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Five and a half years later...
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“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO you. Happy birthday to you!”
Emma clapped her hands, wriggling in her chair to blow out the candles. “Stop singing! Now. I wanna blow now!”
Clamping hands on her tiny shoulders, I held her squirmy form in place. “So impatient.”
Nila smiled, snapping the happy moment with the camera. The same camera Tex bought us for our wedding anniversary last year. At the time, I was grateful but not overly-excited.
In my world, photos and videos had been a reminder of bad things. I’d prefer not to catalogue such recollections. However, that was before I thumbed through a stack of prints Nila had taken of me playing unaware with Kes and the foxhounds one afternoon.
I’d frozen. So sure the man she’d captured was a total stranger. I didn’t see the guy in the mirror staring back every day when I shaved. I looked upon a man who knew his place, loved his place, and was happy. Truly happy.
My heart glowed as my wife clicked and imprisoned special portraits of Emma’s fifth birthday. That camera—something so small and simple—had become so precious, capturing irreplaceable memories, colouring moments of treasured time.
In my spare time—not that I had much between running the Hawk empire and raising two demanding children—I dabbled in film exposure. I’d transformed one of the many parlours in the Hall into a dark room. I preferred the old-fashioned way of developing. I got to touch the faces of my children, be the first to witness my wife’s stunning smiling lips as the chemicals morphed her from nothing, to black and white, to vibrant colour.
Almost like how she’d brought me to life with her love, breaking me free from my self-imposed prison and granting magical pigment to my world.
Kestrel grabbed the edge of the table, throwing his head back dramatically for the birthday song. “Happy birthday to Velcro Smells. Happy birthday to you!”
I rolled my eyes as Nila bopped him on the head. “Don’t call your sister that.”
Kes rubbed his tussled hair. “What? She does.”
“I do not.” Emma stuck her tongue out. “You smell. You stink like, like, like...a hedgehog.”
Nila bit her lip so she didn’t laugh.
I couldn’t stop myself. My eyes met Jasmine’s, and she burst into giggles. “A hedgehog? What the hell?” My sister looked at my wife. “Where have you been letting them play? I had no idea hedgehogs even had a smell?”
Vaughn bent over, coming back from the kitchen where he’d pilfered a few of last year’s brew. This mix wasn’t thistle and elderberry like at my father’s birthday so many years ago, but lavender and honeysuckle. The liquor was strong, but I doubted I’d ever grow a palate where I would crave it. I preferred the expensive cache of cognac we had in the cellar. Not that I needed alcohol to be happy.
Thanks to Nila and my children, I lived in a state of bliss. Even when Kestrel and Emma were cranky and tangled with childhood emotions, I still basked in their love. I learned how to let my condition have full control of me because I had nothing to fear by soaking up the feelings of my beloved family.
Nila put down the camera and came to stand beside me. Her hand landed on her daughter’s fuzzy black hair. Her face tilted toward mine, and we shared a brief kiss. Her eyes shot a silent message. I’m having you the moment it’s appropriate.
My gaze hooded. I’m having you regardless of appropriate time or not. The minute this cake is cut, you’re mine.
She sucked in a breath.
Forcing myself to look away and remain tethered to the room full of people, I smiled at the family and friends celebrating Emma’s birthday. It drained me—so many people in one space all at once—but the afternoon of medieval games with jousting, dress-up, bouncy castles, and even a re-enacted sword fight had been worth the emotional strain. All day we’d had a child’s dream out on the front lawn with water pistols and a petting zoo—combining old-world charm with modern simplicity.
Emma and Kestrel had explored every secret I’d set up for them and my chest warmed with pride to think I’d given them more than a childhood day of fun—I’d given them a happy childhood, and that was immeasurably priceless.
Merged voices rose together, singing the final line of the song. “Happy birthday to you!”
The burly men of the Black Diamonds—the ones vetted, vouched, and commanded by Flaw all clapped and cheered. V hipped and hoorayed, waving his arms and stealing a giggle from Emma while Tex shoved the five candle cake closer toward my daughter.
Five years old.
Fuck, time flies fast.
My heart twinged like it always did on big occasions. Small occasions, too. Every moment when I stopped and took the time to wonder how I got so fucking lucky. In those same seconds, I often thought of Kes. I remembered my brother, I missed our friendship, and I ached to share what I’d been given.
