I welcome the heat that follows. My cock stands half-mast as I take in her wet, naked body. Curling around her, I wrap an arm around her ribs. My thumbs caress the swell of her tits and my dick hits her back as she leans into me. She rests her head against my chest and a sigh escapes her lips.
Hot water pelts down on both of us.
Ali tilts her head up to meet my eyes. “You went to see him didn’t you?”
I nod, staring back at the woman who knows me so well. For the past month she’s known something was wrong, but she never pushed for me to talk about it. Right up until I did tell her. And tonight, whenever she woke up she’d guessed where I was gone. She never called to stop me, to tell me to come home, even if going there by myself was a terrible idea. She gets it. Some things you have to do alone. Sometimes you have to conquer the demons in your head on your own before you can let anyone else in to share the pain. I had to process a whole fucking life I never envisioned.
I nod. “Yeah. I did. I’m sorry I left without telling you.”
Her tired eyes close as she murmurs, “It’s okay. But can you just stay with me now? Please?”
Vulnerability slips through the cracks in her voice.
My hand tightens around her as I vow to never let her go. “Always.”
The wet green grass squelches beneath my shoes. It’s so vibrant green. Healthy. Alive. Which seems ridiculous when it’s surrounded by death. The umbrella digs into my palm as I hold it tight. The rain pelts down on us, heavy and loud. Ali’s small hand squeezes my arm and gives me a tight smile before stepping away from my mother’s and sister’s graves. After last night, I had to come. I needed to be with them when I let go. When I let go of the past twenty-nine years of anger. Obsession. The questions haunting me—all of it. Even the parts I may never remember again. She’s gone. A little girl I never got to meet is gone. Marino is dead. It’s time to move on. I bend down and balance on my knees. I kiss two fingers and rest them on my sister’s name. A name my father must have given her.
Lilly Tate.
Nausea spirals through me. I move over to my mother and inhale a deep breath. My lungs constrict with grief. My fingers sweep over the cold letters on her grave and goosebumps surface in their wake.
Catherine Lilly Tate.
“You can rest now, Mom. We all can. I love you,” I whisper.
Pain cuts into my throat. Holding back the water building in my eyes, I stand up and my feet whisk me away. I scoop Ali into my arms, bury my face in her neck and hold her tight. The past will always be painful. But it led me down a road that will always take me home. It led me to be right here, in this moment, where I hold my future in my arms—where Ali will stay, where our baby will stay, because this love it can never get lost.
Bottles clink in the door of the mini bar in our hotel room. I zip up the back of my dress and scan behind me in the mirror to find Lindsey pouring two champagnes, and by the looks of it, an orange juice for me.
Sipping on her drink, she sinks into one of the beds with matching bedding. “Ali you’re rocking the baby bump in that dress.”
I check myself out in the mirror, worrying over my growing stomach in this tight black dress. It fits well, comes to my knees. It isn’t completely terrible, but it’s not my usual style. “You think Roamyn will like it?”
Cass wanders out of the bathroom, joining in on our conversation. “Honey you could be wearing a sack and that man would only picture you one way.”
I force myself to leave the mirror for the beautiful view of Las Vegas fifty floors up. “Yeah, and how is that?”
I turn around as Lindsey and Cass share a look. They flick back to me like the answer’s obvious.
“Naked,” they both reply at the same time before breaking laughter.
I flop down on the other bed in the room, which sits beside Lindsey’s, trying not to pout because they look gorgeous in their outfits without a bump in sight. I love my