Page 93 of Breaking Free

“Okay, it was a terrible day. Fine. Still, I got you back and gained two kids in the process.”

“I feel like things have been insane since that day—one event after another. I moved Knox and me back here; we got back together, got engaged, found out I was pregnant, got married, moved to the farm.” I lock my fingers between his. “We’re home. There’s absolutely nothing going on. We can relax. I guess I thought we could relax a little longer before you left again. That’s all.”

J.R. sighs a little, and then he moves closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should relax.”

“I want you to be happy, J.R. If you need to write, if you need to go, go.” I rest my head against his shoulder, and then I lay my hand on his thigh. I want to be selfish. I want to hold onto him for as long as I can.

“I’m happy here with my girls,” he says and then kisses my head.

He’s not being honest. Not completely. I can’t dampen his need to write. He might combust if he doesn’t. Creativity can’t be contained, especially when there’s inspiration behind it.

I lift my head and look at him. “You should go. You need to go.”

“Rach.” He sounds unsure.

“I’m serious. This isn’t one of those female traps where I say one thing but mean the other. You need it.” I smile at him.

His blue eyes seem to shine as he smiles back at me. He moves in for a kiss, and then Amia’s crying erupts from the baby monitor. J.R. stops, rests his forehead against mine, and laughs.

I sigh. One would think that we would be used to these interruptions by now. “I’m sure she’s hungry. Again. I swear I feel like I’m only wanted for my boobs.” I stand up from the swing, and J.R. follows me inside.

“I will miss you and the girls, but it’s not like I’m going on tour or anything,” he says, continuing the conversation and following me into Amia’s nursery.

“J.R., it’s fine,” I say, leaning over the crib and scooping Amia up into my arms. “Go.” I try to give him my best smile of reassurance.

J.R. helps me change Amia’s diaper and then leans into the door frame of her room, watching me as I sit in the rocking chair to feed Amia. He doesn’t want to end the conversation yet. Not until he’s certain that I’m okay.

I move my eyes from Amia’s back to J.R.’s, and I smile at him. “We’ll be okay.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“A year ago, I would have never believed that we could get to this. Together again, married, a whole family,” J.R. says thoughtfully, changing the subject.

I look back down into Amia’s blue eyes. “I was pretty sure there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that we would ever get back together.”

“It was in the cards. It’s always been in the cards,” he says. “Even when you were gone, I knew you would come back.”

“How were you so sure?” I ask him.

“I wasn’t really. It was a feeling. Maybe I willed it.”

I lift my eyes to him. “Thank you for loving me through it all.”

“It wasn’t hard.” He smirks. “What is hard is loving someone so much, but also wanting to kill them at the same time.”

Soon, Amia is asleep again, and I tuck her back into her crib. We exit Amia’s room quietly, closing the door behind us. I know that we should probably go to bed ourselves. It’s the middle of the night, and I know I’m exhausted. Still, these late nights with J.R., together and talking about nothing, are few and far between. I don’t want to give it up.

J.R. pulls me against him once we’re in the hall again, and with his hands on my hips, he kisses me deeply. I move my arms around his neck, and I sink into him, moving him against the wall. I feel him smile against my lips, and then he whispers, “Let’s go to bed.”

I nod, returning the smile. J.R. lifts me up in his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist, and he carries me to bed.

***

“Can I go with you to the studio?” Knox asks J.R. He’s throwing a fresh book of blank sheet music in his guitar case, along with his guitar.

He looks down at her as she looks up at him with her big, blue eyes. “Not today, but soon,” he promises.

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