Worth Any Cost

  She laughed, and I relaxed, not even realizing that I'd been mentally holding my breath. "It's hilarious that you enlisted Jordan to purposely cock-block yourself ahead of time, from thousands of miles away."

  "Glad you find it funny."

  "I didn't at the time." She sent me a glance from the corner of her eye. "I found it incredibly frustrating."

  A skateboarder, heading straight at us, swerved at the last minute. I cast a scowl in his direction as he passed.

  "That makes two of us. And the beginning of long weeks of frustration."

  She smiled wryly. "Not unlike recent events. I wonder why this keeps happening to us?"

  My hand tightened around hers. "Let's hope we've seen the last of it."

  The breeze kicked up a notch, raising the ends of her hair to form a halo around her head. She released my hand and reached up to grab at her hair, slipping an elastic from around her wrist to form a makeshift ponytail. "It's a small price to pay for the love of a lifetime, right?"

  "We'll make up for it, I'm sure."

  Two more minutes and we were at the gate to the small bridge that led to Bay Island. I opened it for her, and we crossed in silence.

  She stopped at the halfway point over the bridge, gazing down over the water.

  I halted beside her. "What's up?"

  She didn't say anything for another stretch of minutes before letting out a breath I didn't even notice she'd been holding. "Something that wasn't mentioned in your letter. Something I think we need to talk about."

  I turned around to face her, mildly alarmed by her serious tone. She took up both my hands in each of hers. With our arms, we formed a bridge of our own, parallel to the one upon which we now stood.

  Her head came up, and I suddenly perceived that she was on the edge of tears. Resisting a frown, I swallowed, bracing myself for whatever it was.

  "What about--babies?"

  And there it went, the bottom of my stomach. Stupidly, I hadn't expected that question. And I had no answer for it.

  Those brown eyes bored into the back of my soul. "Will there be babies, Adam?"

  Somewhere in the deepest reaches inside of me, someone flipped the switch on a deep freeze. I swallowed again. No. I wanted to say it in the most final of voices. I wanted to put that foot down now. Nothing that threatens your health. Ever. Ever again.

  But I said nothing.

  She blinked, continuing to stare. And those eyes--those beautiful eyes--welled up with the largest, clearest tears I'd ever seen. "Please, Adam," she whispered hoarsely. "I need an answer."

  I shook my head. "I don't know."

  Was it my voice that trembled like that?

  The tears breached the rims of her eyes, spilling in thin streams down her sculpted cheeks. How could happiness turn to sorrow in the literal blink of an eye?

  This fabric we'd woven together, this mesh of us, was made of joy, of pure love, of humor, of shared experiences, pain, sex, arguments, discussions, and practical jokes. But there was that one sharp pinprick of sadness that we always seemed to avoid acknowledging.

  That one razor-edged sting that could draw blood with its sharpness.

  That loss.

  "So it will only ever be the one?" Her voice trembled, and she bit her lip then took a breath to continue. "The one lost baby we can never hold? Never watch grow up?"

  Her face, so filled with emotion, highlighted the void inside myself. Like there was a barrier containing my feelings where this issue was concerned. This part of my heart was tucked somewhere far back in a deep, dark corner.

  Resolution filled me. I wanted to answer her in definitive terms. But how could I? Given the tears, given how difficult it even was for her to bring it up, I knew this was important to her.

  This loss still haunted her. In truth, if I could stand to admit it, it haunted us both, even if for different reasons.

  The least I could do was give her hope.

  But I wouldn't give her empty promises, no matter how much she needed that hope.

  So I needed to decide here and now what I would give her. What I could give her.

  "I'm not going to say no," I murmured. No matter how much I want to. The fear, it was rising up again, choking me. Memories of the tears we'd shed during that dark, troubling time. Memories of carrying her, passed out in my arms. Memories of coming that close to losing her. Could I bring myself to face that fear again? I want to say no--but I won't.

  She nodded, lifting one hand to swipe across her cheeks. "For now, I only need that. A promise that you'll keep an open mind when the time comes."

  An open mind. Something I definitely wasn't known for.

