I stood at her grave that was marked by a cheap, flat stone, the etching only her name and the dates that marked her birth and her death.
There were no claims of beloved mother or daughter or wife. There were no scriptures or sayings about a soul lost too soon that would never be forgotten.
A shiver raced down my spine when the presence stepped up beside me. Grace threaded her fingers through mine.
My support.
My consolation.
My reason.
I squeezed her hand tightly, my chest stretched so tight I was struggling to pull a breath into my lungs, grief a blur in my eyes as I inched forward and knelt at the place where my mother had been laid to rest.
And I prayed that she was.
At rest.
At peace.
That she knew that I forgave her.
Grace eased up behind me and set her hand on my shoulder. I reached up and gripped it tightly, needing her comfort and her love and her support.
Eyes squeezed tight, I exhaled a tremor of remorse and my own peace.
Because kneeling there, I knew it was time to forgive myself.
I turned my head so I could press my mouth to the inside of Grace’s wrist before I released it and pressed my fingers to my lips.
With that hand shaking, I reached out and touched my mother’s headstone.
Kisses are for the ones you love most.
* * *
I knelt in front of Grace and slipped the cream-colored shoe onto her foot. “There,” I whispered, gazing up at her. “To misplaced slippers.”
She smiled down at me, all that blonde hair cascading around her.
My angel.
My Cinderella.
My wife.
She reached out and caressed my face, the bangle on her wrist tinkling as the charms knocked together as it slipped down her forearm.
A ruby, a diamond, a sapphire, and an amethyst.
I pushed to standing and held out my hand. Grace accepted it, allowing me to help her stand. She stumbled a little.
I smirked. “Knocking you off your feet.”
“Good thing you’re always there to catch me.”
I leaned forward, pressed my mouth to hers, slipped my hand down her delicate neck. “Always.”
“Always,” she whispered back.
I stepped back, taking her hand. “We’d better go or we’re going to be late.”
“I still can’t believe this is happening. Are you happy?”
I fiddled with an errant piece of her hair, staring at the woman who had changed everything.
The one who’d seeped in and got under my skin.
The one who’d breathed new life.
The one who’d taught me what it meant to love.
“I think I have to be the happiest man in the world.”
Because Jace had been right.
Money didn’t buy happiness.
I weaved my fingers through hers and led her out our bedroom door and down the hall. We slipped into the nursery, and I went right for the crib.
Collin gurgled and cooed, his little fist working with all its might to get to the giraffes that spun on his mobile. I scooped him up, lifted him out in front of me.
The sweetest smile pulled up one side of his crooked mouth, and I brought him to me, kissed him there, breathed him in.
Let my heart fill full.
I handed him over to Grace who nestled him in her arms, and the two of us headed down the stairs of the modest two-story house we’d purchased in Broadshire Rim, two minutes from Jace and his family.
We edged down the stairs, our house full of laughter as everyone was there in anticipation of our celebration.
My brother was there with Faith at his side. Bailey, Sophie, and Mallory were in the middle of the living room chanting an alternate version of ring-around-the-rosie, all of them bursting out into laughter when they fell to the ground.
Thomas was playing with Benton on the floor, helping him build large cubes of Legos.
Couldn’t stop my grin when I saw Grace’s grandmother flirting with Mack where they stood by the table.
Our attorney smiled when he turned around. The paperwork had been signed by the judge that morning.
My heart tremored and expanded, emotion soaring, pouring free and somehow filling me up.
My shattered world whole.
I dropped Grace’s hand and moved for the table where the documents were spread out, ready for me to sign.
Mallory was suddenly at my side, jumping up and down, shouting, “Do it, do it, do it!”
My smile was soft when I turned to look at her.
Mal Pal.
I touched her chin, kissed her head, breathed her in.
Sophie ran over. I scooped her up into my arms and pressed my lips to her cheek.
Thomas appeared at my side, the little man that he was, eyes poring over the papers.
He looked up at me.
For reassurance.
For a sign.
For a promise.
I ran my hand through his hair, making his head tip back. I dropped a kiss to his forehead.
I lingered there for a beat.
This little boy who reminded me so much of myself.
Kisses are only for who you love most.