“You saved her.” Marjorie’s voice is skeptical.
“He saved me, Momma.” Ember pleads. “Would you at least try? If not for me, for Coco?”
The woman exhales deeply and holds up her hands. “I can’t make any promises.” Tension ripples through my girl, but her mother isn’t finished. “Still… I might try. For Colette.”
Ember’s body melts against me. She starts to laugh. “Oh, Momma…” she groans. “I guess that’s something.”
I pull her to me, holding her, hugging her. Her mother drifts away, toward the party, but we stay where we are.
Whether her mother succeeds or not, I know our love covers the sins of the past.
When we touch, the hurts are healed. The dream changes from darkness and fear to a story of fantasy and rescue, of pirates finding magical mermaids, of two hearts uniting in an unbreakable bond no ancient bitterness or hurt can break.
When we touch the dream comes true.
Epilogue
Ember
Many months later
Jackson Cane is salt-water kisses, happy days in the sun, and great sex.
When he paints, his long fingers twist in the back of his hair, right at the base of his neck, and he tugs.
Tugs…
Tugs…
I like to slide my tongue along his jawline and nip the lobe of his ear with my teeth.
Then I’ll give his hair a tug.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that in front of the children.” His low voice ripples to me through the ocean breeze and I laugh.
“How is Mommy looking?” A little brown head pops up, and I lean down to kiss her button nose.
“Like Daddy is a Purple Monster Number Four cupcake.”
“Daddy is not a cupcake.” Coco snorts and resumes her pose.
It’s possible my hormones have me a little more interested in sensual delights these days. We’re sitting on the sand with the waves crashing behind us. I’m one with the sea, the sand, and the moon.
Two days ago, Jackson stretched a canvas, only this time the painting is different. This time I hold a sparkling little mermaid in my lap. She rests her soft cheek on my growing stomach. Her palm is flat against my skin, and it’s as if she’s listening to what’s happening inside—the sound of a heartbeat, a song of a little girl, perhaps the call of a brother…
Just like before, his eyes move along the sweep of my neckline. Blue eyes follow the curve of my lips. His gaze is so intense, it’s like a touch on my shoulder. It’s hot as a firecracker, it melts my insides.
When his eyes trace the curve of his baby in my stomach, we share a secret smile. I’ve barely started to show, and he wants to add to it, make it bigger. Artistic license, he says.
Coco becomes restless. She doesn’t like sitting in the same position for so long. She gets cranky, and we pack up to return to the cottage.
We’ve made it through the darkness. Our lives are officially one, and he’s even started the paperwork to adopt Coco. Brandon was more than happy to let that happen.
My mother is trying.
It’s the best I can say, but I suppose it’s saying a lot.
As time has passed, I’ve tried to put myself in her shoes and imagine how I would feel if I lost the love of my life and my daughter on the same night, if I also lost my best friend, who was running away and taking them from me. I can at least grasp the concept of that root of bitterness. I can see the need to hide away in status and power and bending everyone to her inexorable control.