Page 85 of When Sinners Rise
“What? Why?”
My face softens. It isn’t that I don’t want to help her, but some things are sacred as fuck, and this is one of them. “You’re the only one that gets me down an aisle, Wren. I’m only walking it once.” Everything about her rage calms down, and she stares like she didn’t expect that to come out of me. “You understand what I’m saying? I’m never walking an aisle without you coming down it for me.”
Her mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. “I didn’t … think about that. You’ve never mentioned anything about marriage.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t understand what you mean to me. I’m not playing pretend with something like that. It’s fucking rude.”
She’s still staring at me in shock. Don’t know why. She’s my fucking world. If she doesn't know it by now, we’re screwed.
“You want to get married?”
I sigh and take her hand, pulling her over to the sectional so we can sit. “Yeah.”
“I’m …. I don’t know what to say.”
I look away from her towards the dark windows. “See, this is the goddamn problem. You ever thought about how hard it is to ask a wedding planner to marry you? I’ve had a ring on me for the last eight weeks, Wren, and every goddamn time I tried to find the right words or-” Her hand grabs my face and turns me, lips crashing into mine. They land hard, and she pushes her body over me until she’s astride me and hitching up her skirt.
“God, I love you,” she says between breaths. My hands find her ass and pull her in closer as she pulls her face back to look at me. “You could have asked me anywhere. Any moment.” She tugs at her top, stripping it off her and tossing it aside. “I would have said yes anywhere. I might plan fairy tales, but that’s not what I want. I want you, Dante. I need you.”
“Yeah?”
“How do you not know that?” I look down at her chest, licking my lips, and shrug. “You’re so bloody stupid sometimes. But, you know, just for prosperity’s sake, ask properly.”
“Will it get me some ass?”
She smiles. I smile.
Yeah, we’ll do that another time.
EPILOGUE
KNOX AND PEYTON
Watching my son sleep without a worry in the world is becoming something I savour every minute of. He breathes easily as if this world we’ve brought him into is filled with wondrous things for him to find. I suppose it is, but it’s also filled with everything I am.
As is he.
I’ve wondered, day after day, who he’ll be as he grows. I don’t even know if my own dispassionate resolve as a human is based in my gene pool, or in this gift I’ve been given, or if I’ve been formed by the circumstance of my life. It doesn’t help me understand who he’ll be yet. Are we moulded, or are we already us because of the very genetic factors embedded in us? I guess we’ll find out, in time.
His hands and arms are over his head as he sleeps, chest wide open to all and any threat. Peyton says that’s because he’s content. I say it’s because he’s daring any asshole to come try taking him on. Whatever he is, or will be, he’s a Cortez. He’ll damn well know how to defend himself as soon as he’s able to learn.
Smiling at the thought, I lift my hand from his stomach and back away to sit in the cane chair. Peyton’s sleeping, resting while she can, and while she does that, it’s just me and him and this light, warm breeze coming from the sea. I look around the old place from my position under the canopy out of the sun and breathe a long, slow sigh of relaxed energy.
My eyes fall closed, and I listen to the lapping shore alongside small breaths from Cade’s mouth. They’re rhythmic, soothing. Fucking exhausting, in all honesty. Why didn’t anyone mention how much kids need feeding and calming and rocking? He barely sleeps at night, and what he does manage is corrupt of true peace. I snort to myself and open my eyes again. Does any Cortez sleep at night? No, that’s the time we thrive in. We prowl in that dark, and we enjoy the torment it provides for others. Maybe that’s the sign I need to tell me exactly who he’s going to be.
“Why don’t you go to bed?” Peyton’s voice says from somewhere. Her hands land gently on my shoulders, and she slides them down my chest until she’s leaning on me. “I can take over for now.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You’ve barely been off your laptop for the last two days, and as nice as it is for you to let me rest, you need sleep, too. We’re supposed to be on vacation.”
Cade takes that opportunity to grumble and squirm.
“It appears Cortez men do not need to sleep,” I murmur.
Her fingers drag up my chest until she’s standing and walking over to his crib. “They do, Knox. However, they also need to eat. Did you notice how I woke up just before he did? Do you think that’s a me and him thing, or a him and me thing? I need to research that. Does he wake because I did, or did I because he was about to?”
“Pretty sure he smelt his mama.”
