Page 71 of Embrace Me Forever

I adjust my position to see her face better. The couch groans under my weight. I remain silent, giving her the space to continue, though I sense a mix of fondness and pain in her. I keep my expression neutral, even though my insides twist with unease.

She pauses, swallowing hard. A sheen of tears glistens in her eyes. My instincts scream to pull her close, to assure her it’s all right, yet I find myself rooted in place, waiting for more revelation.

“He loved me, and I loved him. But his love for me…it cost him his life,” she whispers, her voice faltering on the last word. It’s as if she’s tearing open a long-sealed wound, exposing its rawness. I understand the burden of such confessions. I’ve faced similar demons with my own haunting past, my own losses.

“He knew about Bertram’s plans to win me back, to use me once more. That night, I told him about the pregnancy. He was overjoyed. I even proposed, and he was eager for us to marry immediately.”

She’d proposed to him? I’m not surprised. It only underscores how much he meant to her. As she recounts this memory, I’m drawn into her words, picturing that moment. How I wish it had been me who brought that kind of joy to her life. How I wish I were the one destined to make her the happiest woman in the world.

Georgia-May continues, “Then, without hashing out any further details, he insisted we leave England for America, a foreign world to him.” She exhales a wistful sigh. “But before we could act, Bertram’s men stormed in. Sebastian managed to smuggle me out, sacrificing himself to confront them. He stood no chance. They shot him.”

The depths of Bertram’s cruelty aren’t lost on me. Taking lives is part of their repertoire, including those of their targets’ loved ones.

Reaching out, I cover her hand with mine. She looks up, a flicker of surprise in her eyes as if she hadn’t anticipated my gesture. In many ways, we are alike. I lost Flo, and she lost Sebastian. I’m a firm believer in second chances because I’ve been granted a few myself. Love isn’t about finding that one perfect person. It’s about understanding and accepting each other’s scars, both old and new.

Tears spill over her lashes, and she lets out a shaky breath as she leans into my touch. “They won’t hesitate to kill you, as you know.”

“I know,” I respond. “Sebastian would have done everything in his power to protect you. I’m not here to overshadow his bravery, but I am determined to stay alive for you.”

“But you look worried,” she notes, her voice tinged with concern. “Has what I told you about Sebastian changed how you feel about me? That I’ve loved someone else before?”

“Sweetheart, I want to be with you, regardless of your past. Not just because I empathize with having a history that’s murky as a marsh. But because it’syou. And yes, you’re right. I’m worried about your safety. The memory of those men trying to drown you in that ice bath haunts me. And now, knowing they’ve taken the life of someone you loved, it terrifies me even more.”

“Blake, I feel the same. I couldn’t bear it if they hurt you.”

In fact, I’m not thinking about myself. I’m thinking about Coco and Anne.

I say, “I’m trained to handle danger. What I wasn’t prepared for was how deeply I’d feel for you. But you know what? That made my decision firm. You and Coco are my family now, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

I pull Georgia-May into my arms, embracing her with all the strength I have. Just as we settle into the comfort of each other’s hold, Poppy’s ‘whoop-whoop’ sound breaks the silence, signaling Coco’s stirrings.

“I’ve got her,” I assure her as I rise.

“Thanks, Blake. I think she’s officially relegated me,” Georgia-May says with a light chuckle.

I lean down and kiss her. “Never. You’re forever her number one, and nothing will ever change that.”

Cradling Coco in my arms, I feel an overwhelming sense of protectiveness swell within me. She’s not just Georgia-May’sdaughter. She’s mine too. And come what may, I’ll stand guard over them both.

24

GEORGIA-MAY

Despite my concern about Blake’s plan to get close to Abner Bertram, I’m heartened by Coco’s progress. Buoyed by a few therapy sessions, she’s rapidly catching up with her peers. Thanks to weekly playdates arranged with the Hartley family and Anne’s occasional visits from Santa Fe, my little girl is blossoming. The social interaction, especially with the Hartley children, seems to be key to her progress. Coco has always been a happy baby, yet in the company of her friends, she thrives.

We make it a point to schedule these gatherings on days when most of the Hartleys are free. Today, Clay and Isabelle are off work, so we’re spending the day at their place. Wyatt, the pilot, is also here, helping us with the increasingly boisterous kids.

“Look at Coco go!” Isabelle exclaims, watching the little tyke commandeer every ball in sight. Despite her wobbly legs sending her tumbling to her knees occasionally, she’s owning the game.

I can’t help but smile at the scene, but my attention shifts when Clay and Blake return from their afternoon run, glistening with sweat. I gulp. I’ve never seen my man—or any man, for that matter—so thoroughly marinated in sweat.

Isabelle leans in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Just between us, a bit of sweat can be quite the aphrodisiac,” she whispers.

I eye Blake’s drenched figure skeptically. While Clay signals his retreat indoors, likely for a much-needed shower, Blake heads straight for me.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets, arms open wide for a hug.

I take a step back, and right then, I decide perhaps there is such a thing as too much sweat. “Blake!” My voice pitches high.

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