Page 117 of Almost Paradise

Her father called my mother, begging us to talk to the district attorney and say it was a misunderstanding. He promised to send her to the west coast for treatment, but my mother knew better than to make promises on my behalf. Besides, unlike my father, my mother loves her grandson.

“Daddy, look!” Carter pulls on my pant leg the moment I step inside the penthouse. I pick him up and hug him. He points to Pixie, who is looking out the window and jumping. I guess rain makes this dog jump, and I remind myself to punch Langley in the throat next time I see him. The dog pissed in Carter’s room and chewed his favorite Spiderman Crocs. “Uncle Yangley says he has toys for Pixie.”

“Hey,” Nia says from the kitchen. “I made lunch.” That instantly puts me on notice. The woman can’t boil water. “I know what you’re thinking. What I mean is, I warmed up the lasagna that my mom dropped off a few hours ago.” She takes Carter from me and puts him down. He runs away, probably to avoid eating any food his mother touched. Pixie follows him.

I pull Nia into my arms and wrap them around her. “I missed you,” I say into her ear. “Let’s not leave this house again until Monday morning.”

“Well, I’m working from here until Carter’s comfortable with the nanny.” The nanny starts in one week, and we’ve decided Carter will remain at home until he starts preschool in the fall.

“Let’s climb into bed until then at least.”

Chapter 69

Nia

“You warmed this up all by yourself without burning the house down?” Drake asks. He’s standing at the kitchen counter looking at the perfect lasagna I pulled out of the oven. “And why is your mom still cooking for you? That’s my job now.”

“Oh hush,” she says. “Mom made one for Ray and his boys, so she made one for us too.” I pour us each a glass of wine. “And for your information, I can cook three things now. My mom taught me when I was pregnant with Carter.”

“And what are those three things?”

“I can actually make lasagna. I can also make pancakes and brownies, both from a box.” I smile, proud of myself for my efforts.

He puts a hand to his chest and sighs dramatically. “There’s no way on earth you can make lasagna. No way. Remember that salmonella on a plate you served me?” he reminds me.

“Oh, get over it.” I swat his chest. “Carter already had lunch, so it’s just you and me. I hope that’s okay.”

He grabs my chin and kisses my lips. “You do not know how to make brownies either,” he teases.

I leave him standing there and grab a Tupperware bowl on the other side of the kitchen. I open it to reveal the brownies I made for Carter while he was gone. He takes one and bites it.

“It’s good. You mean to tell me that you measured oil and cracked an entire egg yourself?” I pretend to take the brownie from him, but he shoves the entire thing in his mouth.

After setting the table, Drake dims the lights, and we sit for lunch.

“Wow,” he says after taking two bites. “This is good. You are so spoiled.”

I roll my eyes at him. “That’s never going to change, but how did it go?” I finally ask him. When he told me this morning about his plans to see Scarlett, I didn’t try to talk him out of it. I encouraged him to go and get things off his chest.

“As you’d expect.” I listen while he tells me about his conversation with her and shake my head in disbelief at her reasons for starting a fire and taking our son. I’m satisfied though, that for now, she’s where she belongs. “Enough about that. We’ll have to deal with that soon enough, but I was thinking about something else.” He puts his hand in the middle of the table and I put mine in his. “How about we get married?”

“Paradise, we’re already married, remember?”

“By a judge in a courthouse. I was thinking of a big church wedding. The kind where I wait for you at the altar while your father walks you down the aisle. The kind with fanfare, family, friends, and the most handsome best man slash ring bearer.” My heart stops at his words. I look into his clear blue eyes, and he holds my stare.

“I want to wear something strapless,” I say, and he grins. “But does that mean you want to wait to get pregnant?”

“Why would I want to wait?”

“I don’t want to be a pregnant bride,” I admit. “And you want a big wedding, so that will take time to plan.”

“We set a date for next fall. That’s about fifteen months away. We’re going to Berlin next month. I put a baby in you then, and he or she will be born months before our wedding.”

“What if it takes time for me to get pregnant?”

“Baby girl, we made the most perfect boy without even trying. I’m positive we can get the job done. I’m going to put a girl in you this time.” He puts a hand on my stomach and taps it.

I get up from my seat and sit on his lap. He wraps his arms around me. “Yes to a baby and yes to a wedding. Yes to everything.”

---