Knight

Epilogue The Real Ones

I felt Knight’s hand slide lightly between my legs.

“Wake up, baby,” he whispered in my ear and my eyes drifted open.

He’d called before I went to sleep and told me what he wanted me to wear to bed (my red nightie with the black lace and, as usual, nothing else) and not to pull the covers over me.

So I didn’t.

I was lying mostly on my belly, my top leg hitched high, my bottom leg slightly crooked, perfect access and I knew this when my belly curled at what his hand was doing between my legs.

“I’m awake,” I muttered sleepily.

“Good, baby,” he whispered, lips still at my ear. “Get up. Position for Daddy. You know how I like it. Facing the headboard. Arms up in the air. Yeah?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” I agreed softly and his finger trailed deeper through the wet gathering between my legs.

My eyes closed.

My reward.

Then his hand drifted away as did his heat at my back.

I shifted up. Getting on my knees, sliding them wide, I slowly lifted my arms up into the air.

I felt Knight move in behind me. His hands glided on the silk of my nightie, all over it and that felt lovely. His lips came to my neck and worked there. That felt better. Then his fingers curled into the deep lace edge at the bottom of the nightie and he slowly pulled it up my body. His mouth left my neck, the nightie cleared my hands and was gone.

“Right, baby,” his lips were back at my ear, “hold onto the headboard. Keep your hands there. Don’t move them. And you can talk if you want. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Okay,” he whispered in my ear then his tongue trailed down my neck as I dropped my arms and grabbed onto the headboard.

Then his hands came back to me, moving, gliding, sliding, over my ribs, belly, hips, down the outside of my thighs, up the insides. A barely-there touch between my legs. Lips and tongue at my neck, my shoulder. Hands drifting up my sides, over the curve of my armpits, down my arms then back.

I trembled and held on as his light, loving touch melted through me.

More gliding, sliding then one hand went south, one hand curled around my breast.

Yes.

“Does my baby want her Daddy to play with her?”

“Yes,” I breathed, quivering , waiting, wanting to strain against his hands that were cupping me warm but not giving me anything.

“You can move, Anya. I wanna feel you get excited,” he whispered in my neck.

I was already excited.

But.

Goodie.

Knight played. I moved, moaned, whimpered, strained, rubbed, rolled.

Oh God. Fantastic.

When I could take no more, my head fell back, hitting his shoulder and my neck twisted.

Pressing my forehead into his neck, I begged, “I need you, honey.”

“Arch your back, tip your ass and take me.”

I obeyed immediately.

Knight’s cock surged inside.

My head flew back and I moaned.

“Fuck, my baby likes my cock,” he growled, one hand still at my breast rolling and tugging my nipple, his other hand still between my legs, finger working my clit and he was right-ish but I didn’t like his cock. I loved it and all of him. “Move, Anya, meet me. Fuck me while I fuck my baby.”

I did, hard. Slamming back into him as he thrust into me.

“My baby likes it rough. Love that, love it when she fucks herself hard,” he grunted.

Oh yeah, I loved it too.

“Christ, this cunt, my cunt, so fucking sweet.”

Oh God. I loved that too.

I moved faster, harder.

His fingers at my nipple tugged sharper, his finger at my clit pressed and rolled deeper. My whimpers came faster, more desperate.

“Give that to me,” he growled in my neck, my back arched further, my ass tipped up higher, my head pressed into his shoulder and I came on low moan. “Fuck yeah. Keep givin’ that to me, baby,” he groaned and his hands and cock kept at me so I had no choice but to comply.

When I was whimpering so much it was a keen, every inch of my skin oversensitive, Knight stopped manipulating my nipple and his hand cupped my breast. His finger at my clit stopped pressing and rolling and his hand slid deep, fingers separating around our connection, cupping me. He kept driving into me until both hands tensed, fingers digging deep and I felt and listened to him find it.

As he came down he took me gentle then slid in full and both his arms moved to wrap around me, one at my belly, one under my breasts.

