Bauer spoke too quietly for us to hear anything through the open window, and as he tightened the straps on Gabriel’s helmet, did a quick check of elbows and knees, he said something that made Gabriel laugh.
Then my son popped back up and got right back on the board. His smile was wide, not a trace of fear or worry on his face as he coasted around their circular driveway under Bauer’s skillful instruction.
“Our kids have the coolest fucking family,” I whispered.
Claire laughed, and even Jude cracked a reluctant smile.
“Admit it,” I said, nudging him with my elbow.
He grunted. “If this means Logan loses, I’ll admit just about anything right now.”
After a few more minutes, Gabriel hopped off the skateboard and raced back into the house. “Mom, Dad,” he gushed, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, “did you see that flip I did?”
Jude held out a fist. “Epic. Absolutely epic.”
Gabriel bumped his fist against his dad’s, smiling so widely that I thought his face might crack. “Skateboarding is totally my favorite,” he said, then rushed right back out of the house.
I burst out laughing, as did Claire.
Jude shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“And yet,” I said slowly, “it’s kinda perfect.”
“I lost, didn’t I?” my husband said on a sigh.
“Yup.” Claire and I spoke in tandem.
“But … so did Logan,” he continued, smug grin gracing his features. “I’m calling him right now.”
Claire and I shook our heads, then turned back to watching her husband keep on winning the unofficial ‘coolest uncle’ award, single-handedly dismantling my chances at winning the pot.
“Should we tell them that Bauer bet on himself sweeping the whole thing?” Claire mused.
I laughed under my breath. “Nah.”
My sister wound her arm around my waist, and I set my head on hers.
“I like our husbands a lot,” she said.
“Me too, Claire. Me too.”
Volume 4: Forbidden
FORBIDDEN
Dedication
To the person who holds onto their heart tightly.
It’s precious, dear reader, give to it someone who will cherish it.
Prologue
PROLOGUE
Aiden
Two and a half years earlier
“D
oes this mean I’ll get a new mommy?”
Amazing how kids could say the most innocent things and make you feel like you’d just taken a knife to the gut.
Shielding my eyes from the California sun, I glanced up at Anya, sitting at the perch of her slide. When I could breathe enough to form words, I tried to keep my face even. “Why would you get a new mom?”
She kicked her legs, staring at the bank of windows where Beth’s hospital bed was set up—at her request—so she could watch Anya play. “If Mommy is going to heaven soon, does that mean I’ll get a new one?”
I’d learned how to explain a lot to a five-year-old in the past few months.
Cancer.
Why Beth had decided against chemo.
Hospice.
Heaven.
But this … this was new. And I had to pinch my eyes shut to fight the brutal wave of fresh grief as it hit me.
Every day was a new one, despite the reality that we’d been living in for ninety-two days since her diagnosis. And I was convinced every wave was the worst, and the next one might not knock me to my knees until moments like this.
Beth’s cancer had forced me to discover a side of myself I’d never known. A wellspring of patience, of acceptance, of realizing that everything I’d dedicated my life to didn’t really matter very much in the grand scheme of things. Being good at something didn’t automatically make it vital.
Fighting used to be everything. And now, it was simply something I used to do, and in no way did it prepare me to bury my wife before we both turned thirty-five.
Nor did it help me when my daughter asked about a new mommy.
“Maybe we can talk about this later, okay?” I said wearily. Sleep was scarce for me even though Beth was doing more and more of it. Her nurse couldn’t give me an exact timeline, but as her appetite waned and her energy decreased, we knew we were down to weeks. Maybe days.
“Okay, Daddy.” She swooshed down the slide, running back around to the ladder. Instead of stopping on the platform, she hopped nimbly up to the beam stretching across the top of the swing set. “Look!”
I shook my head. “Anya, you know you can’t be up that high.”
My fearless girl, she giggled, moving to stand on the beam. I was on my feet in the next breath, holding my arms out. “Come on, big jump and I’ll catch you.”
If I freaked out, she’d do something even crazier, like trying to land on her feet, and yes, I’d learned that the hard way too. This was the same child who, at the age of three, was found swinging from the dining room light fixture after climbing up on the table.
Anya stood carefully, arms out, tongue trapped between her teeth. “I hope Mommy can see this. I know it’ll make her feel better,” she said.
I smiled. Another knife. Another knock to my lungs. “I’m sure it will, gingersnap.”
“Ready?”
I nodded.
She jumped, and I caught her, swinging her down toward the ground, then back up into the air as she squealed happily.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.