Page 32 of Manhattan Heart

Noah is in the kitchen with their other two kids, Theo and Lachlan.

They’re like super parents having three babies under three and Sena round again with their fourth. I shudder thinking of only having one.

“Oh my god,” she squeals, seeing the pups laying at Noah’s feet. “We have puppies!”

“Calm down, kitten. We are not getting dogs. They came with India.”

I introduce my sulking best friend to the boys and she’s instantly smitten.

I guess we love each other’s kids.

Best friends are weird and wonderful people and I adore mine.

I stay in the Fierro household for a couple of hours. Noah feeds me coffee and crusty toast and Sena and I gossip like always.

Before I round up the boys, who have been tiny furry angels at my feet, I catch Noah mid-way on a phone conversation and my heart rolls over with love knowing who he’s talking to.

“No, she’s fine now, man, Sena made sure of it. Of course we will. Anything you need just let us know.”

Our men folk gossip as much as we do.

And I love our friend circle.

C H A P T E R 9

India

It’s the day.

It doesn’t feel like only two days ago Gray told me he needed surgery.

I feel like we’ve climbed mountains of emotions in the interim and here it is.

D-day and my nerves are shot to hell.

I’m calm and yet hellish frantic inside with nervous energy.

There was no way I was sleeping last night. And it seems Gray felt the same because we spent most of the night curled up facing each other in our bed just talking quietly and me etching every inch of his face with my greedy eyes.

Just before three, he fell asleep and I lie there, with my heart in my throat, praying to every God I’ve never acknowledged before, bartering deals just to keep my husband on the earth with me.

I climb out of bed around 5 am, it was useless staying there when my bones and nerve endings are jittery to move. So I go through my yoga routine, feed and walk the pups, play with them for a while and then Gray finds me out on the balcony right as the sun is cresting in the sky.

The sheer act of walking across the cold ground toward him, of moving one foot after the other gave me something else to think about other than the ever present haunting need to cry my eyes out.

His two hands slide around my waist from behind and he kisses the back of my neck. “Morning, baby. Did you get any sleep?”

“A little.” I lie, just so he won’t frown.

“Liar,” he chuckles as I turn around in his arms.

He doesn’t look worried at all for today and it’s his chest being fiddled with.

“How are you feeling?”

“Got my woman in my arms, there’s no better feeling than that.”

I half laugh and tug on a wild stray of hair at the side of his head. “Smooth talker.”

---