The guilt of his death still coagulated my heart. He shouldn’t have died. If anyone deserved to survive during the massive purge of evil in my family, it was him. Nila knew how I felt, how I struggled to be deserving that I lived and he didn’t.
She helped me accept it. And time helped soothe it.
Kes might not be with us physically, but sometimes, I’d get a sense of his quiet humour as I wandered around the Hall. I liked to believe a part of him remained with us, watching over us until our time came to join him.
“Make a wish.” Nila bent over, holding Emma’s hair from catching fire as she jumped up in her chair and puffed her tiny cheeks. The little hellion planted her hands on the table, about to face plant into the pale pink icing of the castle cake.
“Wait.” Nila shook her head. “Before you blow, did you make a wish?”
My ears pricked. I wanted to know what my daughter wished for so I could make it come true. My entire existence was to make sure every desire materialized. Within reason, of course. I wouldn’t raise a spoiled brat.
Emma pouted, her eyes locked on the cake. “I made one already.” She bounced in her frilly pink tutu. “Please, can I blow? I wanna blow. I made a wish. This is taking forever. I want cake!”
Kes laughed. “She’s crazy.”
I pinched his arm. “Don’t call your sister crazy.”
He slapped my hand playfully. “Whatever. You’re crazy. Mums crazy. We’re all crazy.”
Well, I couldn’t really argue with his logic.
“Muuuumm!” Emma squealed. “Let me blow!”
Nila laughed, letting her go. “Go on then, make sure you blow all five out at once. Otherwise, your wish won’t come true.”
Emma froze, soaking in that vital piece of information. She glared at the cake as if she’d wage war on the frosting rather than eat it.
She’s so damn fierce.
I smiled.
She took after her mother.
Nila’s black eyes met mine. She whispered under her breath, “Do you think she wished for a prince, a pony, or one of those silly flying fairies she saw last week at the store?”
I wrapped my arms around her middle, pulling her back to my front. I kissed the soft skin of her throat above the diamond collar. “I don’t care. I’ll make sure she has every one.”
Her heart thudded against mine. “Even the prince?”
I reared back. “Hell, no. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the next Rapunzel. Hawksridge has plenty of towers to keep her in.”
Nila giggled. “Good luck with that. She’ll just scale it and run.”
“Run?” I nuzzled the back of her ear. Two words never failed to get a rise out of me. Run and Kiss. ‘Run’ because it reminded me of Nila being brave enough to try and escape, and ‘kiss’ because it was the moment she broke me and made me hers.
Emma had inherited her mother’s bravery and exceeded even her brother in tree climbing acrobatics. I didn’t know where she got the skill, but she loved being in the treetops more than on the ground.
A sudden memory of Nila hiding naked in the trees filled my mind. Blood siphoned through my body, swelling my cock. I subtly pressed my hips into her arse. “Talking of trees and running...”
She tensed then melted. Her arm looped up and behind her to secure around my neck. “If you bring a plaid blanket, I’ll make sure to give you what I gave you then.”
Kissing her cheek, I breathed, “Done.” Lowering my voice even more, I whispered, “You really have to stop using those words. It’s highly inappropriate that I’m hard at my daughter’s birthday party.”
Nila swivelled in my arms, planting her mouth to mine. Her lips fed me kisses as well as barely audible conversation. “You really have to stop making me love you so damn much.” Her eyes met mine. “Can you feel it? How overflowing I am? How I don’t know how to contain it tonight? I just...I need you.”
The rest of the room faded—the world always did when Nila touched me.
“I do. I feel it.”
She cocked her head. “What does it feel like?”
I glanced at Emma, who still hadn’t decided how to blow all the candles out at once. “It feels like slipping into the hot springs beneath the Hall. Warmth and contentment lapping around me with a slight edge of pain from being too hot. But, unlike the hot springs, I don’t have the discomfort of knowing I’ll have to climb back into the cold and leave the warmth behind. You give it to me constantly.”
Nila kissed my cheek. “You’ll never be cold again.” The double meaning of her words—that I would never be unloved again—throbbed.
Clearing my throat, I pushed her away and invited the room back into my attention. “Keep saying things like that and we won’t see the rest of the party.”
Nila half-laughed, half-scowled. “I’m torn in which I want more.” Turning, she faced the table and Emma.
