a way that I knew I’d never want anyone but her. She spent a lot of time with our nieces and nephews to get her fix, especially Tommy and Tia’s little Carina, who absolutely lit up every time she saw her Auntie Angel. We were the resident babysitters, after Sarah of course.
I wanted to give it more time. I wasn’t against raising kids that weren’t mine biologically or against having our baby carried by someone else, so long as we knew they were healthy and responsible, but we were still young; there wasn’t a ticking timer yet.
I was okay with waiting a couple years to see if we got our own baby the normal way first. I encouraged her to maybe go back to teaching, spending her day with kids, while we waited it out. We got along great. Life was beautiful with just the two of us for now.
She didn’t wanna wait, told me that if we couldn’t get pregnant, there were kids who needed parents now, and I gotta say, it thrilled me to no end when she put her foot down and got in my face about starting right away.
The sass was coming out more and more. More and more I got my sassy cowgirl from that bull riding video. My Angel still had fire outside the bedroom, and she felt safe enough to show it to me when it really counted for her.
Of course, I relented, bursting into laughter after her fit, which got her upset and made her throw a bigger fit. It was a good sign about her state of mind. She practically melted when I explained that my glee wasn’t over her frustration, rather her ability to let that show. She felt safe with me, safe to be herself. And she was everything I wanted.
Her face was red. “I don’t know what the fuck is so funny about this!”
I’d grabbed her and pinned her on the bed and she didn’t even show a shred of fear.
“It’s not funny, it’s fuckin’ amazing.”
“What the fuck is amazing?” she’d snapped.
“Angelbaby, my beautiful wife. You feelin’ safe enough to throw a fit and push to get what you want, to tell me how important something is to you rather than shrinking away with a ‘Yes, Master’. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful and I’ll do everything in my power to give you whatever it is that you want.”
She melted into me. “Don’t you want it, too?”
“Babies with you? Definitely. If I never get a baby with you, I’m okay with just havin’ you. We’ll be everyone’s favorite aunt and uncle and everyone in the family’ll love us because we’ll offer to take their kids constantly. But if we get to be parents together, biological or otherwise? Yeah. I want that, too.”
I’d give my girl anything I could give her to try to make up for what she’d been through. And besides, my queen deserved to have whatever the fuck she wanted in life just because.
We came to a compromise. Fertility drugs for a while to see if anything worked out. If they didn’t, we’d re-group and explore surrogacy or adoption. And if we got our family the natural way, in a couple years we’d seriously consider adopting anyway, to give some kid who needed a family, a family.
She skeptically went on fertility drugs but they worked like a charm; we got our wish. In triplicate.
Triplets on our second month of trying. Close to eight months after getting the news, we got our family. Two boys and a girl. Born early but very healthy.
Our first born: James, after my late brother-in-law Jimmy, with dark blond hair and sapphire blue eyes. He looks like me with his mother’s eyes. We call him Jamie.
Charles David, our little Charlie, after Angel’s dad’s best friend, middle name after her pop, he came next. He’s dark blond and blue-grey eyed, also looking like me.
And then we got our sapphire blue-eyed curly red-haired little girl. Darla Shae. Darla, a combination of Dario and Angelica. We got the Shae in short for Shayla after Lisa’s real name.
Leese sold Pop’s house but is still in our lives on an almost weekly basis because she’s become as close to Angel as she is to the other girls. We made her Darla’s godmother. She was thrilled about her secret little namesake.
Leese has started dating and she is heavily involved in fundraising for charities related to helping survivors of human trafficking. She does it quietly, never revealing anything about her personal experience. There may still be eyes on her. She wanted to help the Kruna victims we’d liberated. She couldn’t, of course, because there could be eyes on us, so it was a while before she could do what she wanted, and help other survivors.
We were approached by Stan Smith who approached on behalf of some remaining partners and expressed that we had no concerns whatsoever about her state of mind or her ability to keep her mouth shut.
We were concerned about those questions and considered taking action against Bart Shaw, the guy who I’d suspected was the one that asked. And in fact, I’m fairly certain she got a warning visit, though she won’t confirm that suspicion she also didn’t deny it when Tommy and I asked her about it.