“Love you, baby,” he murmured against my skin.

“Love you too, Knight,” I murmured back.

“Stay there, don’t move. I’ll be back. Gonna clean you up.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” I whispered.

Gently, he slid out, his hands drifting across my skin in a light caress as his arms left me then I felt the bed move as he got out of it. I saw dim light, heard the faucet in the bathroom then I felt the bed move as he came back. He wrapped an arm around my belly then glided a warm cloth between my legs and my hips jerked.

“Sensitive?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Like it like that,” he muttered.

I did too.

He kissed my shoulder and the cloth went away. “Don’t move.”

“Okay.”

He left the bed again to take the cloth back to the bathroom but wasn’t gone long before I felt him enter it again at his side.

Then he ordered, “Climb on me, Anya.”

I shifted to him immediately. He had his back to the headboard, legs straight so I threw one over his hips to straddle him. His arms closed around me, pulling me to him. His knees cocked and I felt his thighs against my bottom, his big, powerful, hard, warm body lightly and openly cocooning me.

Now that. That I loved.

I settled my weight into him, cheek to his collarbone, forehead to his neck. His hands drifted, sweet, light, beautiful on my skin. Fingers gliding through my hair making it slide along my back adding to the caress.

I melted into him, giving him more of my weight. We did this and we did it often. I totally loved it. It was supremely comfortable. It made me feel safe, precious, treasured. I could sleep like this and I knew that as a fact since I’d fallen asleep against him when we did this more than once.

“You dream?” he muttered.

“No,” I answered.

He drew in a slow breath then let it out.

They were gone, my dreams. The good ones, the bad. My sleep was dreamless, completely. It felt bizarre not having them but I didn’t miss them.

Knight had been right. It took some time but talking them through, living our life, I let them go and they left me.

“Know it’s late, Anya, but we got somethin’ to talk about,” he said quietly.

I pressed my lips together and tried not to tense.

We did. I just didn’t know I’d given that away. I thought I’d been hiding it.

But Knight noticed everything.

One of his arms closing around me, he angled to the side taking me with him and the light came on. I blinked in the sudden bright and then focused on his hand at the nightstand, fingers curled around and thumb flipping up the top of a small, square, expensive-looking box.

Then he pulled out what was inside as I held my breath, stayed completely still and watched as his hand came back, lifted mine from his chest and somehow he managed to position and slide the ring on my finger.

It was a band, thick gold at top and bottom, the middle inlaid all around with sparkling, perfect, not small by a long shot diamonds.

I stared.

His fingers curled around my hand then brought it back to his chest and pressed it flat.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

His arm that never left my back got super tight.

“Not what you’re thinkin’,” he said gently. “You know how I feel about that shit.”

I blinked, rapidly, but my eyelids were the only thing that moved.

I knew. I did. He explained it to me ages ago.

We’d now been together, starting from when we met, closing on two years. We met in February. It was November the year following. After I (officially) moved in that August, he gave us a couple of months then, in bed, the first time we cuddled like this after he made love to me, he explained he was not only not into labels but also not into traditional rituals. This included things like Thanksgiving and Christmas.

It also included things like marriage.

He told me he was committed to me but he’d never marry me. I was his, he was mine, we were together and we always would be but “the government knows who I’m fuckin’, everybody else can stay outta my fuckin’ business.”

I didn’t agree with this. I was Catholic though I didn’t attend church very often (as in never since my parents died, my religious education something else my aunt never saw to). Still, I did when they were alive and I kept that part of them with me. I was lax with it in a variety of ways but it didn’t mean it wasn’t important.

I was also a girl who wanted her day.