Kes rolled his eyes, never looking away from his sister, waiting impatiently for dessert. “Come on already.”
“Pushy.” Emma grinned, puffing out her little cheeks. Her lungs expanded and she blew raspberries rather than air but managed to get the flames to turn into curling spirals of smoke.
The room erupted into claps and cheers.
Emma didn’t acknowledge the bikers or billionaires, secure in her place within their adoration. However, she did squeal and dance uncoordinatedly on her chair.
Nila grabbed Emma’s tutu, just in case she toppled over. “Good girl. I have no doubt all your wishes will come true.”
Kes stood by, his mouth watering. He didn’t care his sister’s spit just ended up all over the cake with her blowing attempt. All he wanted was sugar. Kid turned high as a damn kite whenever he had sweets. In that respect, he didn’t remind me of his namesake. My brother had never truly let himself go—never been crazy or adolescently stupid.
At the time, I thought it was just him, but now, I think he did it for me. If he’d let himself get carried away, I wouldn’t have had any choice but to be carried away, too.
Letting Nila go, I slipped my hand into my back pocket and squeezed the hidden box. Nila had seen this gift, but Emma hadn’t. It would be the last present but the most valuable.
All day Emma had gratefully accepted gifts. I loved that she genuinely appreciated everything—from socks and sherbet to a new swing-set and pony. Her young emotions filled my heart to bursting, and in an odd way, I was able to relive my childhood through her, replacing unhappy times with excellent ones.
“Down. Down. I want to get down.” Emma pointed at the floor.
Nila calmly plucked Emma from the chair, placing her on the travertine. “Don’t go anywhere. I believe Daddy has a present for you while I cut the cake.”
Nila’s black eyes met mine. We’d been together for such a short amount of years, yet it felt like she’d been mine for eternity. I would never grow sick of waking with her in my bed, or sharing my breakfast with her by my side, or helping her sew late at night even though her needles drew more of my blood than I liked.
I love you.
She beamed. I know.
Tearing my gaze from hers, I dropped to my haunches and motioned Emma to come closer. It was surreal to protect and raise children named after two people who had meant the world to us; two people who’d died in the war between our houses. Kestrel had adopted some of my brother’s quirks, but not all, and Emma doted on Textile in a way that made me wonder if she suffered a little of my condition.
There was no avoiding the avalanche of love and underlying despair from Tex that his wife wasn’t there to see her grandchildren grow. Emma would hold his hand and sit quietly on his lap, plastering up his hurt with quiet affection.
Taking my daughter’s hand, I looked toward the outskirts of the room. My sister-in-law, Jacqueline, lingered in the background. She’d come for a few days to celebrate Emma’s birthday but couldn’t shake the wariness the Hall invoked in her. Hawksridge had not been kind to the Weavers, and she hadn’t accepted her lineage that easily.
Nila and Vaughn had gone out of their way to welcome Jacqueline into their midst, but she’d been raised differently. She’d been a single child in a stuck-up family. She didn’t know how to handle large gatherings—and in that respect, I could relate.
We had happier times when we visited her in Cornwall—where Jacquie lived with her husband. There, on her own turf, her emotions were relaxed and confident while she lavished her little niece and nephew with love and antidotes.
She was a good aunt. However, her spiky black hair couldn’t be any different to Nila’s river of ebony. She shared the same eyes, same figure, same liquid grace, though.
Nila and Vaughn grew up believing they were twins; to find out they were triplets had taken some getting used to. However, the underlying history and mystery kept a moat from forming an intricate bond just yet.
In time, it would form. Nila would eventually warm her sister and help her dispel the remorse that she wasn’t there to help. Shame was a powerful thing and Jacqueline couldn’t shake the regret that she’d been firstborn by a few minutes, yet she hadn’t paid the debt.
She didn’t even fully understand the ramifications of the debt. Didn’t care to dive too deep into history.
My heart thundered. If Jacqueline hadn’t been secreted away and hidden, she would’ve been mine, not Nila. And the end to the Debt Inheritance might’ve been completely different, because even though I tolerated Jacqueline, I didn’t connect with her. Her emotions were scatty and undeveloped compared to her sister. She would never have had the power to reach into my ice and shatter me from its hold.
My arms itched to hug Nila again. To thank her. To love her for being her.
