At first, my only thought was of caring for her and her unborn child. The thought of her out there in the big bad world alone damn near broke my heart. That, plus the fact that I hated having her out of my sight, had pretty much sealed the deal for me. I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it as sappy as that sounds. In fact, the very thought of letting her go made me sick.
I’d never wanted to hold onto anything as much as I wanted to with her and the child she carried. I’d had some fear that she might be averse to physical contact with a man because of what had been done to her, but even so, I’d wanted to marry her, to make her mine. It was the only way I knew of to keep her safe, giving her my name. Sex at that point was just an afterthought even with as much as I’d come to want her.
I needn’t have worried; my Sofia was the most passionate creature I’d ever taken to my bed. I think I was subconsciously trying to make the kid mine as often as I fucked her in the ensuing months. There’s no way she could doubt my commitment after that. I didn’t spend all my time dragging her off to my bed; in between bouts of the most amazing sex I’ve ever had, I showed her my heart in many other ways. All the ways I could think of to bind her to me.
I’d shielded her from the worst of the backlash from my parents when they objected so strongly to our union. In that time between me trying to convince them to give us their blessing and our eventual elopement, we’d grown so close that there was hardly a time when we weren’t together. I did it out of fear of someone hurting her if I wasn’t there to shield and protect and because I’d started to feel like I was missing a limb if she was out of my sight for too long.
I’d fallen more and more in love with the person she is, the girl I imagine she’d been before tragedy struck. I’d done everything possible to draw her out more and more, showing her that she was more than her past and convincing her each day that she was in no way responsible for what had been done to her. Eventually, she’d come to trust me. And from that trust, a love that nothing could break had grown.
There had been a lot of fallout over our elopement, as was to be expected, not the least of it coming from Charlotte and her family and acquaintances. But I’d shouldered all the blame there, too, and shifted whatever animosity was felt towards her onto me. It didn’t take everyone long to realize I meant business when I threatened to end anyone who fucked with her.
My parents were pissed, to say the least, but I think my standing up to them and defying them for the first time showed them just how serious I was about her and what I felt for her. Their threats of disinheritance fell on deaf ears along with everything else they could think to throw at me. Besides, Gramps had left me more than enough to live on for the rest of my life; I’d just be kicked out of the family, which, although heartbreaking, wouldn’t be half as bad as the alternative.
Because my life came down to her and me against the world, my love had only grown tenfold in the time we’ve been married, contrary to my mother’s prediction that she would bring me to ruin.
We’d moved here to New York because as mad as I was at my parents, I didn’t want to be that far away. I still have that in me, that respect and loyalty to them, even though I’d defied them.
At first, it was hard on her, thinking that she was the reason for the rift in my family. It had taken days spent buried inside her to bring her out of her funk and get her to see things my way.
I would never be happy without her in my life. And though it was a fucked up thing to admit about parents that I’d loved my whole life and who’d loved me in return. I’d rather have her and lose them than the other way around.
I did everything in my power to erase the shadows from her eyes and mine, almost trying to erase her past. So I filled her days with light and laughter and built her a kick-ass nursery in our new home so she’d know the baby was part of my love too.
I think it was then that the strong bond that now exists between us was born, the fact that I had accepted the son or daughter she carried wholeheartedly as mine. I’d spent hours playing with her tummy as it grew and even more talking to the kid as he or she moved around in there.