  I remembered Jordan's words now, that decision I'd come to the day in my office when we'd talked. I loved that control. I'd mainline it like a drug if I could. Twenty-four-seven. Without hesitation.

  I was addicted to control, and I wanted this control over our future. No kids. No pregnancies that might damage her health. Just us. Her and me.

  But every addict had to face the challenge of resisting his drug of choice, right? Had to fight against that pull to indulge? An open mind. Despite everything in me crying out against it, I pushed against that barrier. It would be a struggle when the time came. And I knew it. But it wasn't a battle I needed to fight now.

  I took a deep breath, mentally fortifying myself. "I can do that."

  "You can?"

  I nodded. "I promise you an open mind, Emilia."

  That smile...the one that pulled at the corners of her mouth and crowned her flushed, tear-stained cheeks. That was worth the promise alone.

  Just please, God. How I hoped that promise wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass someday.

  Chapter 16

  Mia

  Consider this "personal prenup" my Husband's Manifesto, to use your terminology. Should I start out with a list of all the marital injustices enacted against wives throughout time immemorial, or should I just start with us?

  I vote for us. Because that's the only thing within my power, and though I can't see the future, I know that--with you by my side--every joy will seem brighter, sharper, more colorful and every disappointment will be duller, more distant.

  I've made mistakes in the past, and they were painful for both of us, but I'm being philosophical and calling them learning moments instead of mistakes. Because I have learned from them, Emilia. And I promise you...

  I promise you I will never take my vows to you lightly.

  I promise to be open with you when I feel we might have the slightest hint of trouble

  I promise to listen when you come to me with a problem.

  I promise to compromise.

  I promise to cherish the moments we are together.

  Downstairs, the front door opened and closed. I tucked the document back into its envelope after having reread it so many times I couldn't even count. Soon, the print would start fading along the creases from unfolding and refolding it so often.

  Hopefully, he had no idea. He'd never let me hear the end of it.

  Grabbing my purse, I bounded down the stairs to kiss him goodbye. It was midafternoon, and he'd done another almost-full day at work. Unfortunately, I had to go. Bride business and all that.

  "I bought the new Marvel movie and downloaded it to the TV. Don't you watch it without me," I ordered as I pulled him into my arms.

  He bent down and kissed me. "Nope. But you better not be out all night, or I will."

  "I'll be back after dinner. It's just Heath and Kat."

  His brow furrowed. "How's Heath doing? Better?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. I've been touching base with him every day and giving Kat pep talks for how to deal with him. Together, we'll hopefully keep him on track."

  Adam nodded.

  "Go take a nap. You look tired."

  "Maybe."

  My brows came up. "What's this maybe? You want me to rat you out to your doctor?"

  His mouth quirked. "You're tedious."

  I smiled. "It's
Wife Prep 101. Be prepared for me to bring the nag. Go. Nap. When you wake up, I'll be back to watch the movie with you."

  My meeting with the bride's dude and his assistant went well. Kat was all kinds of excited to get to St. Lucia. In three short weeks, we'd all be there. December had just started. The days were shorter and chillier--even for California. Though there still wasn't enough of the much-needed rain.

  The Caribbean would be a nice change.

  I got home to find Adam sitting downstairs in the audiovisual room with a book in his lap, patiently waiting for me to return. He'd napped. I could tell by his messy hair.

  And he looked yummy--even in board shorts and a long-sleeve t-shirt.

  Hunger is the best spice, my mom often liked to say. And when it came to Adam, I was ravenous.

  We didn't make it that far into the movie before realizing that we couldn't keep our hands off each other. It all started out so innocently, too. Snuggling together in a big recliner made it difficult. His chest was hard, drawing my hands to it as if that was their sole purpose. Soon he was reciprocating, lightly touching my breasts. These advances were not unwelcome.

  Adam paused the movie right in the middle of Captain America's rousing speech so he could pull me into his lap and kiss me soundly. Our lips locked, and I scooted up his lap, settling right against his prominent erection. God, he felt so damned good.

  He rewarded me with deep groan as I rocked against him. This sex blackout had been torture. Only a few more days.