So I did.
Straightening from my crouch, I quickly embraced my wife before dropping back to my haunches in front of Emma.
Nila accepted my hug with a soft smile, almost as if she’d followed my thoughts.
Emma smelled of cheese puffs and sausage rolls from the special treat for her birthday dinner. “Did you enjoy riding Hocus Pocus today?”
Emma clapped her hands. “I did. She’s amazing. Can I go again? Right now?”
I swam in her infectious energy. “Not tonight. Tomorrow. We’ll all go for a ride over the chase.”
“Can we bring the birds? And the hounds? And Nemo?”
“Nemo?”
Emma looked at Nila. “You said you’d ask, Mummy.”
Nila rolled her eyes affectionately. “Nemo is Emma’s name for a kitten we saw advertised in the village. I told her we had more than enough pets.” Ruffling her hair, she smiled. “You just got a pony. That’s enough animal presents.”
Emma pouted. I tensed against childish demands, but she balanced her emotions with such maturity, that pride washed through me.
“I know. Hocus is amazing.” Leaning in, she pecked my cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”
My heart shattered with love.
It’d taken almost a year to source the perfect foal for Emma. I’d ordered a filly from the breeder who’d given me the colt for Kes.
At almost eight years old, Kes had become a proficient rider and rode with me daily, trotting beside me, cantering with courage, exploring the borders of Hawksridge as I taught him the value of land and heritage. Now, Emma could join us on her midnight filly called Hocus Pocus.
Letting Emma’s sticky hands go, I reached into my back pocket for the box. Passing it to her, the room quieted as I kissed her soft cheek. “This will mean more to you when you’re older, but I wanted you to have it now. Promise me you’ll take great care of it and never lose it.”
Her black hair bobbed as she nodded furiously. “I promise.”
I laughed softly as she grabbed the red box and cracked it open. She had enough experience opening jewellery boxes. One of her favourite places was Diamond Alley and raiding Nila’s precious collection. She said she wanted her mother’s collar—even tried to pry it off one day with a nail file. Little did she know that it would’ve been on her little neck if she’d been born to another man in another time with the Debt Inheritance still in affect.
She was a Weaver girl. But now that name didn’t come with such a curse.
Her little mouth parted as she took in the black diamond necklace I’d shown Nila the day I officially asked her to marry me.
Nila caught my gaze, twirling her engagement ring, letting me know her thoughts were with mine. She didn’t need my condition to understand me—that came from unconditional love and a lifetime of listening to each other.
Helping Emma remove the chain from inside the box, I dangled the teardrop in front of her. “This is very special. Do you recognise the stone?”
“Yes.” Her black hair bounced.
I’d never met a brighter child. She could memorize and recite diamond cuts and their flaws and attributes. She’d learned a few words in Swahili last time we were in Africa and even given the kids at kindergarten clothing advice from watching Nila effortlessly pin and style simple calico into a glorious gown.
She was a perfect blend of both of us. A magical piece of Nila and me.
“Where did you see the stone?”
She pointed at Nila’s left hand. “Mummy’s ring and bracelet.”
“That’s right. And now you have one, too.”
“Because you love me as much as her?”
I laughed, gathering her in a hug. Kestrel moved in grabbing distance and I squeezed him in a group hug. “Because I love both of you as much as her. I love you all.”
Nila subtly wiped sudden dampness from her cheeks, busying herself with cutting the cake. Jaz rolled closer, helping stack paper plates and take those full with pink frosting to a few of the Black Diamond brothers and family.
Once the room had received their piece of confectionary, Jaz wheeled toward me and handed out the plates of cake on her lap to my children.
Pinching Emma’s nose, she said, “Now the present giving has ended, how about some cake? I want to eat your wish, little Velcro, so I can make sure it comes true.”
Kes slung his arm over his sister. With boyish fingers, he grabbed the icing and smeared a huge handful into his mouth. “About time.”
The room laughed.
And my world was perfect.
* * * * *
I was drunk.
Not on liquor or intoxicating substances but on happiness.
Pure, unadulterated happiness.
Such a cliché expression: I’m drunk on happiness. But for the first time in my life, I could positively say it was true.
“Hey, man, we’re gonna push off.” Vaughn clasped my shoulder, squeezing tight.
