Page 133 of Bastian

He kisses me softly and then looks down at my stomach. You can’t really tell that I am pregnant with the long sleeve oversized shirt, but you can feel the tiny bump. “What will you do?”

“Do you really want to know?” He asks.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t. Tell me.”

“I’ll make him and whoever else was involved wish they never pulled that trigger.”

“Good.” I hiss. I usually don’t wish innocent people ill, will but this time I made an exception.

We both stand there grinning like two comic book villains… Oh, what a match made in purgatory we are.

“You are vicious, darling.” He smiles arrogantly at me while gently rubbing my stomach. He’s so whipped for this kid already.

“I am.” It’s true. I am ruthless and vicious when it comes to the people I care about, now more than before, because I no longer feel trapped. I have a voice and the means to fight back.

His eyes turn soft then he steps back from me and looks around. “The nursery is coming along beautifully.”

“It is…” I say proudly, waiting for him to notice the new addition. Suddenly becoming nervous because what if I overstepped? What if he doesn’t want the painful reminder?

I hold my breath, staring as he has his back to me, looking at the three large frames hanging in a straight line on the wall that’s in front of the baby’s crib.

The frames hold three photos.

One is a portrait of Sebastian and Ella.

The other photo is of the three of us, plus Benjamin in Paris.

The last one, though.

The last one I recruited Benjamin to help me with this because I could not for the life of me find a picture of them.

It is a family portrait of young Sebastian, at maybe six or seven years old, dressed in a full suit, looking dashing as always, while his parents, Vivienne and Ronan Kenton, embrace him lovingly.

When I look at that image of the three of them, I feel the love they all had for each other.

I see what true love and family is…

I see what I never had until Sebastian.

I stand there looking at him as he remains silent for a second too long before he turns his head and looks back at me with a look that freezes me in place. Then he abruptly turns, giving me no time to prepare before he takes me into his arms and seals his mouth over mine, taking every single breath and keeping it for himself.

When he pulls away, his eyes shine bright like two stars. “You’re incredible. Thank you…” He says roughly, his tone holding many emotions.

Instead of agreeing with him, as I would normally, I tell him. “I was thinking…if we indeed have a baby girl, we could name her after your mother.”

“Vivienne…” he breathes out smiling from ear to ear.

Vivienne Kenton.

Named after the woman who gave so much love to her only son. The son who grew up to become the man I love most in this world.

I thought long and hard of names for girls one night while I was watching as he slept. Somehow, it never occurred to me to think of boys’ names.

But then Vivienne came to mind, and when I researched the name, it sealed the deal.

Vivienne derives from the French word Viviana meaning ‘lively.’ From the Latin word Vivianus–meaning “alive.”

Perfect for the little human growing inside of me.

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