Page 165 of For Wrath and Redemption
“Consider it done.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye, and though I know it’s likely the last time I’ll ever hear my father’s voice, I can’t find even a sliver of sadness. I laugh and push my phone back into my pocket. What a relief.
I head back upstairs, check on Claire once more, then finish with the baby clothes. I can’t get over how tiny they are. The size of my forearm, and every time I fold one, I picture our daughter in it.
I keep wanting to pinch myself. I can’t get over how lucky I am. My life was on a very different trajectory. I was destined for destruction, and I didn’t care.
I could have died and never known this kind of happiness.
What if they couldn’t revive me after the overdose? What if Sav had never sent me to rehab the first time? What if I’d never toned down my drug use so I wouldn’t get caught again?
Fuck.
What if she’d never dated my father, and he’d never sent her to be my babysitter?
Anything, any split-second decision, could have kept me from her. Just the thought overwhelms me with an onslaught of raw, visceral emotions.
Grief for what I could have lost. Anger for how stupid I’d been. Determination to never fuck it up again.
Foryears, I let my wrath and self-loathing fuel my every move. I hurt people. I said and did terrible things. I pushed myself to the brink of death over and over. I’m not proud of the person I was, but it was that chaotic maelstrom of mistakes that lead me to her, so I can’t regret it entirely. All I can do is vow to be better moving forward. To spend every day earning her love, earning this happiness, and to never take any of it for granted.
I smile.
From struggle to strength.
Fucking Tranquil Waters had it right. I’m definitely getting it tattooed on my neck.
When the last tiny onesie is folded in the dresser, I make my way to the bedroom.
I strip out of my clothes and climb into bed next to the woman I love. And just as I gently wrap my arms around her, she stirs awake.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper into her hair.
Claire hums and turns in my arms, so she’s facing me.
“I had a dream.”
“A good dream or bad dream?”
“A good one.”
“Yeah? What was it about?”
Claire gives me a soft smile. “Names.”
I pull her closer, so her head is tucked under my chin, and I can feel her breath on my neck. I just want to touch her. I want to smell her.
“What have you come up with?”
She presses a kiss to my throat, right on my heart tattoo.
“What about Theodora? After your brother Theo. We could call her Teddy for short.”
The breath is pulled from my lungs, and my next exhale is shaky. I’m once again blinking against the sting of tears. I hadn’t cried in years before breaking into that mausoleum. Now, I can’t seem to stop. The difference now is they’ve been tears of happiness. Not anger. Not dread or despair. Just happiness. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.
“Really? You don’t think it’s too old-fashioned?”
“No. If you like it, then I think it’s perfect.”
