Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“Mommy’s found an oyster,” I muse, checking Ruby’s protected from the sun. She’s wide awake. Alert, looking up at me. Happy. I help Pearl back up as she shakes the shell free of sand.
Something rattles inside, and her eyes shoot to mine. “Oh my God, do you think there’s a pearl in here?” Her excitement nearly puts me on my ass.
It might be Pearl on her ass soon.
My stomach does an unexpected flip as she inspects the shell, starting to pry it open. Her gasp is endearing. “There is. There’s a pearl.” God love her, she reaches inside and plucks the pearl from the shell, holding it up between us. Her smile falters. Some lines appear across her forehead. “And there’s a ring attached.” She looks at me. “Brad, there’s a ring attached to this pearl.”
“There is?”
“Yeah, look.” She thrusts the ring forward for me to see, and I smile, shy, slowly dropping to my knees before her with Ruby snug in the crook of my arm. Poor thing looks lost. “What are you doing?”
I pluck the ring from her hand, and she retracts like she’s been bitten. “I need that.”
I check our daughter is still awake. She is, gurgling. She approves. I take a deep breath and look up at a dumbstruck Pearl.
“Brad?” she whispers, stepping back.
“I know you’re young,” I say, frowning, the specific words I’ve been planning over the weeks disappearing in a puff of nervous smoke. “And I’m not.”
She slaps a hand over her mouth. I’m not sure if it’s to stop her laughing or crying. Both? I look at my love, searching for those words. I’m coming up empty. What the fuck is wrong with me? I have a brain blockage, as well as a mouth blockage. I clear my throat. “Fuck,” I whisper, dropping my ass to my heels, feeling a bit overcome. Her hand appears in my vision, and I look up at her, taking it. She joins me on the sand, our knees touching. And suddenly it all falls into place.
Red.
I stare at her, watching the breeze whip her hair round her face, watch her push that one side over her ear, her smile small but still fucking blinding. “I don’t only want to be your hero, Pearl,” I whisper, releasing her hand, showing her the ring. “I want to be your husband, your friend, your lover, your protector, your confidant. I want to be your everything.” I feel the lump in my throat grow. “Because you’re my everything.”
One single tear rolls down her cheek.
“I will never let anyone hurt you or our little girl. I’ll stand in the way of any danger or pain. I will kiss the ground you walk on for the rest of your life if you’ll allow it.” Because while Pearl thinks I saved her, it’s actually she who saved me. From myself. I existed on cocaine, sex, and adrenaline. It was hollow, and yet I told myself it was what I wanted. That I didn’t need anything else. Couldn’t have anything else, not in my world. Then I found Pearl on a dirty mattress, bruised and lost. “It’s all I want to do for the rest of my life.”
She looks down at the ring, and I see a few more tears hit her knees as she slips it onto her finger. Feels at the pearl around her neck. Thinks of her mother. “I think I’d like that,” she says, checking Ruby in my arms, her lip wobbling. She takes a deep breath and raises her eyes to mine, reaching for my stubbly cheek. “I love you,” she whispers. “And I will never tell you ever again. Only show you.” Lifting with some effort to her knees, I join her, our lips meeting over our baby’s head, our hearts touching, connected by Ruby.
Always.
Her soft lips work mine, her tongue dipping into my mouth, and I accept, settled. Content. My daughter in one arm, Pearl in the other.
My loves.
Never to be let go.
Epilogue - Part TWO
JAMES
* * *
Calm. I see it in Brad all the way from here as I watch from the decking of our villa. Both of them on their knees. It’s apt. For all of us.
On our knees.
At the mercy of these women.
Reclined in the chair, my daughter asleep on my bare chest, her cheek squished, I relax and relish the sounds of the waves lapping the shore, my hand covering her back entirely. I watch the sun, anticipating another half hour before it touches this spot. She’ll be awake by then. Two hours between one and three, guaranteed. It’s amazing how much you can get done in two hours when you’re against the clock. And fit in some intimate time too. Essential.
Not today, though.
Beau’s gone to the salon with Rose for the first time since Georgie was born nearly five months ago. “So it’s just me and you,” I whisper, looking down at the back of her head, stroking over the silky dark blonde wisps of hair.