Page 85 of Resilient Rhythms
“Cousins,” Mav corrects.
“Cousins,” I agree, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Isn’t it crazy how quickly things change, Mav? From yesterday to today? It feels like my entire life has flipped again. Righted.”
“Mine too,” he says, winding his arm around my shoulders.
“It’s about time you two get married,” Levi says to his sister and Derek. “Look at Mav and Mckenna.”
Mav snorts. “Who ever thought you and I would be held up as the poster couple for marriage?”
“Not me.”
Mav brushes a kiss to the top of my head.
“But I like that we are,” I add.
“Yeah,” Mav agrees. “And we’re just getting started, beauty.”
“I know,” I agree.We’re just getting started.
TWENTY-THREE
MAV
The first Sundayafter learning that Bran is behind bars is one of the best mornings of my life. I breathe easier knowing that Mckenna has peace of mind. A contentment I haven’t felt in so damn long blankets the bedroom as I wake, folding an arm behind my head and dragging my fingertips up and down Mckenna’s arm. She sleeps soundly, her head on my chest, her body curled into my side like a cat.
It’s insane to think that she moved into the brownstone about a year ago. In one year, every aspect of my life has changed for the better. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been worth it.
I breathe in the scent of my beauty, allow my eyes to close, and savor the moment for the simplicity it offers. This, right here, is what people should mean when they talk about wealth. Waking up with a clear mind, with sunlight streaming through the window, the sound of birds chirping outside, and the love of their life in their arms.
I didn’t think life could be this good.
Mckenna stirs beside me. “Hi.”
“Morning, beauty. How’d you sleep?”
“Good.” She yawns. “I feel like I could sleep for eternity.”
“You’re growing a life,” I remind her.
“Yeah, well, lots of women do that and still have to get up and go to work in the morning.”
“True. Fortunately, it’s Sunday.”
Mckenna grins. “That is good. I feel like being lazy.”
“I feel like staying in this bed all morning,” I agree, leaning over her.
Her smile widens as she reaches for me. Her palm slides along my cheek before hooking around the back of my neck. She guides my face to hers and I go willingly, kissing her.
As I hover over her frame, careful to keep my weight off her, I deepen our connection. It’s different today. Lighter, more playful. As my hand skirts up Mckenna’s rib cage, I settle onto my side and my beauty turns into me, slipping one leg in between mine. She clasps my cheek as I run my hand over her belly, still amazed that she’s growing our baby inside.
Our kissing is languid. There’s no rush. No urgency. No sense of trepidation hanging over us. There’s just this moment. Just us.
When my hand caresses Mckenna’s breast, she gasps.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
“Nothing,” she assures me. “It’s just, they’re more sensitive.”
