Page 48 of Hawk

“I look at it,” I whispered, brushing her hair off her cheek, “and see everything I’ll ever need.”

Gemma leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine. “You’re everything I never dared to want.”

I kissed her deeper, pulling her close again.

And with her belly snug between us, our hearts beating in perfect rhythm, I whispered against her skin. “Forever, baby. You’re mine. Forever.”

EPILOGUE

GEMMA

The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of my studio, casting golden light over the hardwood floors. The scent of lavender cleaner still lingered faintly in the air from this morning’s tidy-up, and soft jazz played from a speaker in the corner.

I didn’t have any clients today. It was just me and my favorite little assistant who never really helped. Her and the crayons she’d managed to smuggle in from the house.

“Gwinnie,” I called gently. “Please remember that the walls are for looking, not coloring.”

Our daughter didn’t even flinch. She sat cross-legged in front of my desk, surrounded by scattered pinks and purples, her curls bouncing as she turned to grin at me. “Daddy lets me color wherever I want at his office.”

“I’m sure he does,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Our children had their daddy wrapped firmly around their little fingers, and his boss wasn’t much better about enforcing rules when it came to the kids. His or ours.

“Not the wall, Mama,” she said proudly, holding something up.

My stomach flipped when I saw what she’d been drawing on.

“Where did you get that?” I asked, racing over.

She blinked up at me, holding the photo in both hands like it was treasure. And in a way, it was. A black-and-white print, showing a younger version of me in lace lingerie and soft lighting. The only surviving copy from the archive that was stolen all those years ago.

It had been tucked away in the back drawer of my desk. Hidden from prying eyes because my husband would have a fit if anyone else saw it. The one of us together in our bedroom was on the wall because his larger body shielded me, and that was our private space.

“Mama?” she asked again, her voice smaller this time. “Is this you?”

I crouched beside her and gently plucked the photo from her fingers. “Yes, baby. That’s me.”

“Were you sad?”

“No,” I said softly, brushing my fingers over the edge. “I was scared…but brave, too. I didn’t know it yet, but that picture helped me find something really important.”

“Daddy?” she asked with a toothy grin.

I smiled. “Good guess, sweetie.”

“You look pretty.” She leaned her head against my arm. “It should be on the wall, too.”

I kissed the top of her curls. “Daddy gets growly when people see me like that.”

“Like the noise he made when Mr. Marcus said you looked pretty in your new dress?” she asked innocently. “He sounded like a doggie.”

I nearly choked on a laugh. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

My office door creaked open, and that growl in question echoed across the space.

“She better not be touching that damn photo,” Callum muttered as he stepped in, our son right behind him.

“Too late,” I called sweetly.

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