There has been life after Kruna and after Pop for Shayla Townsend, aka Lisa Ferrano. A good life.
She dated Dex for a little while but it didn’t get too serious. I don’t think she’s ready for serious.
Stan Smith, still in Thailand, handles some of the areas we haven’t yet found our way out of overseas and is definitely earning his hefty retainer.
Our involvement in the demise of Kruna is still a secret as far as we know. A few of the partners are still out there, under the radar, and of course there are members. We’ve been approached more than once about starting up again but we’ve respectfully declined.
The way things went down, it seemed to work out okay. For now. I’m hoping nothing bites us in the asses later.
Tessa and Zack got together about a year after Jimmy died. It took some time for their relationship to progress and he earned respect by saving her from a tight spot that could’ve started a whole other war with me and Tommy and some dangerous people if Zack hadn’t been there to save her from her foray into the BDSM world, which we don’t like to think about, but it happened. Seems that her tour of Fete got her curious about that world but she wasn’t real smart in satisfying her curiosity.
After a bit of drama, they decided to give it a go and now they live together. He’s a good influence on Antonio and Lucas and he makes my sister happy. He and I are tight, I get where he’s coming from and how intricate his business is, why he does what he does. And what he does still benefits the Ferrano family on a fairly regular basis. Tommy busts his chops every chance he gets but that’s my brother. Deep down I know he’s all right with Zack, even if he doesn’t outright say it.
The business? We’ve sold off some more of Ferrano Enterprises. It still exists but it’s much smaller and most of it much cleaner. Mostly.
Some of it, we’ve dissolved. We’ve retained some of the relationships for the sake of history, favors, and protection. Tommy runs the construction company and maintains a few important key relationships that also mean that we occasionally have to do favors in order to have a surplus of markers, but everything else we’re investors, silent partners, get royalties, or we’ve dissolved or sold off. Our dividends from Fete alone could support us. The place rakes in the cash, hand over fist, and though he’s busy running the construction company, Tommy also manages our money. He’s excellent at it.
Me? I’ve got my finger in a couple different pies.
My day-to-day, I bought a small established charter company that has three planes. I fly a few times a week and have pilots on staff. I help Tommy out here and there. I’m still VP of Ferrano Enterprises on paper but I’m only in a suit a couple days a month.
I’ve helped Zack’s private eye agency and a few close friends a time or two, as well. We moved out of the condo into a four-bedroom house in a great neighborhood with plenty of parks and good schools. We did that as soon as Holly came to stay. She only stayed three months. But that’s another story.
Angel plans to go back to teaching after our kids are in school full-time. She might open her own little Montessori school instead of going back to work at a public school. Life is getting sweeter all the time.
Tia goes to university and she’s working toward her degree in social work, while balancing motherhood and my brother. He wanted her to do online school but she pressed for an on-campus experience and he relented.
Tommy and Tia moved out of the place a few doors from Pop’s a few months after Carina was born. Tommy had a new house built a few streets over from Tia’s foster parents and not far from the foster-grandparents, so Tia could be there to help them on a regular basis.
We all regularly go up to Tommy and Tia’s farm in the summers. They’ve built an addition onto the farmhouse and Tommy bought Tia and Carina horses on Carina’s first birthday. They’re taken care of by a farm down the road and brought over when the Ferranos spend a weekend there. Angel can’t get enough of it and is always lookin’ for an invite up there, so she can ride. Maybe I’ll have to get her a horse for her next birthday…
It’ll be ages before baby Carina can ride on her own, she’s as cute as a button, looking just like Tia but with Tommy’s eyes. Tommy doesn’t care she’s not old enough to ride a horse. She lights up at the sight of it and that’s enough for him.
I joked that he’ll buy her a car for her fifth birthday, but he didn’t see the humor and said his little princess wouldn’t drive, he’d have her chauffeured everywhere, with six bodyguards that’d double as pallbearers for anyone that dared speak to his daughter. That got an eyeroll from Tia. But my brother? Not even joking.
I feel the same way and am glad my baby daughter has two big brothers to watch out for her the way me and Tommy have watched out for Tess and Luciana.
What about Holly and Alessandro?
He came back for her a few months after she came to stay with us. They got married but it was not smooth sailing immediately after their wedding.
