“I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“I know you are, and I love you even more for it. Just trust me. Trust him, okay?”

“I do,” she says without any hesitancy in her voice at all.

“Any more questions?”

It’s like I can feel her mind working up against my chest.

“I want to move here,” she divulges. I hold back my grin.

“Really? I hadn’t thought of that. I would have guessed for sure you would want to go back to Michigan or possibly Canada to finish school.”

She sits straight up in bed, her eyes darting to mine in suspicion of my sarcasm. She adjusts the IV and the rubber cord to her catheter and faces me with a matter-of-fact look.

“Spill, Bexley,” she commands.

Her demanding nature is damn near a turn on. If she wasn’t still healing, I would turn her over my knee and spank her.

“Whatever do you mean?” I say innocently.

She tilts her head, shooting some wicked daggers at me with her eyes. The morning sun is now peeking through. Like I said, my woman is absolutely stunning, even with her hair halfway out of her ponytail and no makeup on. Life is coming back into her eyes. And here I lie hiding the one thing that will dull them.

Finish up this conversation and then tell her. Get it over with.

“I kind of took it upon myself to sort of move us here over the past week,” I admit.

She surprises me by bursting into laughter. It fills the entire room, her bright orbs glistening. Fuck me if I’m not about to crush her.

She abruptly stops laughing as quickly as she started.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” she whispers.

I nod and take a deep breath, preparing myself to tell her.

I reach for her hand, stroking it gently. I can’t look at her, not yet. The doctors said the best way to tell her was to just say it, but the words are lodged in my throat. When I finally do speak, I don’t even recognize my own voice.

“You were pregnant, Calla.”

“I... was?” she asks faintly.

I find the courage to look at her.

“You miscarried, babe.”

“Oh, my God. They didn’t manage to kill me, so instead they killed our unborn child. A baby we never even knew we were going to have.”

She stares at our joined hands, placing them both across her stomach.

“I’m sorry, Cain.”

“Calla, no!”

I sit all the way up, cradling her face in my hands.

“No. It’s not our fault. Losing a baby is a tragedy. Neither one of us knew. We both have to grieve, both together and separately in our own ways. Never think this is your fault or mine. It’s not.”

It damn near kills me to see the pain in her eyes. The silently falling tears.

“I just… I guess I need time to deal with it.”

“Take all the time you need. We’ll get through it together, I promise,” I tell her, resting my forehead against hers.

Her eyes close. The two of stay this way for several minutes, grieving for our loss. She pulls away first, a sorrowful smile on her lips.

“We’re going to be fine,” I whisper.

“Yeah, I know,” she whispers back. “I love you, Cain. I’ve loved you all along. We were apart for so long, both of us changing in so many ways, yet here we are a month later, grieving the loss of a child we will never meet.”

Calla’s eyes conquer mine once again. Hers filled with heat, mine filled with want. Hers dart to my mouth at the same time mine flit to hers. We meet in the middle, our mouths opening up to one another’s.

A lot of information is pouring out of this kiss. I’m telling her that this is the beginning of our new lives together. She’s telling me she trusts me in taking care of our future. Both of us letting the other know how much we have desperately missed each other. This is nothing like the raw kiss we first shared a month ago after seeing each other the first time. This kiss is telling each other that we only have one life and we want to share it. Life is too damn short to not share it with the one you love.

I hold her face gently in my hands as my tongue intertwines with hers. I could kiss her forever. It’s short lived, though, when we are interrupted by the sound of three throats clearing. We break away, Calla’s face beet red.

“Well. I was on my way in here to check on my baby girl since I haven’t had the opportunity to really have a conversation with her yet, but I can see that she seems to be perfectly fine.”

Calla’s brows rise, her spirit lifting slightly when she sees her mom.

“You look beautiful, Mom.”

Calla reaches out her arms to her mother. I get up off the bed. The two of them stay in a long embrace. Cecily inspects Calla, fussing with her pillows and introducing her to the doctor. John and I stand leaning up against the wall, arms crossed. Neither one of us can take our eyes off of the two women before us. Calla needs her mom right now, and she needs to talk to the doctor.

I push myself away from the wall, giving John a glance. He follows me out the door. I say nothing. Neither does he. All of us have known she lost our baby and have had the time to grieve. Now it’s her turn.

***

“There she is!” Lola greets Calla in the kitchen.

“My God, you are the spitting image of your mother when she was your age!”

She leans in, pecking both of Calla’s cheeks.

“I take that as a compliment,” my wife grins. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

I sit back in my chair at the kitchen table, watching Cecily and Lola fuss over Calla as if she were a child. I know she’s itching to get the hell out of here. The doctor told her she had to take it easy for a few more weeks, and then set up a follow up appointment to see her in a few weeks.

She looks great. Perfect. I watch her in awe as she delicately picks at her food. Small portions is what the doctor recommended. She wasn’t too happy about that at all. My girl is craving a cheeseburger, of all things. Knowing her she’ll get what she wants one way or another.

“Excuse us, ladies. Gentlemen, shall we talk in my office?” Salvatore suggests after he greets Calla.

He whispers something in her ear and she nods her head, glancing my way with a wink. I wink back, knowing all too well he feels it’s time to address her. See where her head’s at. As her husband, I wish he would give her more time. I know better than to ask, so I bow out of the kitchen like a dog with my tail between my goddamned legs. My mind reels, not only with worry for her. It’s everything. I’m a thief. I haven’t had my hands on a new gun in a long time. I get off on the way the smooth, cold steel feels when I glide my hands down it. Fuck me. I miss it.

“Manny. What the hell dude? When did you get here?”

We do our usual bro hugging bullshit. He follows us into the office, closing the door securely behind him.

“Just got here. Calla doing all right?”

He nods in my direction when I take a seat. He doesn’t need to ask me if I told her. The true meaning behind his question is captured in his tone.

“Yeah. She is.”

Manny spreads his arms wide jokingly.

“So, what’s up, Dad? Why are we all here?”

“Sit your ass down, punk,” Salvatore says, waving to a chair. “We’re damn lucky, you all know this, right?”

“We do. Any news?” John asks.

“On the whereabouts of Royal? Nothing. He’s vanished. My guess is he’ll be gone for quite some time. I did have a phone conversation with Ivan this morning.”

He looks at John, gauging his reaction. John’s nostrils flare. His hand clenches tightly around his coffee cup.

“And?” John lifts his head, meeting Salvatore’s eyes.

“He knows we have a hit out on Royal. He stands by his word. He knows nothing. He’s insistent that Royal acted on his own. Our families work together on this. Am I clear?”

John goes to speak. You can see the poison running through his veins, feel his need to kill Royal himself. Salvatore silences him. When Salvatore silences you with his hand, you listen, it doesn’t matter whether you’re family or not.