We surface, and I’m once again sitting on Langston’s lap. He starts working my shoulders, and I melt. I try to push out my fears and do what Langston said—just enjoy tonight. His touch helps. I can’t help but relax.
“Where should we go on our honeymoon?” Langston asks suddenly.
I turn my head to look at him. “What honeymoon?”
“The honeymoon we are going to go on after we get Declan.”
“But—”
Langston kisses my lips, shutting me up. “Where?”
When I still don’t speak, Langston says, “Humor me. Do you want to go somewhere warm? Another beach? The mountains?”
When I don’t answer, he continues throwing out ideas. “Paris? The Maldives? Sydney? San Diego? St. Lucia?”
“Stop.”
“What? I need to imagine a life after this—a month-long vacation that’s just the two of us. I love our kids, but I want to do very dirty things to your body to make up for lost time, and I can’t do that with them around. We’ll make it up to them with a trip to Disney World or something afterward. And they’ll have fun playing with Kai and Enzo’s twins.”
I scoot off his lap, wanting to look him in the eye when we talk.
“Does it bother you that our kids aren’t biologically yours?” I know it doesn’t, but it heals my heart to hear him talk about the kids, to know he will always be their father, no matter what else happens.
“No, it doesn’t bother me. They’re mine,” he growls.
I smile.
“Even if their father wasn’t a dead motherfucker, they would still belong to me.”
Then another thought pops into my head that I can’t dismiss; I have to know its answer. “I know you already think of Atlas and Rose as your kids and that you will feel the same way about Declan, but…”
“But what?”
“Do you want biological kids? Kids that look like you, share your mannerisms, your blood?”
“Rose already looks like me with her blonde hair and adventurous spirit. And Atlas mimics every behavior of mine that he can. The other day I caught him trying to use my razor to shave his face,” he chuckles at the memory.
His laughter stops when he sees how serious I am. I need to know the
truth.
His eyes drop to my stomach beneath the bubbles. He still thinks there is a chance I’m pregnant, that I can be the one to provide him with a biological child.
I should tell him the truth, but I can’t—not yet. It could ruin his whole world, and not when there is still a tiny fraction of a chance that—
“No, I don’t need a biological child. I have Rose, Atlas, Declan. I never thought I’d make a good father with the example I had as a father.”
“Langston, you’re a good father.”
“I know. I’m not perfect, but I do my best, and our kids know I love them. Being loved by them, having you in my life, it’s more than I could have ever imagined. I don’t need a kid that shares my blood to make me happy, but if one comes along, I’ll love them too.”
Can’t. Feel. My. Heart.
“Is something wrong?” Langston asks.
I shake my head.
He snickers knowingly. “Something you want to tell me?”