The Vows We Break - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,76
up beside her, and inform her, “Your mom called.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Why?”
“To remind you about tomorrow’s appointment.”
“I’m fine.”
I have to laugh. “I know you are. But let’s just confirm it.”
Her nose wrinkles harder, but she nods.
There’s no way in hell she isn’t going in for her checkup, but I get it. She hates the MRI machine, and I can’t blame her.
We found out she was pregnant pretty early on when I first left the priesthood, and it was at a bad time. She had some health issues that necessitated her staying in the hospital for a month or so, needed another round of surgery, but I used that time to help us get to know one another.
As much as I felt sure we were destined to be together, fated, I needed her to be sure.
Needed her to know what she was tying herself to.
A homicidal maniac with parasomnias who would kill to keep her safe, who would slay all her demons to protect her.
One dog, two different houses, three children, and four years later, that hasn’t changed. What has? My hair. It’s speckled with gray from the toddler spawn.
“You’re thinking hard.”
My smile deepens as her words have me shooting her a look from under my lashes. The girls are cuddled against me on the sofa, and Grayson is a true genius—his head is propped on her breasts.
For us, this is quiet, and I love it.
I never expected to have it, and it’s all the more precious for it.
“Not thinking hard, just thinking about things.”
“Good things?”
My eyes twinkle. “Is there anything but good in this world of ours?”
She beams at me, and I know I just made her happy.
We don’t lead a regular lifestyle.
I don’t go out to work, neither does she. We raise our kids, and her royalties pay the bills, and we just live.
No walls, no locks, no rat race.
Our house is deep in the countryside with more open space around it than we know what to do with. It’s a running farm and we pay people to keep it going, but I do my bit. Being outside, working the land? It’s probably the best therapy out there for a man like me.
My father-in-law doesn’t approve, but he’s an army man. Solid, stolid. He thinks I’m taking Andrea for a ride, and little does he know I am, just that it’s the ride of her life.
Beyond the sofa where she’s seated, at her back, is a bay window that overlooks the rolling fields that all belong to our family.
It’s a quiet life, even if things have gotten a little crazier since Andrea released this last book. She told me once that she missed writing, but it had never flowed for her since her surgery, so when she started plotting, I’d been happy for her.
Until she told me what she was writing.
Talk about merging the past with the present, and in a way that endangered us.
But my job in this life?
To make her happy.
To make sure that she’s fulfilled in all things, so watching her write again was a gift.
I don’t think she expected it to be successful, don’t think she thought it would do well, but here she is, signing up with production companies with new awards on her office desk.
I’m proud of her.
More than she will ever know.
“I like that smile on you,” she whispers. “Like it even better if I could taste it,” she purrs, switching to Italian.
The smile she wants to taste darkens, and I murmur to the girls on my lap, “Nap time.”
Ten years later
Andrea
I slip my hand into Xavier’s and he squeezes. Hard enough to make me realize he’s feeling more than he’s showing.
Not that it comes as a surprise, considering what’s happening.
Xavier and his father never really reconnected after he left Italy for the States. Not because he didn’t try. We all did. We bought a place about twenty minutes away from the town he grew up in after Priest hit movie theaters, and we made sure to spend time here every year.
It’s easy to have freedom when you homeschool your kids, which we do. They’re standing with us beside their grandpapa’s graveside, tears rolling down their faces for a man who let them in, but never really reconnected with his son.
I’m not sure why, to be honest. We’re closer to Xavier’s mother, and that’s evident in how Grayson’s arm is curved around Lilith’s waist and his head is tilted onto her shoulder.
He’s a somber little man for a thirteen-year-old, unlike his more