Broken Dove
Page 174
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With a little bit of meddling.
My namesake is, of course, beautiful, chérie.
As ever, I wish you happiness,
Valentine.
Smiling to myself, I slid the letter back into the envelope, removed the goodies from Valentine’s crib and set them aside. Then I touched the soft pink skin of my baby girl’s cheek.
The pregnancy was not without its normal dramas. The delivery wasn’t short. It thankfully wasn’t long. And it happened in this world by my choice.
And my choice was, this was my world and I didn’t want to leave it.
And there she was.
Proof that the future beamed bright.
In fact, I was standing by the crib of my sleeping daughter, and I was blinded by it.
Even so, I could stand there for days.
But I didn’t.
I moved to the green pouch Valentine had left. I nabbed it, shoved my fingers in the opening and pulled it wide.
Instantly, a glow emanated from the bag.
I stared at the glow a moment before I dipped my nose close and took in a breath.
Peppermint, with hints of vanilla and licorice.
It was then, I smiled.
* * * * *
Apollo fell to his back, taking me with him.
I was breathing heavily, my hand moving over his slick skin, my eyes moving across the room.
There we were in the mirrors Apollo had fitted to the doors of the wide wardrobe—Apollo on his back, his long strong muscled body stretched out on the bed, me straddling him, my forehead in his neck, my na**d torso pressed to his, our bodies connected. My skin appeared creamy in contrast to the olive tone of his.
We looked amazing.
My eyes slid to the two empty china teacups sitting on our nightstand, but they went back to the mirror when I felt his touch.
I watched his hand glide lazily over the cheek of my behind. Watching it, feeling it, I lifted my head and slid up his chest so I had his eyes.
There it was. That look. The first look he’d ever given me.
Minus one thing.
He was staring up at me with tenderness.
But no pain.
I gave him that.
Me.
Warmth that had not one thing to do with adela tea surged though me and I dropped my mouth to his.
“More?” I whispered.
“You up for it?” he whispered back.
I felt my lips smile. Then I saw the same in his eyes but I also saw more.
Tenderness.
Satisfaction.
Happiness.
Love.
I gave him that.
Me.
“Absolutely,” I murmured, pressed into him and finished, “Always.”
He slanted his head, his arms curved around me, his mouth took mine and he rolled me to my back.
Then, just like Apollo, he gave me more.
He did it right then.
And he did it again, in nine months, when our son Aether was born.
My namesake is, of course, beautiful, chérie.
As ever, I wish you happiness,
Valentine.
Smiling to myself, I slid the letter back into the envelope, removed the goodies from Valentine’s crib and set them aside. Then I touched the soft pink skin of my baby girl’s cheek.
The pregnancy was not without its normal dramas. The delivery wasn’t short. It thankfully wasn’t long. And it happened in this world by my choice.
And my choice was, this was my world and I didn’t want to leave it.
And there she was.
Proof that the future beamed bright.
In fact, I was standing by the crib of my sleeping daughter, and I was blinded by it.
Even so, I could stand there for days.
But I didn’t.
I moved to the green pouch Valentine had left. I nabbed it, shoved my fingers in the opening and pulled it wide.
Instantly, a glow emanated from the bag.
I stared at the glow a moment before I dipped my nose close and took in a breath.
Peppermint, with hints of vanilla and licorice.
It was then, I smiled.
* * * * *
Apollo fell to his back, taking me with him.
I was breathing heavily, my hand moving over his slick skin, my eyes moving across the room.
There we were in the mirrors Apollo had fitted to the doors of the wide wardrobe—Apollo on his back, his long strong muscled body stretched out on the bed, me straddling him, my forehead in his neck, my na**d torso pressed to his, our bodies connected. My skin appeared creamy in contrast to the olive tone of his.
We looked amazing.
My eyes slid to the two empty china teacups sitting on our nightstand, but they went back to the mirror when I felt his touch.
I watched his hand glide lazily over the cheek of my behind. Watching it, feeling it, I lifted my head and slid up his chest so I had his eyes.
There it was. That look. The first look he’d ever given me.
Minus one thing.
He was staring up at me with tenderness.
But no pain.
I gave him that.
Me.
Warmth that had not one thing to do with adela tea surged though me and I dropped my mouth to his.
“More?” I whispered.
“You up for it?” he whispered back.
I felt my lips smile. Then I saw the same in his eyes but I also saw more.
Tenderness.
Satisfaction.
Happiness.
Love.
I gave him that.
Me.
“Absolutely,” I murmured, pressed into him and finished, “Always.”
He slanted his head, his arms curved around me, his mouth took mine and he rolled me to my back.
Then, just like Apollo, he gave me more.
He did it right then.
And he did it again, in nine months, when our son Aether was born.
