Always With You - Part Three(20)

"No, Isabella. I'm so sorry."

I want to hold her, to comfort her, but something tells me that she's doing this the way that's best for her, so I quell the urge and just stay still, listening to her, talking with her. 

A single tear slips from the edge of her lashes and trickles down to disappear into the pillowcase. "I get to stay here, right? With you and m-my dad?"

My chest gets tight as I fight back my own tears. Although she doesn't know the extent to which her life and the world around her are messed up, she still knows far more about it than any innocent should. As far as I'm concerned, she never needs to know that Cash isn't her father. Or the circumstances surrounding her mother's death. We'll figure out what to tell her on another day. When everyone is feeling stronger. For now, we all just need to heal.

I smile over at her, hoping that it conveys the assurance that she so desperately seeks. "You're part of us now, Isabella. You're a Davenport. And Davenports are forever."

And, to the very bottom of my soul, I know that's true. We are forever. And now she's one of us.

I lean over to kiss her forehead before I take her hand and lay it on the bed between us. With her obsidian eyes locked on mine, I rub each of her fingers, one by one, from base to tip. Over and over, I repeat the sequence until her lids get heavy and she gives in to her need for rest. Only after she's been asleep and breathing deeply for almost an hour do I close my own eyes.

This time, I have no trouble going to sleep.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN



Cash



As long as I live, I will never forget the way it felt to wake up in the early morning hours to find Olivia in bed beside me. And Isabella beside her. Emotion wells up inside me and I can't imagine having any stronger feelings when I see my wife with my own child than I do right now. Maybe they will be stronger. If they are, that might damn well kill me.

I ease up onto my elbow and watch them, thinking to myself that I could sit here for hours and just look at them. They're head to head, each on her back, leaning toward the other, like there is comfort there, even in sleep.

My eyes are on Isabella's face when hers pop open and pin me with a stare. I don't know what to say to her really. There's so much to say, I suppose, but I don't know where to start. Or when to start. I guess I'll get to it eventually. After all, we've got all the time in the world.

I smile at her and put a finger to my lips so that we don't wake Olivia. She glances at my wife and then back at me, raising one small digit to her own lips and mimicking my gesture. When she drops it back to her chest, we continue to watch each other and I feel more and more pressed to say something.

But Isabella takes care of that. Bringing her finger to her lips again, she kisses the tip and then holds it out to me. My throat squeezes around some emotion I might never identify and I do the same, pressing my finger to hers. We sit like that for several long seconds, staring at each other, until she lowers her hand again and closes her eyes. I listen to her breathing return to a deep, even rhythm for several long, content minutes, all the while promising her silently that I'll die before I let harm come to her. Just like Olivia said, she's mine in all the ways that matter. Mine and Olivia's. And Davenports are forever.





EPILOGUE



Olivia



10 weeks later



I'm a bundle of nerves. And not the good kind. When I got the call from my obstetrician's office this morning, I was initially excited. It's still surreal that I'm pregnant, that I'm carrying the baby of the love of my life. But now I'm very anxious.

The girl who called me was very nice. I can't remember her name now. Once she told me that I needed to come in for some additional testing, everything else just disappeared. She made a point to tell me that it was nothing to worry about, but that wasn't nearly enough to make me not worry.



       
         
       
        

I'm debating whether to tell Isabella. We've been making it a point to involve her in every step of the process. We want her to feel like she's a part of the family. Because she is a part of the family. That becomes more and more clear as the days go by. The time that we all spend together is better and more fulfilling than I ever could've expected. And watching Cash blossom into fatherhood …  Well, that's enough to make my heart explode into a million tiny pieces of happiness.

But taking her to this? That might not be such a good idea. I've also been debating whether to tell Cash. I feel like I'm on the verge of something awful and I almost want to keep it to myself. Maybe that would make it less real. I don't know. I just have the urge to go off by myself and lick my wounds, even though I haven't even gotten any yet. But I feel them. Like phantom limb or something, only these are predictive. I feel them coming, like the lashes of a whip that has yet to sting my flesh. A bad moon is rising, I'm afraid. I had hoped this good would last forever, but I guess that's just not the way life goes.