Page 100 of His to Destroy

Downstairs, the house feels different now.

Softer.

Heavier with meaning.

Gaspare doesn’t say a word—he just takes my hand and leads me to the couch.

I sink into the cushions with a grateful sigh, my body aching in that heavy, contented way that only love and exhaustion can bring.

He joins me a second later, pulling me gently into his lap, cradling me like I’m something precious.

I curl into him easily, my arms wrapping around his neck, my face tucked into the warm space between his jaw and shoulder.

We sit like that for a long time.

No words.

No expectations.

Just breathing each other in.

Outside the windows, the last of the sunlight fades, leaving only the soft glow of the lamps and the crackle of the fireplace Gaspare lit earlier.

I run my fingers lightly over the back of his neck, feeling the slight roughness of his hair where it curls against his skin.

"You know," he murmurs into my hair, "this is everything I never thought I could have."

I pull back slightly to look at him.

His eyes are shadowed with something deep—something raw and beautiful.

"I never thought I deserved it," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "Not after everything."

I press my palm to his cheek, forcing him to meet my gaze.

"You fought for this," I whisper. "For us. For him. You built this with your own hands. You deserve every second of it."

A shaky breath escapes him.

"You gave me a family," he says quietly. "You gave me a reason to believe I could be more than the life I was born into."

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.

"You are more," I tell him fiercely. "You’re everything."

His arms tighten around me, holding me as if letting go might break the world.

"I love you, Almeria," he whispers against my forehead. "I love you more than I know how to say."

"You show it," I breathe. "Every day."

I press my hand to my belly, feeling a faint, fluttering kick.

"Our family’s just getting started," I whisper.

He smiles, the kind of smile that lights up his whole face, that makes my chest ache with how beautiful he is when he lets himself be happy.

"I can’t wait to meet him," he says, his hand sliding over mine.

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