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And once again, I get that feeling again, like I’m being watched by some divine energy.

I feel my mother’s love all around me, comforting me in the way only a mother can.

I really wanted her to be here on my big day.

And as I look at the orange butterfly on my finger, I think she is.

The butterfly flaps its wings one more time before launching into the air. It flies around Klaus and me before disappearing into the night.

“Are you okay, babe?” Klaus asks.

He’s always been observant. Even when there are so many people present here, his attention is focused on me.

“I’m happier than ever,” I say, smiling up at him.

55

EMMA

It’s Christmas Day.

Soft morning sunlight filters through the glass windows, casting a gentle glow over the entire house. The rest of the house is asleep, but I walk to the kitchen to find Klaus making breakfast.

He looks up as I approach him.

“Merry Christmas, Klaus,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He places his hand on the small of my back and pulls me close, holding me against his hard body.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he says.

I breathe in the scent of his musk, letting it comfort me. His face is buried against my neck,making me feel warm and tingly everywhere.

I twist around in his hold to see what he’s making.

“It smells heavenly,” I say, looking at the cinnamon French toast sizzling on the pan.

He grabs my ass before turning off the stove. He piles three pieces of toast on a plate.

“Eat,” he says, pulling up a stool for me and depositing me on it.

I’ve always had a sweet tooth, but lately, the cravings have been stronger than ever. Klaus didn’t need me to say a thing—he just knew, and now he makes sure I always have something to nibble on.

“It’sdivine,” I say. “Here, have a bite.”

He accepts a bite but makes sure that I eat the rest of it myself.

Since we learned that I was expecting, Klaus has turned into my dietitian. I’ve never seen the man cook, buthe’s a natural. He also makes these high-protein berry smoothies that are to die for.

“I have something for you,” he says when I finish eating. He brushes some of the cinnamon sugar from my lips and puts his thumb inside my mouth.

His gaze turns heavy when I suck on his thumb dutifully. Heat gathers between my thighs as I watch him.

“What do you have for me?” I ask.

He blinks, then steps away. He walks to the Christmas tree and picks up two of the wrapped presents.

The kids had helped decorate the tree—carefully hanging each ornament with beaming smiles.They were so proud when it was done.