Page 2 of Betrothed

“Where was I…” I murmured, lifting my plastic cup a little higher. “Next steps can be frightening, but they’re the only way forward, and wherever those steps lead, remember you have the whole of the Blooms family behind you.” My lips pulled into a soft, tight smile. “Cheers.”

“Cheers!” The group saluted and then broke into celebration.

I sipped on sparkling grape juice, as was the house’s tradition. Every milestone. Every graduation. We celebrated with sparkling grape juice and trays of lasagna from Larry’s Lookout, a local favorite restaurant just south of Carmel Cove, named for the man who inspired this whole town and made everyone feel like family.

For the next hour, I made my way through the crowd as it spilled into every room on the main floor of the house, making sure to talk to everyone for the one night every six months that I left my office and my work to socialize. Meanwhile, half the time, my brain tried to drag me back to all the prep work I needed to do for the new residents who’d be arriving the following week.

It was never ending—the influx of women who needed this place and our help. As soon as spots opened up, they were filled. And each time I came out of my administrative cave to celebrate, to watch as the residents who’d come here as broken as my sister finally be able to fearlessly embrace a new life and better future, I was reminded of every reason I did this.For them.

I congratulated the seven of the eight graduates again, hugging them and wishing them well. Out of the eight, Holly, Christina, Michelle, and Kendra were leaving Blooms for their next chapter; the other four—including Kenzie—were staying in the house.

Another six months of being in proximity to her.

I knew the rules. I wrote the damn rules. It was off-the-charts inappropriate to even fantasize about one of our residents, and if there were a way to put my thoughts in handcuffs, I’d do it. Unfortunately, there were no shackles strong enough to restrain my mind from wanting the damn woman.

So, since the day she’d moved in, I’d buried myself in work, continued to avoid most of the social gatherings, and kept all contact to a professional minimum—all of which was no different for me from my norm.

Yet, there was a difference. On the inside, the attraction I felt for her rooted like a seed, and every glance of her was like the fuel of sunshine, every conversation like welcome rain.

But desire could grow all it wanted, I’d sooner let it strangle me than act out of character—out of bounds with a woman who was under my protection.

“Nice job,” my sister’s voice crawled over my shoulder, gripping me with a welcome distraction.

I’d made my rounds and shifted into the far corner of the room, finally eating a small plate of lasagna now that everyone had their fill.

I turned, scraping the last bite together on my fork. “The speeches were better when you gave them.” I shoved the bite into my mouth.

Addy had been the one to give that speech up until four years ago. Between the Blooms non-profit expanding into the city, her role on the board of the Butterfly Foundation, a charity supporting victims of trafficking and domestic violence, and her growing family… hell, she wasn’t my sister; she was a superhero.

Addy rolled her eyes. “Bullshit. I’m always talking; your reserved words of encouragement carry a greater weight. Everyone knows you’re the real guardian angel behind this house.”

I grunted, disagreeing but not in the mood for an argument that would make no difference.

“Does he know?” I changed subjects.

“Dammit.” She folded her arms and gave me a flat stare.

I shrugged. “You only cry when you’re pregnant.”

She was stubbornly silent for another second before rambling, “Can you believe they call it a geriatric pregnancy?Geriatric, Zeke. I’m thirty-eight—we’rethirty-eight. How would you feel if someone called you geriatric?”

I chuckled. “I’ve been called worse.”

She scoffed. “No, you haven’t. You’re a saint.”

I rolled my eyes. I had been called worse, and I hadn’t always been a saint. College. Law school. The Zeke Williams who’d lived on the East Coast during those years had been anything but. He’d been blissfully ignorant and entitled, and he’d learned his lesson. There was nothing more sobering than watching your twin almost die—than knowing that if you’d just been around more, been more involved, more astute—you never would’ve let it get to this point.

I’d lived my life only for myself up until that moment when Ace and I pulled her beaten body out of that burning car. She hadn’t been breathing. We thought we were too late. And like every other person who only resorted to prayer in times of utter desperation, I didn’t just pray for God to save her, I bargained.

If you let her wake up, I swear I’ll never be selfish again. I swear I’ll give the rest of my life to saving others… if you just save her.

And then she’d coughed in Ace’s arms, air filling her lungs just as surely as a weight started to fill mine. Yes, the bargain had been made, but to learn what her fiancé had done… to learn how many other women this happened to—how many who didn’t survive it.How many who had nowhere safe to turn.Forget the bargain, the weight in my chest made it impossible to breathe.

I had to help them. Each woman who came to Blooms was an inhale of oxygen. Each woman who left strong, stable, and empowered, an exhale of relief. It was only by helping them that I was able to breathe.To live.

“And no, I haven’t told him yet because I was just at the doctor’s this afternoon and confirmed it,” Addy said, dragging her fingers through her hair. “I’m going to tell him tomorrow once we’re on the ship—assuming I don’t cancel the cruise first thing in the morning.”

“You have to go,” I ordered.

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