But, that’s a long story. It was one fuckuva bumpy road.
Three months after Holly came to stay, Dare flew us to Alaska on one of his first solo flights for a quick trip and we tried to talk to our mother. That was painful for Holly.
I never really knew Felicia when she was a nurturing and loving mother, so I didn’t feel the loss the way my sister did. I went along mostly to be there for Holly.
Felicia wants to be where she is. Her life could be different. Holly told her we could get her into rehab, that she could come live with us. She turned us down.
I’ve closed that chapter. Like Tia, like Dare and Tommy, I know that just because you have a parent doesn’t mean that parent is going to do right by you. It’s okay. We’ll do better with our own kids.
I lost a lot of sleep over Holly when she and Alessandro first got married. A lot. But things have a way of working themselves out.
My Master, my Dare, he really has helped all my dreams come true. I’m free. A to B and then X to Y took me all the way to Z.
Speaking of which, we got a big fat rescue cat I named Zee. He’s a purr machine that I rescued from a shelter. When we got him, he was frightened and timid but bit by bit, he began showing his personality to us. I think me and Z are kindred spirits.
I’ve got my sister in my life. I’ve got Dare’s babies. I’m busy but so very happy. After being broken over nineteen days, I stopped hoping to be rescued, but I didn’t give up. I put my plan in motion and my plan got me out of there.
Never give up, no matter how bad things seem.
Behind the scenes, I help Lisa out a little bit with the foundation she started to help rescued victims of human trafficking move on with their lives.
I can’t put our family at risk by being out in the open about my efforts against the world of sex slavery, but I’ve helped Lisa wherever I can administratively, and Dare sends her foundation a fat donation every year.
Life is good. It’s filled with fried spaghetti and fried spaghetti messes on little chubby faces, sports on TV and games that we go to with our triple stroller. When the babies are a few years old, I want to adopt another baby or two. Or they don’t even have to be babies. I just want to have a big loving family, like the one I’m now a part of. I want to give that love to someone who maybe didn’t think they’d ever have it; the way it was so generously given to me.
I can’t wait to put the kids in sports. For Dare to coach them. He can’t wait either, but for now, we’re enjoying the messy blur of baby days.
Dare’s the best daddy in the whole wide world, and I have a good life. I’ve been quietly in touch with Charlie and Betsy and they’re coming for Christmas.
Maybe next year, I’ll sneak out to the old farm, which they’re happy to continue to take care of. I’m signing it over to them for a Christmas surprise. It’ll come back to my kids some day when they are no longer.
I’m so grateful.
Oh yeah, when I gave birth, they took my collar at the hospital. I didn’t even mind. I haven’t worn a necklace at all in about six months. It’s just not practical with my three grabby-hands babies. I also haven’t flat-ironed my hair since I left Kruna before it was engulfed in a ball of flames. I may never wear a necklace or have straight hair again. And for that, I’m ecstatic.
Laying there with my girls, all was right in the world.
Tia falling asleep with happy tears on my chest when Carina was two weeks old after how that first night together ended? A dream come true. My girl on my right, my daughter on my left; I was a lucky fuck.
The thing about men like me? We do bad things sometimes. I can’t speak for everyone but for some of us, it’s partly because we were bred that way and partly because we need to do it to survive.
But, when the right girl comes along, she’ll be someone who overlooks some of a guy’s flaws without letting him walk all over her. She’s the one because she gives him something he can’t get anywhere else.
By giving him her love, she’ll slay some of his demons. She’ll get to see what’s underneath, what he doesn’t let the rest of the world see. Maybe once she sees what’s underneath, she’ll decide he’s worth overlooking some of his flaws, rough though they can be. And he’ll see that and try to be better. For her.
And if he’s a guy like me? What she gives him will make him think that maybe, despite the fact that there are blemishes on his soul, that he’s somehow escaped karma or been deemed worthy of love.
Guys like that will do what needs to be done to keep her safe, even if that means we aren’t always the good guy, even if it means more black marks on our souls.
And even if we’ll never be the white-hat wearing hero, the right girl will make a man, no matter how dark he can sometimes get, try to be better than he was. He’ll be better for her and because of her.