The last few hours had passed in good company and gentle conversation. The crowded parlour had dispersed after the cake had been devoured and Tex and Jacqueline had gone to their guest rooms while Nila and I retired to the newly decorated den with the children. Jaz and Vaughn had joined us, pulling out Twister and other silly games to tire Kes and Emma.
“You’re safe to drive? You guys can just crash here.” I smirked. “It’s not like we don’t have the room.”
Jaz smoothed the blanket over her legs, reclining beside Nila. “V has the clothing line reveal tomorrow. We want to get back tonight.” Her eyes landed on Vaughn. The intimacy and tenderness between them layered my happiness.
I never thought my sister would leave Hawksridge, let alone find love and support her chosen partner in the limelight, where her disability was questioned and discussed. But she had and she’d never looked better.
The fireplace crackled warmly, the burgundy drapes ensconced us away from the rest of the world, and the scattered bean-bags and toys on the floor painted Hawksridge in a completely different light than the one that’d existed for so long.
“Do you need any final adjustments?” Nila asked, running her fingertips casually through Emma’s hair.
My daughter’s energy level dwindled. She remained awake, playing Legos with Kestrel, but the long day finally sneaked closer to sending her into slumber.
Vaughn waved dismissively. “Nah, I’m fine. You’ve given me enough of your time making the men collection perfect.”
Nila glowed. “Anything for you.”
Vaughn beamed. “Ditto, sis.”
Over the past eight years, V and I became fast friends. He was prickly and opinionated, smug and sometimes arrogant, but he adored his twin and was besotted with my sister. He adored the ground Jasmine wheeled over and treated her with the utmost care and respect.
His friendship soothed the hole left behind by Kes, giving me the comradery to share a beer at a local pub or just discuss meaningless things, but he’d never be able to fill the emotional void left by my brother—nor did I want him to.
I enjoyed V’s company, but he didn’t control his thoughts around me like Kes could. I knew far more than I needed to about how much he loved Jasmine, how much he found the power in her forearms from wheeling herself around a turn on, and how much he longed to cradle her in his arms after a long day at the Weaver factory.
I shifted in my wingback, nursing the small amount of cognac I’d poured. “Well, I wish you the best of luck for the reveal.”
“Thanks.”
Taking a sip of amber fire, I asked, “You up for clay shooting next weekend?”
V rubbed his hands together. “Damn right, I am. Gonna kick your arse after the last beating you gave me.”
“Come up for the weekend.” Nila ran a hand through her long hair, loosely draping the strands over her shoulders. She’d slipped into a knitted jumper, and her hair weaved with the wool. I loved that the length was the same as the day I claimed her.
Jasmine smiled. “Sure. Sounds good. We’ll come up on Friday and spend a few days with you guys.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Glancing at Vaughn, I pointed a finger. “However, if you’re up here to shoot clay and play with your niece and nephew, then no sleeping in until midday.”
Jasmine swallowed a laugh.
V simpered. “Hey, blame that on your sister. She likes mornings and things that happen in the morning.”
Nila clamped hands over Emma’s ears while Kes looked up with a confused glance. “V!”
He laughed, shrugging. “What? I won’t get blamed for sleeping in when it’s not my fault.”
I tossed back the rest of my drink. “Gross. I don’t want to hear thank you very much.”
V chuckled louder, ducking to slug my bicep. “Figured you’d knocked up my sister, might as well try to return the favour.”
I choked on a mouthful of cognac. “Excuse me?”
His eyes gleamed as he glanced across the room at Nila and Jasmine, sitting side by side on matching bean-bags. Jaz used her chair, but V had become her legs. He seemed to know when she wanted to move, lifting her effortlessly from her chair and placing her wherever she wanted. Sometimes, he’d just randomly pluck her from wherever she was and march out of the room, only to return thirty minutes later with wind-pinched cheeks and swollen lips.
As much as I ribbed Vaughn for stealing my sister, I couldn’t be more grateful. He’d given her a new life. He’d expanded her walls, given her a fresh world, and I’d never seen her so happy.
In summer, she had a tan from V pushing her through sunshine fields and carrying her to nap in the orchard. In winter, she sported a red nose—the only thing exposed seeing as V went out of his way to bundle her up so tightly.
For someone who’d never left the Hall, she now travelled with him on buying trips for his company, laughed more, and lived her life rather than just existed.
