Page 122 of Devious Lies

I snuggle into his embrace, amazed and not by how easily he bears my weight.

Luc is strong. Like really strong. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel safe.

I’ve been running for so long. It feels great to finally be free. To not have that threat hanging over my head.

“What’s that look for?” Luc asks after we’re both inside the car.

He pulls out of the parking spot after double checking that I’m buckled in for safety, and I can’t take my eyes off him.

“Just thinking how lucky I am,” I say, honestly.

“Oh yeah, and how’s that, Mrs. Batiste?”

Christ, I love it when he calls me that.

“I have you, don’t I?” I tease, but I mean every word.

He turns his steel gaze to mine, and I swear my breath whooshes right out of my lungs.

He is so damn handsome.

“You got me, Baby Girl. Me and no one else for life.”

“Why would I ever want anyone else?” I ask him.

“Mmm.”

My quiet man hums in agreement and kisses my knuckles before placing them with his on the gearshift.

Then he drives us home, and he doesn’t let go the entire way there.

I really am the luckiest woman I know.

EPILOGUE TWO-LUC

Maria conked out on the way home, and I place her down on our bed, covering her with a light throw blanket before I start heating up the pot of pozole rojo her mother sent over that morning courtesy of her new man, Joe Palermo.

He seems to be a permanent fixture in her life now, and she looks good. Maria’s mother that is. I am thrilled for them both. Happier still that my wife is happy for them.

The pozole smells incredible and I open the containers with all the toppings one at a time as I lower the heat to simmer.

I look in on her and it’s like she can feel the weight of my stare.

My body responds instantly, and I should feel like a lecher, but I don’t.

She took a shower earlier this morning. But I’ve been banged up before and I know there is nothing like bathing in your own home after so many days of being confined to a hospital room.

“Come on,” I whisper, kissing her sweetly.

She doesn’t resist me. And I fucking love her ready submission.

I have the water flowing, and all I need to do is kick off my sweats and remove her pajamas.

I do both, carefully. Then, I place her on the shower stool I ordered earlier this week.

“But I can stand,” Maria says, and she looks confused.

I don’t speak yet. My heart is beating me to death, and words can’t do this moment justice.

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