Page 98 of Bed of Thorns

“I miss what we shared in the beginning. He really could be very sweet.” She shook her head. “How could I have been so blind?”

“He did everything in his power to keep his unscrupulous life from you, just like he did with Edmond.”

“And it nearly destroyed that boy’s life.”

“But it didn’t.”

“I thank God every day for that. The two of you belong together.” Her somber mood changed, a smile crossing her face. “When is the art show?”

“Ugh. In three days. I’m not ready,” I complained, immediately starting to fidget.

“Baby girl, you are more than ready. Soon, you’re going to be a star. Now, I’m going to finish getting dinner ready. Go enjoy time with your family.” She shooed me away, giving me a motherly look before heading toward her kitchen. We tried to make Sunday dinners special, spending time with family and ignoring the rest of the world. For the most part, it had worked.

I walked out onto the deck, taking in the view of the gulf waters. I loved Bradenton, the smaller city providing everything we needed.

Just like Port Christy had done for a good portion of our lives.

Several arrests had been made, the Prism Group making headlines well into four months ago. I often had nightmares thinking about how much control they had over corporations and governments. While Edmond had turned over the last jump drive, which contained the bulk of evidence used against him, we’d made the decision to keep the box he’d buried all those years ago for added protection.

Would we always worry about retaliation? It was likely, but we refused to live our lives in fear or hatred any longer. I was doing what I loved, painting, basking in the sheer fun of indulging in my craft. Edmond had been wonderful, encouraging me when I’d felt sick, barely finding the energy to get out of bed, the doctor keeping me bedridden for half of my pregnancy. But once I’d started painting, I’d found it impossible to stop.

I removed my shoes, heading toward the water, stopping when I was a few yards away. There was nothing like the sound of his laughter.

Or little Thomas, who had his daddy wrapped around his two-month-old finger. I folded my arms, squinting from the late afternoon sun, never growing tired of watching them interact.

Or the cooing sounds I never knew Edmond could make.

When Edmond finally noticed me standing there, I could swear he’d turned several shades of pink. He liked to think of himself as one big tough he-man, but standing in bare feet and faded blue jeans, a ratty old tee shirt I continued to try to get him to toss, it was impossible.

Besides, there was the wind-tousled hair and the funny expression on his face that placed him square in the adorable category instead of hunk of the year.

However, late at night, when the baby was put to bed, he became an absolute animal. I giggled from the thought and walked closer.

“How’s the most beautiful mother in the world?” he asked, lifting Thomas into the air and spinning around in circle after circle.

“She’s finishing dinner in the kitchen,” I teased.

He gave me a heated look, the kind that sent shivers dancing down my spine. The man was without a doubt the sexiest creature on Earth.

“My rebellious woman. I think we need to take care of that tonight,” he said, issuing a growl, which Thomas adored. He immediately erupted into giggles, his little laugh creating a wave of emotion.

I’d almost lost my baby boy all those months before. The doctors had advised that we terminate the pregnancy, but I’d refused. While I was told my life could be placed in jeopardy, I’d kept my faith. Thomas was born with ten perfect fingers and toes, completely healthy.

And my blood pressure was under control.

“No, you don’t. I’ve been a very good girl for months. Years.”

When he pulled Thomas against his chest, cocking his head, I laughed.

“Uh-huh. Do you want me to start listing your infractions?”

“No, thank you.”

Edmond moved toward the outdoor playpen, gently easing Thomas into the center. Then he immediately lunged for me. I was too quick for his outstretched arms, running and dodging him, laughing until tears of joy slipped past my lashes.

Of course, he could easily outrun me with his long, muscular legs, tackling me to the sand.

“No, you don’t,” he huffed as he jerked one arm over my head then the other, holding both wrists with his massive hand.

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