Vaughn looked at the picture-perfect scene before us. His joking switched to solemn want. “You have rugrats. Wouldn’t it make sense for them to have cousins to grow up with?”
I frowned. They’d taken a long time to make that decision and I didn’t think it was from lack of wanting children but Vaughn’s fear that Jasmine wouldn’t cope being pregnant.
I tried to block out the prying ability of my condition, but kids had been on their minds for a while. They’d either figured out the issues causing them grief or had finally decided to let nature take its course.
Nila looked up, making eye contact with me across the room. The rugrats V mentioned sat in front of her and Jaz. Two black and bronze-haired demons I wouldn’t change in the slightest. The thought of filling the ancient Hall with laughter instead of tears was a perfect goal.
Clinking my empty glass with Vaughn’s knuckles, I smiled happily. “Deal. Make Kes and Emma a few cousins but first...marry my damn sister and make an honest woman out of her.”
V laughed. “Believe me, I’ve been trying. She accepted my ring but won’t set a date.”
I caught Jaz’s eyes. I knew why. She tried to hide it, but her thoughts were always broadcast on a loud frequency. She didn’t set a date because deep inside, she still didn’t feel deserving of Vaughn when she wasn’t ‘complete.’
I didn’t care I would sound stupid and let on just how many secrets I harboured, I whispered, “Jaz, you are complete. You’re more than any other woman I know besides my wife.”
She sucked in a breath, her eyes glittering with flames from the fire. “Thanks, Kite.”
Vaughn paused, letting the random sentences fade before joking, “Besides, are you sure you want a Hawk to become a Weaver? What happens if some tyrant tries to claim our firstborn Weaver daughter in a few years?”
My heart panged, watching Nila and loving her so much it hurt. “They wouldn’t take yours. They’d come after mine. I was the one who was supposed to change his last name, remember? But I didn’t and the curse is broken. It’s finished. Done. Over.”
Vaughn sighed. “My mum would be proud of you, you know? Proud of how you stopped it and saved Nila.”
I remembered Emma and her iron-gentle spirit. I’d grown to care for her during her short stay and looked up to her for how strong she was. “I should’ve saved her.”
“We all agreed not to live in the past, remember?” Stepping away from me, Vaughn headed toward the women and two little ones by the fire. “We have a new future to enjoy.”
Without conscious thought, I stood and followed him. Nila smiled as I stood over her, looking down at the two dark heads of our children. Her fingers wrapped around my bare ankle. “I missed you.”
My heart swelled and cracked, pouring with adoration and contentment. “I missed you, too.”
Dropping to my haunches, I positioned myself beside her and dragged her from the bean-bag and into my lap. Nuzzling her neck, I kissed her diamond collar and then her petal-soft skin.
She moaned under her breath, “I think it’s bedtime...don’t you?”
My eyes dived into hers, telling her without words that I needed her so goddamn much.
A small hand tugged on my jeans. “Daddy, story?”
I sighed. So much for bedtime.
I rolled my eyes dramatically. “And why do you think you deserve a tale, tiny Emma?”
Nila reached out and tickled the little girl who looked exactly like her. Same cheekbones, chin, and lips. However, Emma had my eyes—Hawk eyes—a trait so strong every single sibling of mine shared. “Where are your manners, Velcro?”
Emma giggled at Nila’s nickname for her. On her second birthday, she’d fallen into a basket of Velcro teeth ready for invisible zippers. Her soft cotton jumpsuit latched onto the plastic thorns, ensuring untangling her took a lot of tugging and cursing. The damn child now had an addiction to pulling apart Velcro; she loved the noise.
Kestrel abandoned his Legos, shuffling closer to lean against my thigh. “Can we have a story? Just one. Please?”
I couldn’t help myself. Looping an arm around his small shoulders, I hugged him. Nila on my lap and Kes and Emma wedged against my sides—what could be more perfect? “You want a story?”
Emma bounced up and down, but Kes merely nodded. His thoughts sweet, steadfast, and protective. He adored his little sister. And if she wanted a story, he would make sure she got a story.
His golden eyes locked with mine, pleading. Goosebumps darted down my arms, wondering, if in some small way, my brother and best friend might’ve found a way to communicate via my son.
Kes wriggled in my embrace. “Tell us a story. Just one. Then bed. Promise.”