We discussed it and he didn’t make me yield. We went to Vivica and Rhashan’s for Thanksgiving dinner though Knight left to go to work. He let me have a Christmas tree but no Christmas music, cookies or other decorations. He did give me a gift, only one, but since it was a pair of ruby and diamond earrings that were exquisite, I didn’t quibble. But he didn’t stuff a stocking for me and made it clear he did not want me to give him one so I didn’t. We spent time together that day, I made a nice dinner, we made love, we cuddled and watched movies but we did none of the traditional things that day except exchange presents (I got him more than one, obviously, since it was my holiday and I liked to spoil my man as much as he liked to spoil me).

But this was as far as Knight was prepared to give in.

Marriage was not going to happen.

Although this was a disappointment, I knew it wasn’t him preserving an out.

This was it, him and me. He loved me. He was committed to me. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with me and intended to do it.

I felt the same.

So I gave in. It wasn’t a hardship. I had Knight and, truthfully, I didn’t need a piece of paper.

So, right then, I didn’t get the ring.

Knight, as ever, explained.

On an arm squeeze and another one at my hand where he’d just slid what had to be a crazy expensive ring, he whispered, “You’ve been quiet.”

Shit, I had. Damn.

“And I gave you that, baby, lettin’ you work it out. I waited for you to talk to me. You didn’t. But I know, Rhashan puttin’ his ring on Viv’s finger and her bein’ all about her wedding plans, you’re seein’ what you’re not getting.”

He was wrong. I wasn’t quiet because of that. I was quiet because of something else. I was over the moon that Rhashan asked Viv to marry him three months ago.

Knight kept talking.

“So, I gotta give you something. It’s for you and for me. For me bein’, that ring, no one will mistake it, you’re mine. Wherever you go, with me or without me, they’ll see. It makes that statement and I like that. For you, you get a little of what you want. With this,” his thumb moved over the gold and diamonds now at the base of my left ring finger, “I’ll give you a party. You wanna buy a beautiful dress, do it. You want it to be ivory, buy it. Sit down dinner, champagne, celebration, whoever you wanna invite. But I’m not cutting cake. No dancing. No fuckin’ speeches. Just a celebration. You wanna have an anniversary, I’ll spoil you, give you a gift that shows you what you mean to me, take you out to dinner and we’ll do it every year on the night we met.”

Oh. Wow. That wasn’t everything but it was unbelievably sweet.

And I’d take it. Definitely.

He wasn’t done.

“It means somethin’ to you, you get it for me, I’ll wear your symbol. Whatever you want. Including a band on my finger so everyone can see I’m yours.”

“I want that,” I whispered immediately, his arm got tight and his body shook with a short chuckle.

His voice shook with it too when he muttered, “How did I know that?”

I stared at his hand around mine and my beautiful ring.

Then I told him, “I want the party too.”

He pulled me up, I lifted my head and his eyes came to mine but he didn’t move his hand pressing mine against the solid heat of his chest.

Then he said gently, “Plan it. Whatever you want, flowers, food. Wherever you want, I’ll give it to you. No big dress that looks like a cake. This is just a party but it’s a party that celebrates you and me.”

I stared into his vivid, blue eyes twisting my hand at his chest so my fingers curled around his.

Then I whispered, “Okay, Knight.”

He stared into my eyes that were getting wet.

“You know I don’t like tears, baby,” he whispered.

I sucked in a breath through my nose and held his hand tightly. He watched me do this and waited until I got control.

When I did, he muttered, “Good.” Then, “You like the ring?”

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen outside of you.”

His eyes flashed as his head gave a short jerk.

Then he whispered, “Fuck me.”

I knew what that meant and felt my lips quirk.

Then I whispered back, “Thank you.”

His arm slid up my back and got tight in a way my face had to move forward even as his hand crushed mine in his.

“I love you, Anya,” he growled fiercely, so low, deep and rumbling I felt it through my body. “You know that, babe.”

“I do, honey,” I whispered, clutching his hand and I felt my nose sting again.

“No tears,” he ordered.

I pressed my lips together, took another breath in through my nose and nodded.

His arm and hand relaxed.

“Now, sleep.”

I nodded again.

He turned out the light and settled us, Knight on his back, me pressed to his side, his hand still holding mine against his chest.

