Page 65 of Cayden

She nodded as she cuddled up to him. “Say I am ninety-nine and dying, with my last breath, I would perhaps give consent to you marrying another woman. She could not be less than eighty years old though.”

His laughter rang out and her smile was wide.

“Ninety, huh?”

She nodded. “How old did you think I would say?”

“Fifty?” He ventured and winced as she poked him in the chest.

“I have every intention of living until the children are finished with college and married. I want to be a ripe old age grandma or even a great grandma and you had better be there next to me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His hand drifted to her cheek, expression tender. “That’s my desire as well.”

“Good.” She turned her head in the palm of his hand and closed her eyes. “I am so happy and because I am, I want that for him as well. He truly loved my mom, when I looked back at their lives, I could see where they were perfect for each other. They never went to bed mad at each other and she put up with his absentmindedness.”

“Our marriage is far from perfect.” He pointed out.

Her gaze was melting as she wrapped herself around him. “Who wants perfection?”

Chapter 16

“Has everything been arranged?”

“It has.” Marianne assured him, a smile playing around her lips. “It’s enchanting to see how nervous you are.”

“I want everything to be perfect.” He muttered. “It’s her birthday and the last several months hadn’t been good to her.” They both lapsed into silence as they recalled the accident. The babies had just reached their two months mark and since it was the height of summer, his wife had wanted to celebrate.

She had taken them for a drive, telling the nannies that she could manage, and she did not need them. It was only a drive to the park and back, unaware that a reporter had been tailing her.

Ever since the article had come out, with their picture on the front page of Multiples Quarterly, a magazine introduced by Romano’s baby department – they had been bombarded with requests to pose for different magazines.

The picture had garnered more than its fair share of interests – it was an unposed photo that had been taken as a joke by Clive and showed them propped up on mountains of pillows, with the babies in the middle.

Monique had been delighted by the photo when she saw it and had begged for permission to use it. Little did they know that it would blow up all over the internet.

In his haste to follow her, the reporter had run the red light and cut her off at the intersection, sending her over and into a ditch. Fortunately, the injuries had been mostly to her and the babies had only been frightened.

But it had frightened her so much, she had not set foot inside a vehicle, not until last week when she went to her dad’s wedding. Suffice it to say that the reporter had been charged and was no longer working at the magazine. The editors claimed that the man had been acting on his own.

Pushing back his chair, Cayden strode over to the cabinet to pour himself a drink. Even thinking about the near calamity turned his insides into liquid.

He had been in a meeting when he received the call from the officers on scene. He had stood there, unsure what to do and Clive had stepped up and offered to drive him. The sight of the vehicle in the ditch had made him weak.

It took him several days to recover. Thoughts of what could have happened had him waking up in a cold sweat most nights. He could have lost his entire family, and it still managed to turn his blood to ice.

“She thinks that I blame her.”

“That’s nonsense.”

He smiled at his mother’s practical response.

“I do. Up to a point. She knew that I would never have approved of her taking out the babies on her own. Even if she was just going for a drive.” He took a sip of the scotch. “I was pissed. After the initial fear had slowed down, I was royally pissed. What in the hell was she thinking?”

“The blame is not hers, darling, and it’s unfair to place it there.”

He shrugged. “Tell that to my subconsciousness. I keep picturing her and my children dead. Just lying there in a pool of blood.”

He took another sip, this time a longer one. “But you are right. I have been upset with her and things have been uncomfortable between us. She knows I am angry, and she blames herself. I have to do something to make it up to her.”

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