  But some make-out time wouldn't hurt, would it?

  Adam's hands were up my shirt, slipping inside my bra to tease my nipples. But he didn't seem satisfied with that level of access. His tongue pushed deeper into my mouth as his hands grew more frantic. With a growl, he tugged on my bra, and the garment creaked in protest.

  "You're going to break it," I muttered against his mouth.

  "I don't fucking care. I will buy you dozens of bras. I need to suck on your nipples." He tugged again, and the plastic piece holding the strap on snapped. "Now."

  "Yes, sir." I laughed, leaning back to pull off my shirt and bra in one fell swoop.

  "Ohhh, yes...that's what I'm talkin' about." He reached up and cupped me with his big hands, fingers closing firmly over my breasts. "Shit...I missed this."

  I leaned into his touch, replying, "Me, too. I was trying to be good and not change in front of you or anything."

  Without another second's hesitation, he leaned forward and fixed his mouth firmly on one lucky nipple as I arched my back, closing my eyes and seeing stars. Hot arousal bloomed between my legs as my nipple tightened happily in his hot mouth. Jesus.

  "We, uh,"--Gulp.--"We should probably--"

  He rubbed the edge of his teeth against my nipple, looking up at me with those burning, dark eyes.

  "Oh, fuck." I groaned. It felt so damn good.

  "I'm gonna make you come."

  "You shouldn't..." I breathed though damn, I wanted that more than breathing right now.

  "Why the hell not?"

  "Because you can't."

  He sighed, pulling away. "In two days, the doctor is going to tell me that I'm cleared."

  "I saw the sonogram of your spleen. It was bad, Adam. I want to make sure you aren't permanently impaired."

  "Sex is not going to impair me. Sex is natural. Sex is good. Sex is best--"

  I burst out laughing and ran a hand through his messy hair. "If our roles were reversed, you wouldn't be touching me with a ten-foot pole. Don't deny it. I'm not the only overprotective one in this family." He opened his mouth to protest, but I prevented it. "Who's the one who insists on doing breast exams on me every few weeks, even though I do them myself at the proscribed times?"

  He ran his thumbs over my nipples again. "That's because I love your boobs. It's no chore doing an exam."

  "Adam..." I bent to put the tip of my nose to his, but he wasn't returning my gaze. He was transfixed by what he was doing to my nipples. And I had to admit it felt damn fantastic.

  He glanced up, those dark eyes meeting mine. "If you're going to make me wait for an all-clear, I'm not going to be happy."

  "What would you do? Be honest."

  He gritted his teeth, jaw bulging. I had him, and he knew it.

  His hands dropped from working their magic on my chest. I almost cried. "Fine. But if I don't get any, neither do you."

  I stuck my lip out. "Meanie."

  "Oh, I'm going to be extremely cranky these next few days. Better be prepared for it."

  I stooped to scoop up my shirt from the floor and slip it over my head. "You've been legit ornery for the past few weeks already. I'm prepared."

  "And yet you still want to marry me."

  I waggled my eyebrows at him. "Yup. You're stuck with me, Drake."

  He took a deep breath and let it out in a long-suffering sigh. Reaching around, he grabbed my butt with both hands and pulled me against him. "Best news I've heard all week."

  Then he scowled and pushed me off his lap. He wouldn't turn the movie on again until I moved to my own recliner, declaring me--and my boobs--too much of a distraction.

  After I stopped laughing, I complied, warning him that once he got the all-clear, we'd be all over each other.

  A storm was coming, and it would be raining orgasms. Hurricane Adam, indeed.

  ***

  The next day, Adam was still moping as we got ready to go to a lunch meeting. I would have offered him an out to stay home, but he was the one who had set up the meeting in the first place.

  And I wasn't going to this meeting without him. Even if Mom and Peter were going to be there, too.

  After a few months of exchanging emails with Glen Dempsey, I'd finally agreed to meet him in person. We'd reserved a room at a local Italian restaurant, La Cucina, which had a window overlooking the cliffs of Corona Del Mar, a golden sand beach.

