Page 151 of Mangled Memory
“As if your genes wouldn’t want to be dominant, even in utero. You can barely let me ride you, much less?—”
He leans in and kisses me deeply, grabbing my neck, as his thumb strokes my jaw.
“I have no problem with you riding me, Ayla,” he growls against my lips.
“So long as you’re in control,” I whisper back.
He shrugs.
“So your super-sperm will probably trump everything aboutmy genetics, and we’ll end up with Christian clones and we’ll have pregnancy scares until the kids are thirty.”
“We only have to worry about the girls if they look like you.”
“Well played, Honey. Well played.” I wink.
“I’m serious. What happens if we have a girl who looks like you? She can’t date until she’s thirty? I think that’s fair. Are chastity belts still a thing?”
“Whatever you do for her, we’ll do for the boys too.”
He looks stricken. “But?—”
“But nothing. We’re equal opportunity people. If the boys get to be players, so do the girls.”
His face is priceless. I’d say he’s stuttering but no words are coming out. “You can’t say the boys can be man whores while the girls are on some purity protocol.”
“We can’t have girls then. I’ll never make it.”
“But you want me to deal with pregnancy scares from our boys?”
“So no girls and no boys. Got it.”
“And here I was just hoping we’d not shame one sex for what we celebrate in the other. But if you want no boys and no girls, so be it.” My voice is sing-songy. I can’t imagine not carrying his babies. I can’t imagine not having a brood that looks just like him, or the best parts of both of us. But we’ll see. “I guess we’ll just have to get a dog.”
“If you say so, Princess.” He rises from the chair and extends a hand to me for my coffee cup. “I’ll start the dishwasher and be right back.”
I hand over my mug and breathe in the peace of this place, sad that we have to go soon. “You almost ready?” I shout over my shoulder.
“Not quite.” His voice is closer than I expect.
He comes back onto the porch with a legal envelope and takes a seat. “We never did talk about Aspen & Evergreen…” He extends the folder to me. Inside is a smaller envelope.
It’s labeled with the shop’s name. I flip open the brads and slide out what remains of the contract I left on the kitchen islandbefore shit hit the fan. It’s torn in half and half again. My brows furrow.
“I reject your proposal.” He leans back in his chair and levels me with his eyes. “Watching your success is a dream come true for me. I appreciate the gesture, but that’s the reward for your ambition and hard work. You deserve everything you’ve earned. Nothing I did made it the success it is. That was all you.”
It was a gesture. I couldn’t think of anything more significant to offer of myself to show him I meant it when I’d said I loved him.
“Thank you. I am so proud of what it’s become.”
“You’d be successful in any arena you set your mind to. Your passion and energy married with your smarts is a winning combination.”
I let the praise wash through me. To hear those words, and from someone who kicks ass in business, fills me up.
I slide the smaller envelope into the larger one but meet some resistance. Peering inside, I see another envelope I hadn’t noticed before.
This one says simplyAyla Barone.
I’m not prepared for what I find inside. It’s paperwork negating any need for guardianship and requesting reinstatement legally. My therapist, Joanie, has included a letter of recommendation, as has my physician. Lastly, Christian has documented why he took the drastic measures to start and why he feels those circumstances no longer play into my fitness.