Okay, that was beautiful.

Okay, that was amazing.

Okay, I loved this man.

But I had a secret. A secret I was worried would not please him. A secret that pleased me greatly but I was worried it would make him angry.

And he knew I had a secret. He sensed it. He’d guessed at what was bothering me.

But he was very, very wrong.

And after he gave that to me, with all that he’d given me, I had to find a way to share my secret.

I just didn’t know how.

The thin, high heels of my ludicrously expensive sandals clicked on the floors of our apartment as I moved through the L-shaped hall toward the living room-kitchen area.

I had my phone to my ear.

“She’s working my last nerve,” Vivica declared. “Are you fuckin’ coming?”

After a brief respite, Sandrine went on the prowl again. Then we had another brief respite after she hooked herself a handsome, built, wealthy jerk. They got engaged within a month and married two months later in an extravaganza that she threw together in a frightening display of “I’m a princess, all bow to me” that cost her father a fortune and, nearly, Vivica’s friendship. Against Knight’s advice, I forged in and held my posse together by the skin of our teeth. But her behavior definitely lost her any of the dregs of what was left of the respect she had from Knight and Rhashan. They both put up with her for Viv and me and that was as far as it went.

Now they were getting a divorce and she was on the prowl again. Since she and her husband separated two months ago, she’d met and discarded two “loves of her life” both holding this title for less than a week.

She was looking for number three.

Her hunting ground wasn’t normally Slade or other clubs. At twenty-nine, even Sandrine knew she was beyond that. She mostly hunted high-brow charity functions, dragging, on occasion, Vivica (who was now at a different hotel with no “assistant” in her manager title and a huge pay hike) or, more frequently, me along with her.

But she wasn’t averse to hitting the scene.

She also wasn’t averse to getting her groove on, getting hammered and doing stupid stuff.

Like, obviously, she was doing now.

I moved into the kitchen.

“I’m about to leave. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Move your ass, girl, or Knight will be activating the cleanup crew to mop up blood after a very messy homicide,” Viv replied and I grinned.

“Gotcha. There in fifteen.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

I disconnected and shoved my phone in my red clutch. It was one of fifteen clutches I owned, seven of these being red. My dress was also red and it was one of about fifty that I owned, around thirty-five of those being red.

This wardrobe enhancement was because I liked to be around Knight and our schedules, me at the spa during the day, him at the club at night, except for Sundays, meant we didn’t have a lot of time together.

So I often went to Slade.

I did not know any of his “girls” but I did suspect, from some looks, some comments (not overt but thoughtful and respectful) that a number of them came to my spa. When I cottoned onto this, they shocked me. They weren’t exactly what I would think of as professional, classy call girls. They also weren’t skanks. They just looked like, well… women.

But I did know most of his waitresses and bartenders, there was a heavy turnover of both so there was always a new one, and all of his bouncers and security. Those didn’t turnover. Knight was selective, he trained them carefully, treated them right, they respected him, he returned the favor, paid well and they stuck.

So I had Knight on occasion, his staff and often Vivica, Sandrine (unfortunately, these days) or one or several of my other friends would show and keep me company.

I also had my own, small VIP section. The last time Knight gutted the club, he’d had it built for me. It was higher than the others, could accommodate around ten people, was fit for comfort, had some cool-as-heck screening that provided some privacy though you could shift to see whatever you wanted to see but it was also positioned so, from his window, Knight could see me.

When at Slade, I hung in Knight’s office or in my section with myself, his staff or my friends.

I was never bored.

I usually showed around ten, left around twelve thirty. I didn’t see a lot of Knight but I saw him and I knew he also saw me.

And I knew, even though he never told me, he liked to see me.

So I often went to Slade.

I was about to make a move to the front door when something caught my eye.

A flash of bright red.

I knew Viv needed me but still, I took a moment and surveyed the space.

