Page 61 of Entangled By You
And in the crook of my arm, she sleeps. Her little chest rises and falls, her lips puckering as if she’s dreaming of nursing. I trace the soft line of her cheek with my fingertip, memorizing her.
My throat tightens.
Life has a way of chewing you up, spitting you out, and dropping you exactly where you swore you’d never be. And yet, here I am. Here we are.
A family.
Sienna’s little nose scrunches before the first wail tears free, shrill and demanding in the quiet of our hospital room. My eyes snap wide, heart thudding like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. I shift to sit up, but before I can even get my fingers to the clasp of my bra, Pierce is there.
“Hey, hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, plucking her from my arms like she’s made of glass. The sound of his voice alone softens her cries, though her tiny fists still flail against his chest. “Daddy’s got you. No need for all that fuss.”
I sink back against the pillows, exhaustion and pain warring for my attention, but my lips curve into a sleepy smile. Watching him sway with her, his arm supporting her back, his massive hand cradling her tiny head, twists my insides in the best way. The same man who once bulldozed through life without a second thought now looks like he’d crumble if she so much as whimpered too long.
A bubble of laughter slips out of me. “Looks like she’s already stolen my title,” I say, my voice still scratchy from lack of sleep. “Your little princess has you wrapped around her finger, Daddy.”
He glances over, eyes dark and shining with mischief. One brow tips like he’s pretending not to enjoy the new nickname.
Lord, help me.
Then he looks back down at her squishy red face tucked against his bare chest. Her cries soften into pitiful hiccups, and he shakes his head like he’s powerless. “And if she has?” His voice is low, so he doesn’t startle her. “That’s fine by me. She can be my princess.”
He looks at me again, and I swear I stop breathing. “Because you, Lex,” he says, lips curving into the kind of smile that could raze me in an instant, “you should have always been my queen.”
My throat goes tight, and not just because of the hormones that have been running me ragged for months. Pressure floods behind my eyes, my chest aching with the sheer weight of it all. The way this man loves me. The life we’ve managed to right after so many terrible wrongs.
I bite my lip to keep from sobbing outright and whisper, “You can’t just say stuff like that when I’m this emotional.”
Pierce chuckles. It’s the kind of sound that wraps around me as securely as his arms always have. He bends just enough to press a kiss to our daughter’s downy head, then another to my forehead.
“Get used to it, my queen,” he murmurs, rocking Sienna until her breaths even out again. “Because I’m not stopping now.”
And with my entire world in this little sterile room and his promise stitched into my skin, I don’t want him to.
EPILOGUE
3 YEARS LATER
“Oh my God!”
“What?” Harlow calls from the bedroom.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!” I’m freaking out, trying to process this new information.
“Bitch, what! Is there something wrong with your dress?” Harlow huffs as she stops and leans against the bathroom door, scanning me up and down.
“Auntie Lo Lo, that’s a bad word,” my daughter chides her favorite person.
I watch them in the bathroom mirror as Harlow squats down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Sienna’s ear. The way she looks at her, with all the love of a mother and all the mischief of a best friend, makes me grateful my daughter has a woman like her in her life.
“How about you go find Uncle Silas and tell him Auntie Lo Lo said to give you a dollar for your jar.”
Sienna’s eyes—that match mine in shape but are the rich golden brown of her father’s—light with excitement. The girl will be able to buy a car before she can even drive, at the ratepeople owe her for that jar. She takes off at full speed, and Harlow finally sidles up next to me at the counter.
I slide the test in front of her, both pink lines solid and bright.
“Dear God, do you two not know how to use protection?” She laughs and shakes her head, pulling my body into hers.
“We were! This was not the plan. We agreed that there would be no more babies until after I finished my clinicals. I’m almost done!” I shriek in panic at what this will mean. The morning sickness, the food aversions, and swollen ankles, and that’s just the pregnancy.