  We stepped into the restaurant, expecting to be the first ones, being that we lived less than ten minutes away. But Glen sat at the table, chatting with my mom and Peter, who had all preceded us. We entered, and Glen shot out of his chair. Peter and Mom followed suit.

  I paused, waiting stiffly as Mom introduced us, studying my older half-brother. He did not resemble me in the least. After seeing photos of his other family members, it was easy to see they all resembled their mother.

  He was of medium height and stocky build, fair coloring, with the palest blue eyes I'd ever seen. And he had the best smile. Wide, honest, open.

  He appeared to be everything his father was not. At least from what I could judge. I knew next to nothing about his father aside from the crumbs I'd suffered to hear from my mother.

  Glen's eyes widened. "Hi, Mia. It's an honor to finally meet you."

  He was as affable in person as he'd been in his emails. I smiled, reaching out my hand to shake his. "Glen."

  He shook my hand. "You're as beautiful as your mom."

  Mom and I thanked him in unison.

  I introduced him to Adam. Glen shook his hand, congratulating us on our impending wedding. Then we all sat. I buried the awkwardness of the moment and wondering what to say as I studied the menu.

  Thank goodness for appetizers--and wine--to loosen the mood.

  Glen wasn't the awkward one. It was all me.

  "Thank you again for sending me that folder of medical information," I said after the small talk lulled.

  He smiled. "It was the least I could do. And I mean that completely. The least anyone in our family could do for you."

  I blinked and avoided peering at my mother. "It--it must have been difficult for you to get your father to sign the release for his records."

  Glen hesitated then returned his eyes to his plate as he cut his meat. With a shrug, he replied, "He's a man of sense. When sense is pounded into him, he responds appropriately."

  I nodded, but didn't reply. It still stung, the knowledge that Gerard been reluctant to give his medical records to me, even while I was undergoing treatment for can
cer. That he hadn't cared enough to respond to my mother's request.

  Glen cleared his throat and met my gaze. "I'm not going to defend him, by the way. He hasn't done right by you, and that's on him. But I will say that you haven't missed much, Mia. Honestly, he hardly knows the three kids that grew up in his house. He's a crappy father."

  In spite of that downer pronouncement, it was still a little gratifying to hear. That his neglect and disdain hadn't been personal to only me. Those feelings came with more than a small pinprick of guilt, however.

  "I'm sorry," I murmured for lack of anything else to say.

  "Don't be. One by one, our relationships with him have deteriorated or become damaged beyond repair. One of my sisters cut him off completely. The other barely speaks to him. I'm the only one who tolerates him, and that's more for my mom's sake."

  I nodded, chewing my chicken breast thoughtfully, wondering about his mother. What kind of woman must she be? Was she like the Real Housewives from my dinner out--the ones who spoke of tolerating their husbands' indiscretions out of necessity?

  "She's aware of you, by the way. She's known for quite some time."

  Silence. I peeked at my mother, whose features appeared perfectly smooth and unaffected. This wasn't news to her, then. But did she appear paler, or was I imagining it?

  "Well, I'd say I'm sorry if my existence has caused her pain--"

  My mother nudged me under the table. Not lightly, either.

  "More like my father's existence has caused her pain," he scoffed.

  Whether Glen was exaggerating the idiosyncrasies of his father in order to put me at ease, I didn't know. But I was grateful to him for the effort, nevertheless.

  Our lunch was pleasant, and when it was time to go, Glen asked for a moment alone with me. After a nervous glance at Adam, who nodded his reassurance to me, the rest of the party left to wait for me at the entrance of the restaurant. I stood in front of Glen, shifting from one leg to the other.

  He pulled an envelope from his jacket and held it in front of him without offering it to me. "I need to explain this first before I give it to you. I didn't know about you until recently, but as I said, my mom has known for a long time now. She didn't actively monitor what was going on with you, but was aware of your circumstances and your age. All of us received a trust fund dispensation at age eighteen to cover our college with our full payout of the trust fund at age twenty-three, or whenever we graduated college. She insisted my father set one up for you, which he did. But he refused to make you aware of it."