Although there was nothing wrong with them, I got rid of Knight’s counter appliances and replaced them with the same but in red. On the end of the bar delineating the kitchen from the living room there was a tall, slender, red vase that widened at the top that we paid a florist to come once a week and fill. She also filled the squat, magenta, cylindrical vase that sat on the chest at the upper landing by the wall in the living room. And, at Knight’s demand, every week there were new flowers arranged in the two round, black vases in our bedroom, one on the coffee table in the seating area, a smaller one on my nightstand.

These were always, exclusively, perfect ivory roses.

Also Knight’s demand.

I’d kept the rug in the sunken living room but got rid of the streamlined, leather couches that did not invite lounging or, well, anything. Now they were black, slouchy suede couches that practically begged you to kick your shoes off and relax. They were covered with different size toss pillows in magenta, aubergine and dark gray.

I’d also gotten rid of the print that didn’t do anything for me. Getting what Knight called a “wild hair”, I’d hired a professional photographer to come when Knight’s parents were in town. I invited my posse, Knight invited nobody and we had a party while the photographer took photos. Now on that wall was a custom-made mess of interlocking, multi-shaped and sized black frames with ivory matting and black and white candid photos of family and friends.

Now that made me feel something.

And the black bowls on the chest were gone. Even though the wall above it was filled with photos, along the top off the vase of flowers, the chest was filled with more.

And those were just Knight, me or us together. Color and black and white, in Slade, at Thanksgiving at Rhashan and Vivica’s, at my spa, at Sandrine’s crazy wedding, in our apartment, dozens of silver framed photos sitting on the chest, jumbled. You had to get close really to see any of them. But I loved them. Mostly because Knight loved them too. So much, he got into it and, not often, but it happened, I’d be sitting on the balcony or at a stool at the bar, I’d turn my head and see he was taking a picture of me.

I returned the favor.

I loved the photos someone else took of us together.

The photos we took of each other were a close second.

It wasn’t much (though it all cost a fortune) but it made Knight’s apartment our home. It didn’t look like a museum. It felt like a place where people lived happily. Something which was true.

Even though it still was kickass.

I grinned to myself and walked out of the kitchen, switching off lights on my way. I went to the hall closet, got my sleek, black, to-the hip evening trench with the soft sheen and shrugged it on.

Then I walked to the door and stopped at the narrow table I’d put there that had a big, oval bowl on it where we tossed our keys. I grabbed my keys and looked up.

Then, as it always did when I saw it, pure joy slid through me.

Knight’s only addition to making our house a home, outside my ivory roses in the bedroom, was what was mounted on the wall above that table. It was hanging there, I knew though he did not say, so we would see it every time we came home and dumped our keys there and every time we left.

When I moved in, he’d found the faulty cell phone I never got around to throwing out probably because it meant something to me. Then he’d had it mounted between two sheets of square glass framed in a black frame.

The frame and mounting was awesome.

The cell phone wasn’t that attractive.

I adored it.

Adored it.

My eyes dropped to the sparkling band glittering on my finger that Knight slid there last night.

I smiled huge.

Then I walked out, took the elevator down to the garage, walked to my shiny Mercedes and got in. Then I buckled up, pulled out my phone, started my car and drove out.

When I hit the street, I grabbed my phone and found Knight.

Two rings then, “Babe.”

“I’m in my car on the way.”

“Right. See you soon.”

“Okay, honey.”

Disconnect.

I drove to the club and slid in behind Knight’s Aston Martin.

The sign on the wall in the alley by my car said, Space Restricted – Ms. Gage

It hit me then that Knight was never going to give me his name. But, in doing so, I’d never lose the one my mother and father gave me. All I had left of them except memories would always be with me.

And when it hit me, it hit me sweet.

I bit my smiling lip, got out and Kurt was there.

“Hey, honey,” I greeted, moving out of the door he moved toward to close.

“Yo,” he grunted.

I again bit my smiling lip.

Kurt. Seriously. He said practically nothing. Still, I found him hilariously funny.

