Page 68 of His Untouchable Heart

This wasn’t just a house.

It was the life I didn’t know I was allowed to dream of.

And now, I had both.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

Gabrielle

Ten Months Later

Julian was warm against my chest, his tiny body curled into mine as if he still wasn’t convinced the world beyond my arms was real. He nursed quietly, one of his fingers hooked around the edge of my robe, and I watched the rise and fall of his breath like it was the only thing anchoring me in place.

In some ways, it was.

Everything around us—the soft rocking chair, the freshly painted nursery just beyond the open door, the distant murmur of voices in the grand room downstairs—felt like a dream I’d slipped into and hadn’t quite woken from.

A year ago, I was dodging headlines and foundation board members. I was staying up late with Juliette in a two-bedroom apartment, eating takeout on the floor and pretending everything would work out.

Now, I lived in a mansion with a baby named Julian, a man I loved, and a wedding dress hanging from the closet door.

A soft knock preceded the sudden, unmistakable sound of Juliette flinging the door open with zero regard for volume or dramatic timing.

“Gabrielle!” she hissed, her heels clicking across the hardwood like punctuation marks. “Judge Valencia and his wife just arrived. They’re here. Early. To officiate.”

I didn’t look up.

“They’re in the living room. Anthony’s charming them like some sort of preppy prince, andyou—” she flailed a perfectly manicured hand toward me “—you’re still up here in your robe, breastfeeding like this isn’t the most romantic day of your entire life.”

I raised an eyebrow, shifting Julian a little as he snuggled deeper against me.

“Some things,” I said calmly, “can’t be hurried.”

Juliette made a sound that might’ve been a groan. Or a growl. “Okay, yes, fair, he’s perfect. But your hair isnot.”

I smiled down at Julian. “Go be a good hostess. Pour them some wine. Offer them food. I ordered enough to feed the entire coastline.”

Juliette huffed, tossing her perfume-scented curls over one shoulder as she turned to inspect my wedding dress. It hung from the closet door in its own soft glow—simple and elegant, with delicate lace around the neckline and a train long enough to make me nervous.

She adjusted the hanger, smoothing the bodice like it was already on me.

“You’re going to look like a freaking queen,” she said softly, her tone shifting as she stepped back to admire it. “Like something out of a painting. One of the good ones. Not that creepy Flemish stuff.”

I snorted.

She walked back over and kissed the top of Julian’s fuzzy little head, then patted a stray hair of mine back in place.

“I’ll be back in ten to take the baby and zip you into your magic dress. Don’t move until then—or at least don’t move far.”

“Deal.”

As the door clicked shut behind her and her heels disappeared down the hall, I looked down at Julian again and whispered, “You hear that? I’m marrying your daddy today.”

He sighed, content, and I let the silence settle back around us like a second skin.

Julian had finally drifted off, full and content, swaddled in the bassinet beside my chair. I’d barely finished fastening the clasp of my nursing bra when the bedroom door flew open like a scene change in a Broadway play.

Juliette stood in the doorway, breathless and glowing, eyes wide like she’d just seen the face of a god.

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