Page 222 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two

“And I’m never taking it off, Mr. Sandoval. In fact, I have an idea,” she says, rubbing her thumb over my knuckles with a beaming smile.

EPILOGUE

STORM

“You know, this is not how most people spend their anniversaries,” Shae says as we stand at the entrance to the hospital hand in hand. I lean on my cane, taking confident steps to get to the automatic doors, even if my pace is slow.

I grin from ear to ear, floating on a motherfuckin’ cloud.

“Since when are we most people?” I say, looking to my beautiful bride.

It’s hard to believe it’s been eight years since I woke up from a coma, broken, scarred, and scared. And more difficult to believe that Shae saw me in all my parts and stood ten toes down for me. Instead of running away while I was stuck in that damn hospital bed, she called the chaplain, and we were married right there in room 602 with Kaylee, my nurse on that shift, as a witness.

I rub the inside of Shae’s wrist, wishing I could communicate how damn grateful I am for the gift of her.

“Why are you guys so late?” This comes from Tempest, who rushes out of the hospital with one hand on her hip and the otherclutching a clipboard. She marches over to us, a scowl on her face, and I cut her off.

“You don’t wanna know why your mama and I were late, baby girl. I promise you don’t,” I say. When I wink at her, my teenage daughter’s expression turns to horror, then disgust.

“Ew!” she yells, turning away from us. “Rai, you deal with them because I cannot!”

Raiden chuckles as he walks out of the hospital, his voice always startling with how deep it is at fifteen years old.

“Nah, sis,” he replies. “You told me I was on kid duty, so that’s all you.” He exits the chapel with our six-year-old son on one hip and our three-year-old daughter on the other.

“Here, take this one,” Raiden says, foisting off our youngest, Imani, to his sister. Imani rests her head on Raiden’s shoulder with her thumb in her mouth, but she doesn’t protest when transferred to the other sibling.

“Ugh, fine—wait a minute!” Tems sniffs the air around Imani’s behind, then holds our toddler out like a bomb. “Raiden! Oh, my God!”

Raiden grins, and it’s like looking in a mirror.

“You’ve got this, sis. Diaper bag’s inside,” he says, setting our son, Amir, to the ground.

Tempest gives Raiden a terrifying look, then stomps back inside with Imani giggling all the way.

Amir stands silently for a moment next to his brother, but then Raiden says, “Gotherrrrrr!” and Amir bursts into bright laughter, high-fiving his brother.

“Ugh, Raiden,” Shae presses. “Don’t tease your sister. You know she’s stressed out.”

Raiden rolls his eyes.

“No one told her to plan a vow renewal—in a week’s time, nonetheless,” he replies accurately.

“Well, you know how she felt about not being there when we got married the first time,” Shae says calmly.

Raiden shrugs.

“Dad almost died and you two practically had a shotgun wedding. She needs to get over that,” he says, as if that’s the most practical statement in the world.

“Let your sister be,” I say, putting the arm that’s not using my cane around Shae’s shoulders.

“She’s a drama queen!” Raiden protests.

“But she’sourdrama queen,” Shae says patiently. She maintains her hard look, staring Raiden down, but then she winces and all of us move into action.

“It’s okay,” she says, holding her swollen belly with both hands. Her white, flowy dress draws tight over the proof of her pregnancy.

Our last, according to Shae.