He put a hand light on the small of my back and guided me to the backdoor.

We walked through and I headed to the door of the stairs leading to Knight’s office. I felt Kurt’s presence leave without a word. As was Kurt’s way, the job was done, he moved on. He liked me, this I knew because Knight told me not because Kurt showed me.

Hernando, the security guy at Knight’s door, smiled at me as he opened it.

“Hey, Anya.”

“Hey, Hern,” I muttered, rolled up on my toes and touched my lips to his cheek. I rolled back and caught his eye. “Is Knight up there?”

“Yup.”

Goodie.

I grinned at Hern, walked through the door and started up the steps.

The club sounds muted as the door closed behind me and my happy mood suddenly slid clean out of me.

Knight was up there. His ring was on my finger. The wide, brushed gold band I’d gone out that day to buy him was in my bag.

And I had to tell him my secret. Time was sliding by. He’d done something beautiful for me and would expect me to snap out of the quiet, reflective mood I’d been in and if I didn’t, he’d wonder. Then he’d get impatient when I didn’t share.

I needed to share.

I stood outside his door with my hand on the knob, my eyes to my hand.

I had to do this now.

Face his anger, discuss and, God, God, maybe yield.

I turned the knob and walked in.

He was standing at his window wearing a dark suit and a wine red shirt, both looked great on him as usual, and the instant I walked in, his eyes cut to me.

“Gotta do somethin’ about that bitch.”

Damn.

God, Sandrine.

I heard the door close behind me as I took a few steps in and stopped.

“What’s she doing now?” I asked.

“Pissin’ me off.”

Oh boy.

“Knight –”

“Have words with her, Anya.”

I drew in breath and nodded.

“When you go down, I’ll call Kurt. You, Viv and Kurt get her ass in a taxi. It takes her home and she goes out again, that’s on her. She comes back here, babe, she drinks easy and she doesn’t piss me off. She’s got one more shot. Then she’s not in my club again.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

He studied me.

“Been two hours, babe,” he declared, this being the amount of time we’d been apart and I knew he was not happy I was standing across the room and not close, giving him a kiss.

“Do you remember the flu I had a few of months ago?” I blurted.

His head jerked and his eyes narrowed. I understood this. What I’d blurted made no sense. Also, he wanted me close and he wanted my kiss. I never denied this. Ever. Because I wanted both too. And he also very rarely had to ask for it since I very usually just gave it to him.

“What?” he asked.

“Remember that flu that knocked me for a loop a few of months ago? You know, when I was in bed for forever and –?”

“I remember.”

I pressed my lips together and rolled them.

“Anya –”

“I was so sick, I missed taking my birth control pills,” I whispered.

His body went visibly solid.

Oh boy.

Okay, all right.

Right.

“I told you,” I kept whispering. “And we used condoms for a while. One, um… must have broken or, uh… something…”

I trailed off.

Knight didn’t move, his eyes burning into me, his face impassive.

Not a good sign.

I kept whispering, my eyes glued to him. “I’m pregnant.”

He moved not a muscle and said not a word and he did this for a long time.

Even I could barely hear my voice when I said quietly, “I want to keep it, Knight. And I want that badly.”

Knight gave me nothing.

I wanted to close my eyes, cry, beg.

I wanted this baby. His baby. I wasn’t expecting it. We’d never discussed children.

But I wanted it.

Like I said…

Badly.

“I think I’ve known for a while,” I shared quietly and carefully. “But I took a home pregnancy test um… a bit ago. Then to confirm I went to the doctor Monday. I’m ten weeks.”

Knight didn’t move.

“Honey.” My voice was shaking.

That was when he moved but not to me. Nor did he say anything. He lifted his hand, shoved it inside his jacket and pulled out his phone, all the while his eyes on me.

My heart started beating as my stomach clenched. I didn’t know what this meant but it terrified me.

His eyes dropped to his phone as he hit buttons but they came back and pinned me to the spot when he put the phone to his ear.

