“Kind of? Ya think?” Belle gave me a sarcastic look, still in shock, pulling away from me while patting my shoulder to show me she wasn’t mad. “We all know where it’s going now, and let me tell you, people called your brothers, who then told their wives, who told your parents. Needless to say, no one’s happy you kept it such a secret. They’re suspecting you’ve been lovers all along. The entire ten years you’ve known each other.”
Let them think that, I thought.
In a way, it was true.
Sam and I were always lovers.
Even when we didn’t speak or touch each other at all.
That night, I went home with Sam. It was only when we entered his apartment that I realized that the place felt completely and irrevocably mine. Somewhere down the line, his place had become my home. It housed my clothes, my shoes, my toiletries, and the man I love.
Still in a daze, I walked around the living room, brushing my fingers over the minimal furniture, the bare walls; I knew there was a good chance our house was never going to have any art in it, no paintings, no beloved vintage knickknacks to fill the place with personality and warmth. I was oddly okay with that. With the loss of art in the name of love.
I was facing the window overlooking Boston’s cityscape, sparkling in the nighttime like masses of tiny stars, when I heard Sam’s voice behind me.
“Don’t turn around. Stay like that.”
I did.
Our phones were both blowing up with calls all the way from Badlands.
At first, we shoved them into my purse, but when that didn’t help, and the buzzing and lit screens kept taunting us, we turned them off completely. I was pretty sure my brothers and parents were fully intending to knock this door down any minute now, only they couldn’t because they didn’t know where Sam lived.
I found that little fact strangely liberating.
The irony of living somewhere my parents couldn’t find me, after being under their thumb for so long.
His footsteps pressed down on the floor underneath us. I felt him stop right behind my back. He took my left hand while I was still facing the window, sliding a ring onto my ring finger. My breath caught, and my heart stuttered, the unreliable monster that it was.
“Don’t look yet,” he whispered into my ear. I nodded, waiting.
He dropped a kiss to the crown of my head, and I felt dizzy with pleasure.
“Sam,” I breathed.
“Yes?” he asked, catching the zipper of my dress, sliding it down seductively.
I cleared my throat. “I want children.”
He stopped unzipping me. I found my voice again. I couldn’t not talk to him about it.
“I know you are not a fan, but I want them very much. Is this going to be a problem for us?”
Holding my breath, I waited. After a few seconds, he resumed the work of undressing me, sliding the zipper down all the way. The dress pooled at my feet like a shimmering lake of burgundy blood and glitter.
“No.” His lips skimmed the hollow of my neck. “I will give you children, if you quit your job. Do something legal, Aisling. I cannot bear the idea of something happening to you.”
I swallowed hard, closing my eyes.
My patients were so dear to me.
Their well-being, supporting them meant everything.
But he was right. If someone caught me, I’d be locked up for life.
Becoming a mother and doing something so dangerous simply didn’t go together. Especially since my future children’s father had a less than respectable job, too. Someone would have to be their anchor. The reliable parent who goes out to work and comes back every day, no matter what.
I felt my eyelids drooping.
“I’ll tell Dr. Doyle tomorrow.”
“Good girl.” He kissed my cheek, unfastening my bra. “Now take a look at your ring.”
I turned around to face him, wearing nothing but my underwear and the ring. I blinked at it. A gasp of shock and pleasure escaped me. I looked up to Sam with eyes full of tears.
“Troy gave Sparrow a ring with a blood red diamond. It reminded him of her hair. I wanted to do the same, but when I think of you, I don’t think about your hair. I think about those eyes. They taunt me. The absolute blueness of them.”
He took my hand and kissed the ring, a huge halo ring of diamonds surrounding the center stone—an emerald-cut octagon-shaped sapphire. I kissed it, too, laughing and crying at the same time.
“You were going to win all along, weren’t you?” I whispered, referring to our blackjack game. “You knew you were.”
He cupped my cheeks, pulling me to him.
“I was never going to lose you, Ash. That wasn’t in the cards, or on the table, or part of the agenda. You were always going to be mine. You had to have known that.”