Nila laughed. “How often have we heard that?”
Kes smirked, a lock of hair curling on his forehead. “Promise. Hope to die. Cross my heart.”
Jasmine giggled. “Got that back to front, Kessy.”
Kes stuck out this tongue. “Daddy knows what I mean.”
I laughed softly as Vaughn slid to the carpet, resting his back against the chaise and scooping Jasmine into his lap. “You’re right. I do know what you mean.”
Kes clapped his hands. “Good. Gimme the story then.”
“Story! Story!” Emma curled up, cocooning all of us in a family bubble.
This right here.
This was happiness.
And I was no longer drunk on it.
I was infested by it.
This was my family.
My new chosen family.
We won.
Nila’s thoughts washed over me in an influx of honey and serenity. Her heart swelled with love.
Squashing my two children, I grabbed my wife and kissed her hard.
Kes pretended to vomit, and Emma squealed. Jasmine and Vaughn just groaned, “Get a room.”
Nila broke the kiss, her onyx eyes glowing with tenderness. “I guess we owe these demons a story.”
“I guess we do.”
“I’ve got a story.” Vaughn tickled Kes. “A story about a dragon and a little boy who got gobbled up.”
“No!” Kes struggled, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh. “I like Daddy’s stories.”
My eyebrows rose. “My stories?”
I didn’t understand. Nila was the story queen. She’d trawl the internet for every Disney animation, picture book, and tale she could find. I’d just linger in the dark, listening to her sultry voice and grow drowsy with the two infants before she put me to bed and used her mouth in other ways.
“Yes, we want the story of you and Mummy!” Kes looked at his sister. “True story, right, Em?”
Emma clapped her hands. “True. True!”
Vaughn muttered under his breath. “God, I think you’re a small statistic of parents who should never tell their kids how they met. It’s not like you shacked up at some bar and made a drunken mistake—that’s a bad enough tale to have, but mentioning a beheading for a debt from the 1400’s...kind of far-fetched.”
I chuckled. “It is far-fetched...but perhaps that’s what makes it a good story?”
Jaz narrowed her eyes. “How do you mean?”
“I mean life isn’t meant to be generic and follow a pre-approved script.”
Nila murmured, “If it did, where would the adventures be...the dragon-slaying knights and unicorn-riding princesses?”
“I’m a princess,” Emma announced, poking herself in the chest. “I am. Me.”
I grinned indulgently. “And what sort of princess are you?”
She suddenly shot to her tiny feet and soared around the beanbags in her pink tutu with her arms stretched wide. “I’m a Hawk princess.”
Nila grabbed her mid-run, tickling her and blowing raspberries on her neck. “A hawk, huh? Not an eagle or a kite or a vulture?”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “No, silly. A hawk.” Pointing at me, Nila, and Kes, she said, “We’re all Hawks.”
Nila’s thoughts tangled between marrying me and taking my last name and the fact that Jasmine would soon become a Weaver. We’d swapped roles. Blended our bloodlines.
Gathering my family closer, I said, “Okay, you want a story? I’ve got a story.”
Instantly, the children hunkered down, their amber eyes locked on me. Jaz, V, and Nila placed me in the centre of attention, waiting for me to spin something crazy and fantastical.
But I wouldn’t do that.
I wouldn’t dishonour my children by lying to them, and I wouldn’t discredit the past and not learn from history. They wanted to know the story of how Nila and I met? Okay, they’d hear the truth, and it was up to them to deem fact from fiction.
My children would be the opposite of what I’d been groomed to be. They would be kind and helpful; they’d never want for anything, but they would know how to help others less fortunate. They would be better.
“Once upon a time, there was a seamstress named Needle and Thread.”
Emma sighed, snuggling closer to Nila. “She’s like you, Mummy.”
Kes shook his head defiantly. “She is Mummy.”
My heart fisted with love. “That’s right. Now, stop interrupting.” Taking a deep breath, I hugged them harder. “One night, Needle had the largest party of her life. Kings and queens came from everywhere to see her magical creations with lace and cotton. She’d worked for years to create something so perfect and a dress that defied all beauty. A dress with feathers and diamantes and silk.”
“And the naughty prince ripped it off her.” Nila kissed my cheek, granting the secret words directly into my ear. “He threw her on his gallant steed and stole her into darkness.”
