Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(112)

So who else? Who else? Her whole life was Corey Island, except for the nights she spent at the Pamlico House.

“The Pamlico House,” he murmured, lowering his arm. “Your boss . . . Mrs . . . Ms. . . .”

“Sebastian,” she said softly with a sad smile.

Boone. That’s where Nana lived. Afore she died.

“Nana,” he said, rolling onto his side, mirroring Laire, watching her eyes soften as they spoke of her benefactor.

She nodded. “Nana.”

“She took you in?”

“She adopted me, for all intents and purposes. She was moving to Boone to be closer to her son, and she took me with her. She was next to me when I gave birth to Ava Grace, coaching me through my breathing. She gave us a place to live. She watched my baby while I went to college. Her son, Patrick, was an uncle to Ava Grace. We were . . . Erik, we were surrounded with love.” She was still crying, but her face wasn’t as heartbreaking as it had been when she was talking about his mother. “She saved our lives.”

“The condo here?”

“Was hers,” said Laire. “She left it to me when she died last summer.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wincing at her loss. He reached for her hip, pulling her closer. When their foreheads were touching, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

“I’m so grateful I had her,” she whispered back.

“Am I all caught up, darlin’?”

“Yes,” she said, her sweet breath kissing his lips as the tension drained from their bodies. “Wait. No.”

“No?” he asked, cracking open an eye.

“By chance,” she said softly, “I ran into the love of my life at the inn where she hired me to work so long ago. And I just . . . maybe this sounds crazy, but I feel like that was Judith’s—Ms. Sebastian’s—final gift to me: giving me a condo here so that I’d have to come back and find you.”

You don’t have any business with an island girl, now, do you?

He pictured Judith Sebastian’s stern face with a wave of gratitude that almost leveled him. She’d always wanted what was best for Laire, and maybe, finally, at the end of her life, she’d decided that was him. He’d always respected her—it comforted him to believe that Ms. Sebastian had put Laire in a position to find him again.

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” he said, tenderly kissing the bridge of her nose. “Sounds like she wanted you to be happy.”

“We’ll be happy if we’re with you,” she murmured, nuzzling him.

Erik drew her so close that their hearts were touching and their legs intertwined. “I want that more than anythin’, darlin’.”

“Good.” She snuggled closer, melting into him with a sigh. “This is so nice.”

He rubbed her back, pressing his lips to hers.

“Mmmm,” she sighed, her eyes closed, her body languid against him. “Would it be okay if we slept for a little while? I feel like I’ve been running for years. I’m so . . . tired.”

“Of course, baby,” he said, clasping her body tightly to his. “I’ve got you now. You sleep.”

“You too,” she murmured.

“Sure,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Me too.”

It took only a minute or two for her breathing to become deep and even, but there was no way Erik was going to sleep. His mind was racing, bouncing between the four most important women in his life and trying to make sense out of where they each fit into his after this epic conversation with Laire.

Hillary was easy. He was desperate to talk to her—to explain everything and to introduce her to Laire and Ava Grace. He imagined Hillary and Laire becoming good friends and Hillary being an amazing aunt to her niece. He couldn’t wait to tell her everything.

The revelation about Ava Grace’s parentage had finally sunk into his consciousness, and he accepted it without a shred of doubt: he had a daughter, and, yes, he had a lot to learn, but he was going to be the best damn father the earth had ever known. There would be time to make up for, and time to celebrate, and the next time he and Laire had a child together, he fully intended to be there from the very beginning.

Leaning forward a little, he pressed his lips to Laire’s forehead again, resting them against her soft skin as she slept.

As soon as possible, he intended to have a ring on her finger and a date to meet her at the altar. It was as though he’d awakened, over the past couple of days, from a years-long nightmare, and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Laire was the key to his happiness. He had missed out on enough time with her—he wanted her to be his wife, and he wanted it now. She was the missing piece of his heart, the joy of his soul, the very lifeblood of his being, and the mother of his daughter. As soon as she said yes, he would bind his life to hers forever and thank God for the gift of her love every day of his life.

Taking a deep breath, he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

As for his mother.

As for Ursula “Fancy” Rexford.

He would confront her only to disown her.

He would make her take responsibility for what she willfully stole from him.

And then he would wash his hands of her forever.

Drawing his sweetheart as close to him as possible, he pulled the comforter over them both. Then, seeking and matching the rhythm of her beating heart with his own, he closed his eyes and joined her in sleep.