I stood still, my eyes held captive by his and I waited.

“Hey, yeah, Knight,” he said into the phone and I tried not to hyperventilate. “Got news. Anya’s pregnant. Ten weeks.”

I blinked and when I was done, his eyes were still on me.

“Fuck, Mom, I know it’s great fuckin’ news but stop screamin’.” Pause then, “Fuck, give the phone to Dad.”

My eyes filled with tears and there was no way I could control them. They spilled right over.

He didn’t take his phone from his ear when he ordered low and slow, “Babe, get… over… here.”

Tossing my clutch across the room to the couch, I flew to him, my body colliding with his, my arms wrapping around tight and his arm did the same, holding me close.

I felt his lips at the top of my hair and then, “Dad? Yeah. Yeah, she isn’t lyin’. Anya’s carrying my baby. Ten weeks.” Pause then, “No. Unexpected. She got sick a while back, flu, missed some pills.” Pause then on a squeeze of his arm in a gentle, soft voice, “No, Dad. It’s good. We’re happy.”

“It’s good.”

“We’re happy.”

He talked more but I didn’t hear much mainly because my body was bucking against his due to my sobbing.

Then he said his good-byes, shifted me so he could pry me away from his frame and put his phone back in his pocket then both his arms wound tight around me.

“Babe, eyes,” he ordered gently and I tipped back my head. His eyes moved over my face then caught mine. “You didn’t want a ring. You wanted my baby,” he whispered.

“Yes,” I whispered back.

“Mom’s fuckin’ beside herself,” he shared something I guessed.

I’d met his parents, three times.

They’d been to Denver twice. The second time for a nice visit. The first time Carl came out with Knight’s Mom to deal with Nick.

Nick now lived in Hawaii with Carl riding his ass. He was clean of blow, Carl’s first order of business. But he was still “dicking around” (Knight’s words). Though, “At least it gives Dad somethin’ to do. He doesn’t golf. He doesn’t surf. He doesn’t garden. He cracks heads. He was goin’ crazy. Now he’s got a head to crack,” (also Knight’s words).

We’d also gone out to see them. When we did, we saw Nick. To me, he’d changed. He was far less of an asshole and he’d actually found a quiet moment just him and me to apologize and, I thought, do it sincerely. Knight warned me not to be fooled. He explained Nick could get contrite then Nick could turn back into an asshole. Luckily, while we were there, he didn’t slide back into the asshole.

And, it should be noted that although Nick took the time to apologize to me, he didn't take the time to apologize to his brother. Something I didn’t like all that much. Something Knight took in stride. Therefore something that clearly had happened before, repeatedly, this an assumption I’d made that Knight had confirmed when I asked him.

I tried to smile through my tears and replied, “Good.”

“Dad’s pleased.” He kept sharing.

“Good,” I repeated on a hitched breath.

His arms left me so his hands could cup my jaw, his thumbs sliding through the wet on my cheeks and he ordered softly, “Baby, quit crying.”

I drew in a shaky breath. This didn’t work so I drew in another one.

On the fourth, I got it together.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his thumbs still moving through the wet.

I held onto him and held his eyes.

“You’re carrying my baby,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“You’re carrying my baby,” he repeated, his voice lower, gruff, thick.

I felt my nostrils quiver but I held it together and nodded.

His forehead dropped to mine, his nose slid along mine but his hands never left my face and I held my breath as he whispered with feeling, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Slowly, I closed my eyes.

He wanted this, my man. He wanted me to have his baby.

I opened my eyes.

“You’re happy?” I guessed, my voice quiet but the words were still pitched high with hope.

“Fuck, baby, yeah. Fuck yeah. You got my baby in you.”

“I was worried you’d be angry,” I admitted and his face went away just an inch.

“I get that. We haven’t discussed it. Though, sayin’ that, been thinkin’ for a while about talkin’ to you about it. Puttin’ that ring on your finger reminded me I needed to get to that. Fate jumped the gun. I’m not complaining.”