Placing her head on my shoulder, she breathed, “But he was already in love with her, so he’d lost the fight before it’d begun.”
Kes and Emma couldn’t hear what my incredible wife whispered, and I fought the urge to steal her away again and show her just how much I wanted her for eternity.
I fought the urge while my children waited for me to continue. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Nila. “I was, you know.”
She tensed, her eyes meeting mine. “You were? The text messages? They were enough to fall—”
“Fall in love with you? I think I fell in love with you when we met the final time when you were thirteen.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You wouldn’t. I was supposed to say hello, but I couldn’t ruin your day. You looked so happy. So I watched you in the park and gave my heart to you without even knowing it.”
“Story! You’re forgetting the story.” Emma tugged on my sleeve, her face open and eager. “Please...”
Nila shifted in my arms, kissing me gently. “I loved you when you were Kite007. I loved you when you were Jethro Hawk, and I loved you when you finally became mine.”
“Ewww.” Kes stuck his tongue out.
With my soul about to split open with joy, I forced myself to ignore my wife and continue with the tale. Once the children were in bed and Jaz and V had gone, I’d spend the rest of the night showing Nila just how much I adored her and how glad I was that our story existed.
My voice threaded around the room, plaiting with the crackle of the fireplace. “Where was I? Oh yes, that’s right. The dress Needle and Thread created was the most incredible thing anyone had ever seen. People offered to buy her castles and paradise for the chance to have her sew for them.
“Everything seemed right in the world, but Needle didn’t know that a monstrous prince was coming for her. That he’d lied to her for months, sent secretive messages, and stolen her heart without her knowing.” I paused for dramatics, squeezing Kes and Emma tight. “He’d been sent to hurt her.”
“No!” Emma squeaked.
“Oh, yes.” I nodded sadly. “His task was to hunt her, hurt her, devour her.”
Kes balled his tiny fists. “But you didn’t let the bad prince take Mummy, did you?”
I lowered my voice, turning grave. “I did.”
“No! Why?”
“Because...I was the bad prince. I’d been given a task to prove I was royal enough to inherit the realm and faraway castles, but no matter how bad I was, Needle had a magic I couldn’t fight.”
I settled into the soft bean-bag, diving committedly into the tale.
I wouldn’t sugar-coat.
I’d tell them of the debts and pain. I’d gloss over things too old for their young ears, but I would ensure the message behind the history remained.
I believed everyone had a tolerance for darkness because life wasn’t just light. Life wasn’t rainbows and bunny rabbits nor good luck or easy fortune. Real life was hard. There was mess and lies and heartbreak. They deserved to know they’d suffer tragedies as well as triumphs. They needed to be equipped to deal with losing as well as winning. Because that was what made an empathic human over a monster.
And no matter how twisted and terrible our story had begun, our belief in love and tenderness turned fate’s plan. Our dreams came true and were even more precious because of what we’d survived in order to earn it.
“There’s darkness inside all of us.” I glanced at my children, making sure they paid attention. “Some of us let it rule us. Some of us let it destroy us. And some of us rise to the challenge and fight it.
“All it takes is for that one person to believe that they’re worthy. That we won’t bow to poverty or hate or greed. That our life can be better than the shadows we let creep over it.”
Emma nodded, but Kes turned sombre, turning over my words, soaking in the wisdom beneath.
Nila had won because she fought against the darkness.
And I’d won because I’d embraced my truth.
All it takes is for one of us to be brave enough to turn on the light.
“So the bad prince hurt Needle?” Emma whispered.
“Yes, he gave her to the trolls in the forest to extract tolls and payments for things she hadn’t done.”
“If she hadn’t done them, then why could they do that?”
“Because they thought they were better than her and she owed them.”
“That’s mean.” Emma pushed out her bottom lip. “Stupid trolls.”
“I know,” I agreed. “Very unfair and against every law of the land they lived in.”
“So...what happened?” Kes asked, his face alight with interest.
“Yes, Kite, then what happened?” Nila brushed her lips across mine, her soul sewn completely to mine. “If the story started so cruelly, how does it end?”
I had the perfect answer.
The only answer.
The most brilliant thirteen-word reply ever uttered.
Kissing my wife and hugging my children, I murmured, “The only way such a tale can end...
...
They lived happily ever after.”
