“Your mom said she can’t wait to be a grandmother,” I say weakly.
“Damn right, she can’t wait. She’s already sent me twenty pictures of the gifts she’s bought for Kinsley for Christmas. She’s chomping at the bit to meet her granddaughter, but I told her she has to wait because you need some time.”
I gasp at his words, warm liquid gushing from my tear ducts. “But…” I don’t even have anything to argue about anymore, but my insecurities can’t stop me from trying. Why is it so damn hard just to let him in? Damn it!
“But nothing, Quinn. I love you, and you love me, and we’re going to get married, and I’m going to adopt Mini-Q, and maybe we’ll even get a dog. End of story.” He grins. “No, not the end of the story. It’s just the fucking beginning.” And then he lifts me off my feet, and proceeds to show me exactly how the story continues—over and over again.
Twenty-Seven
Lachlan
It’s been three weeks since Quinn and I got back together and she put my ring back on her finger. She’s seeing her therapist twice a week, and yesterday I joined her for a session. It was hard as fuck listening to her talk about her insecurities, but her therapist seems to have her on the right track. I know it’s going to take time for Quinn to finally be able to put her past behind her, but luckily, we have plenty of time.
With Kinsley calling me Dad, and the fact we’re planning a wedding, we decided to move in together. I’m still keeping the condo for Declan, but I’m now one hundred percent living in the townhouse with my girls. My girls. Just the thought has me grinning like a damn fool. We’ve hired an attorney to handle the adoption papers for me to adopt Kinsley, and once we’re married, he’ll submit them to the courthouse to make everything legal. We’re aware of Jacquelyn’s threat to seek visitation-slash-custody of Kinsley, but we haven’t discussed it. However, just because we haven’t discussed it, doesn’t mean I’m not handling shit. I have no doubt that woman won’t try to take Quinn to court, but I’m going to make sure it doesn’t come to that.
It’s Christmas morning, and my birthday, and I’m lying in bed alone. I can hear the girls downstairs, though. Quinn is telling Kinsley she can pour the chocolate chips into the batter, and Kinsley is questioning why she can’t eat the batter if she can eat cookie dough.
Laughing at how adorable she is, I get out of bed so I can join them. There’s a massive Christmas tree in the living room. Santa came last night. As Quinn and I put together several gifts so Kinsley would have them ready to go this morning, she kept apologizing for keeping me up until the crack of dawn, especially since it’s my birthday. By the third time, I told her it was enough. What we’re doing here means everything to me.
When Kinsley sees me approaching, she yells, “Merry Christmas! Santa came!”
“I see that! So when do we open presents?”
Kinsley pouts. “Mommy said after we eat breakfast.” Then she perks up. “Oh! Happy Birthday!” She jumps off the stool and gives me a hug.
“Thank you,” I tell her. Then I walk over to Quinn, who’s standing in front of the stove, waiting to flip the pancakes. Pressing the front of my body against her back, I lean down and give her a kiss to her neck. “Merry Christmas, beautiful.”
“Merry Christmas,” she says through a smile. “And Happy Birthday.”
After we eat and do the dishes, we spend the rest of the morning opening gifts. Kinsley squeals and shrieks in excitement over every gift. Quinn and I exchange gifts as well. I bought her a necklace with a mini camera on it, and she got me a new tattoo kit I’d mentioned wanting.
“I also got you something for your birthday,” she says nonchalantly, but when her cheeks and neck turn pink, I wonder what it is she got me.
“Where is it?” I look around at all the ripped up paper and abandoned boxes. Kinsley is currently running each of her toys up to her room.
“In our room.” She smiles sheepishly. What’s she up to?
An hour later, Kinsley has conked out for a nap, and I’ve texted my mom to let them know we’ll be coming over once she wakes up. We’re doing lunch at my parents’ place and dinner at Jase and Celeste’s.
“Can I get my birthday gift now?” I ask Quinn, curious. She laughs and nods, pulling a square box out of the closet.
Setting it on the bed, I open the top to find what looks like a photo album. I take it out of the box and flip to the first page. It’s a professionally photographed picture of Quinn. She’s lying on her stomach, and her sexy ass is slightly in the air. She’s wearing lingerie I’ve never seen before. And she looks fucking stunning. Slowly, I flip through page after page. Different poses, some in the same lingerie, some different, all fucking gorgeous. And not just because every image shows off her perfect tits or curvy hips. But because in every single picture she looks so damn confident and secure about herself.