God, God, God.

I loved this man.

“So you want kids?” I ventured even though the answer was obvious.

Still, it was good I asked because he smiled and I loved to watch Knight smile.

“Absolutely.”

“How many?”

“Two,” he said immediately.

“Boys or girls?”

“Boys,” he said again immediately and I blinked.

“Really?”

“Babe, my life, girls?” He shook his head and kept shaking it when he went on, “Your beauty, even a little of it, you give that to our baby?” He stopped shaking his head and his fingers gave me a gentle squeeze. “Fuck no. I’ll need to buy more guns and hire more men.”

I giggled.

“Make me boys,” he ordered.

I giggled again.

Then I pointed out the obvious, “Not sure I can yield on that, sweetheart. Think that’s up to destiny.”

His mouth came to mine and he continued being bossy.

“Do the best you can do.”

“Okay, Knight.”

“All right, baby.”

God, God, God.

I loved this man.

After having that joyous thought, I got serious but did it quietly.

“Honey, you need to quit smoking.”

He held my eyes and instantly agreed, “Yeah.”

I relaxed deeper into him.

“You’re forgetting something,” he whispered against my lips.

“What?” I whispered against his, looking in his beautiful eyes.

“Babe, kiss me.”

I grinned against his mouth.

Then I pressed tight in a variety of places and I kissed him.

His hands left my jaw so his arms could cage me in close, tight, safe and warm and then my Knight kissed me.

I stood with just my head out the door to the balcony that led from the nursery and, adjusting the telephoto lens, I took the shot. Then another. Then another.

I pulled back. Moving my thumbs over the buttons, I checked the screen at the back of the camera.

Then I smiled.

I got it.

I carefully closed the door without a sound, walked into the room, put the camera on the dresser and walked out.

Then I walked to the kitchen and retrieved my mug of herbal tea.

After that, I moved to the glass doors to the balcony, skirting the sunken living room.

Knight was out there. He was slouched in a chair, feet up on the railing, ankles crossed, mug of coffee on the table beside him.

I moved through the doors to the empty chair angled toward his and caught the glimmer of sun glinting on the gold band on his finger that was on his hand which was resting on our baby girl’s rounded, diaper-covered booty. She was curled, dimpled knees tucked under her, little fist resting beside her face, asleep on her Daddy’s Black Sabbath tee-covered chest.

I sat in my chair, holding my cup aloft as I lifted my own legs and carefully positioned them resting over my man’s thighs.

Knight trailed a finger light along the skin on the outer side of one of mine and tingles radiated out from my skin even as they went up my spine, my neck to cover my scalp. Then he rested his hand curled around the top of my thigh, close to the apex of my legs, the pads of his fingers on my inner thigh.

“Get the shot?” he muttered, eyes to the Range.

Jeez. He noticed everything.

I lifted my mug to my lips.

“Yep.”

“Babe, she’s a couple weeks old. You keep fillin’ the house with frames, we won’t be able to move through it.”

I took a sip, eyes to the Front Range and staying there, I swallowed and replied, “So, buy us a bigger house.”

“That I can do,” he murmured instantly.

Yes.

Oh yes.

God, God, God.

I loved this man.

I looked to him and got his profile, strong, aggressive, unbelievable male beauty.

I looked to my daughter, my little Ekateirna, baby Kat, and her eyes drifted open and closed then they opened and I knew she probably couldn’t but it looked like she focused on me.

I reached out, stroked her super soft, chubby cheek and grinned into her clear, pure, Prussian blue eyes that I knew in my heart would stay that way.

Then her eyes drifted closed.

I dropped my hand over Knight’s on my thigh. His twisted and curled around mine.

My eyes drifted to the Range and I sipped my tea, living a life I never expected, living a dream I never even tried to dream, living it now entirely dream free.

Except, of course, the real ones sitting in the sun, one holding my hand and one sleeping next to me.