Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(70)

That night as we lay in bed, we talked a lot about how we’d met and how far we’d come. Caven was a firm believer that we’d been destined to be a family from the start. So, with that in mind, I told him that there was a surrogate out there who was already meant to carry our son or daughter. He just had to keep his eyes and his heart open long enough to see her.

I woke up the next morning to find the file of the dreaded coffee drinker on my nightstand. Her name was Hope.

After that, things only got harder. Holy shit, getting someone else pregnant was rough.

With only one damaged ovary, it took months of shots, medication, ultrasounds, and failure upon failure for my body to finally produce one mature egg. While our one little fighter successfully fertilized, the quality of the embryo was poor and every doctor who spoke with us begged us not to get our hopes up.

It was the impossible.

But we had been the impossible from the very start.

Keira Marie Hunt was born nine months later. When we’d found out she was a girl, we’d expected another redhead who looked just like Rosalee. But life once again proved it worked best with the element of surprise. At eighteen months, Keira looked just like her father—brown hair, blue eyes, and all.

“Okay, so what if I promise not to use the atomic bomb?” I asked.

He arched a challenging eyebrow. “Volcano?”

I bit my bottom lip. “No.”

“Meteor?”

“No.”

“Tsunami?”

“Damn,” I muttered.

He barked a laugh. It could be said that diaper duty was not my favorite.

I started to move my legs, but he stood up.

Leaning in for a kiss, he rumbled, “I’ll get it. Relax.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I breathed against his mouth.

“A time or two. But maybe you could show me tonight?”

“As long as the girls fall asleep before I do, I’m all yours.”

He chuckled and pecked me again before lamenting, “Great. I’m never having sex again.”

“Ew, gross. Stop kissing all the time,” Rosalee groaned as she walked into the room, covered head to toe in sequins.

It was what I recognized as Hadley’s flapper Halloween costume. Keira was holding her hand in nothing but a diaper, a long pearl necklace, and white elbow-length gloves.

I smiled, my heart overflowing with love. While packing up all of Hadley’s things from my old house, Caven and I had divided some of her stuff into age-appropriate boxes to one day give to Rosalee. There was everything from dress-up clothes and purses, to high heels and prom gowns, to a few pieces of nicer jewelry she hadn’t sold. Every so often when I was feeling particularly nostalgic, I’d ask Caven to bring one of the boxes down from the attic and we’d give it to Rosalee.

Hadley was gone from our lives, something I’d tearfully accepted the day we’d had the headstone at my family plot changed, but Caven had promised me she would never be forgotten. And that wasn’t just because Rosalee was looking more and more like her mother every day, but rather because he went out of his way to help me keep her alive through stories and laughter.

He didn’t have much to contribute in the way of memories, but he was always the first to randomly ask for a story about Hadley or my mom or dad. And I loved him more than words could ever express because of it.

Hadley and my family could have been a strained topic we were forced to tiptoe around forever. Caven’s guilt was still very real, though it had been fading over the years as our therapist had him transferring more of that guilt to his father’s and brother’s shoulders. It was still there. I could see it in the almost imperceptible winces while I spoke about happier times, but there wasn’t much that man wouldn’t sacrifice for his wife and his children. So he smiled and usually held my hand as I told Rosalee all about the amazing Banks family.

“Wow! You look gorgeous,” I told her.

Caven wasn’t so fond. “You look twenty-five. Take it off.”

Rosalee rolled her eyes, ignoring his order completely. “I think Keira stole your wallet. I found it hidden in one of my mom’s purses.”

It was like a slow-motion statement. The words all came out, floated around in the air, and went in through our ears, but it took several seconds for Caven and me to absorb them.

His eyebrows drew together as he slapped his back pocket. I could already see the bulge, so I knew whatever she had found wasn’t his wallet—at least not currently.

She extended a leather bifold out in front of her and I swear I felt a bolt of lightning hit Caven. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

He stared at her outstretched hand for a long minute, but he never moved to take it from her.

“Here,” Rosalee said, pushing it toward him again.

But my husband, stunned into silence, just stood there, staring. His face was unreadable, which to me was the most concerning of all.

I stood up and took the wallet from her hand. “Hey, why don’t you take Keira to her room and get a diaper out. I’ll be there in a minute to change her.”

“Okay, but hurry. I can’t take the smell much longer.” She fake gagged and then started down the hall with her sister in tow.

The minute they were gone, I moved in front of my husband, who had turned into a statue. I rested my hand on his pec. “Is this the one Hadley took?”