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Tessa

NINE MONTHS LATER

“They’re both asleep. Finally.” I look up to see Caitlin returning from the nursery as I sift through various proposals from high school charity teams looking for support or seeking funding from KidStation.

I heave a sigh of relief. “You’re a miracle worker, Mom. I can never get them to sync up like you can.”

“It's just a bit of experience,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I wish you could stay here forever.”

“Well, make another set like those two, and I’ll consider it,” she teases.

I throw my mother-in-law a horrified look. Having twins once has been enough of a trial, albeit rewarding, but I can’t imagine adding two more kids into the mix. At least, not anytime soon.

She seems to consider the idea as well, because she laughs and shakes her head. “Actually, on second thought, maybe not.”

She heads toward the kitchen. “Now that the twins are down for the count, Tess, how about some profiteroles and a mug of black tea?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

“Coming right up,” she says, chuckling at my excitement.

She just made me lunch two hours ago. I’m not particularly hungry for a snack yet, but I eagerly accept.

When Caitlin offers tea, it’s not just tea—it comes with quality, hilarious gossip, and sensational tips. She’s always full of interesting stories, likely thanks to her frequent travels, her wide network of sophisticated friends, and just being an amazing person.

I see where Nathan gets his caring nature from. I don’t know how I would have managed my pregnancy and the twins without Caitlin. But as attentive as she was, even she called me an “adorable mutant ogre” by my third trimester.

As if my regular need for Nathan wasn’t enough, my pregnancy cravings were off the charts—and to my utmost embarrassment, they were all about him. His smell, taste, and his calm dominance.

So, Boston was every bit the nightmare I imagined because he was always out of reach, and video calls simply didn’t cut it.

Things improved as soon as I got the nod to complete the last half of my semester online, given how close I was to giving birth. But Nathan had to work. I still cringe remembering how clingy I was just before Skye and Hazel were born.

Caitlin and Lyle practically took turns keeping me company while Nathan was at work, but they’d vanish the moment he came home. Then, I would shamelessly gorge on my husband.

I’m finally starting to feel normal now that the twins are a little over two months old, and I’ve started planning a fresh project, although most of my work is from home.

KidStation has been a huge success. While Zara managed the project during my coursework, I returned to find that demand had skyrocketed.

We needed to expand, and that required significant investment and creative strategies. Since I was planning to start my own NGO in LA anyway, Walter had agreed to sell me the full rights to KidStation.

Caitlin returns with tea and snacks, prompting me to set aside my laptop and pick up a steaming mug. “So,” she begins, “it’s been a whirlwind of events since the wedding, one thing after another.”

“You’re right,” I agree. “We literally haven’t slowed down.”

Nathan and I were married in a small ceremony just days after my college graduation. The past nine months have flown by—settling into married life, dealing with a twin pregnancy, starting my NGO, attending frequent court hearings, seeking closure through my mom’s journal entries, and navigating individual and family therapy sessions have all taken their toll on me.

“Just the other day, I had breakfast with Nathan. Our first in months,” she reveals.

“Really! I thought you guys did that at least once every month.”

The bond between Nathan and Caitlin is so beautiful that Lyle and I would never dream of interfering.

A pang of sadness hits me as I recall when Nathan first told me about his twin. I can only imagine how close they were.

I didn’t understand at the time why my mom coming between them was such an issue. Now, after thinking about it, it would be cruel to try to break that kind of bond.

“So, how did it go?” I ask.

“My God, I could hardly recognize my son. He's happy, sure, but the transformation in these last few months…” She shakes her head as a soft look enters her eyes. “Tess, he’s been alone for so long. When he lost Ciaran, it was like he lost a part of himself.”

“How so?”

“Well, Ciaran was the broody one, a chip off the old block, while Nathan was always the life of the party—quick to smile, quick to laugh.”

“Like his mom,” I chuckle.

“True. It was... good to see the old Nathan back. And I know that I have you to thank for that.”

I incline my head in modesty, unable to hide my happy grin. “I really haven’t noticed much change in him, though.”

“I think it’s because you got the whole package from the start. You didn’t miss anything. He couldn’t really keep any part of himself away from you. But I lost those parts, and it’s great to have him back.” She grasps my hand. “You’re the perfect partner for him, Tess.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “Thanks, Mom. That means the world to me.” Especially since there was a time when she thought the opposite, even if it was brief.

We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, holding hands, each lost in thought, wistful smiles on our faces.

I think Caitlin has chosen today to tell me about reconnecting with her son because somewhere in the Criminal Courts Building, John Blackwell is currently being sentenced for his crimes.

I stopped attending the trial after giving my testimony; it was too harrowing and it stirred up feelings of guilt. Like I should have seen through him, said something to the police earlier.

The most shocking part of the trial was the discovery that there were three other victims he’d murdered in a similar fashion.

One of his ex-girlfriends, an employee, and his younger cousin, Abel Blackwell, whom we all thought had died of carbon monoxide poisoning in his garage.

I made the decision to separate myself from the proceedings from then on.

Nathan, on the other hand, felt closure in seeing the end of the man who tore his life apart. Besides, he’d taken a plea bargain to help convict John in exchange for the dropped assault charges, so he needed to see it through.

As for the “lab,” it’s been raided by the government. Extensive tests are being conducted on CX3, with ongoing investigations and arrests being made.

Apparently, for the past few decades, the Blackwells have been secretly distributing the substance on the streets. While large doses could be lethal, in small doses, it’s been found to render victims passive and easily influenced—a sinister and potent means of control.

The courts wisely decided to keep this information away from public knowledge, fearing it could spark widespread outrage but also interest among those with a malevolent desire for control.

Caitlin squeezes my hand. “It’ll be over soon, darling, and then, all of us Kings can put this whole sordid mess behind us."

Her emphasis on our name doesn’t escape me; she knows how much I’ve struggled with being a part of the Blackwells.

I nod in response, unable to swallow past the large lump in my throat to verbally reply.

“Now, time for a subject change. Did I ever tell you about the French sex therapist a friend of mine met in Dubai?” Caitlin starts.

Of course, I know by now that her stories are never about a friend. They’re always her experiences. “Oh, my God, spill!” I urge, sitting up straight. “Did you guys…?”

“Well, that was before Lyle, and I was much younger then,” she says, as if issuing a cautionary preface to her juicy tale.

Raising an eyebrow, I ask, “How much younger are we talking?”

She sniffs, caught in a playful fib. “Like a year ago,” she admits.

I burst out laughing.

She dives into her tale, but our laughter is soon interrupted by the front door opening.

It’s Nathan.

I look up, and I marvel because he still has the power to take my breath away. He stands tall and broad, his crisp, white shirt contrasting sharply with his dark hair, which is peppered with hints of gray on both temples. His smile broadens when he sees us both.

Glancing at the tea and snacks, he teases, “Extra juicy gossip today, Mom?”

Caitlin stands to embrace him. “Well, today’s extra special, isn’t it?” She lets him kiss her cheeks, then heads to the nursery, leaving us alone.

Nathan approaches me with a smooth grace, and I wait until he’s close enough to pull me into his arms.

I go eagerly, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. When he feels me straining to get even closer, he knows what I need and instantly hauls me up while I wrap my legs around his waist, basking in his familiar embrace.

“Are you close enough now?” he teases.

“Hmm, yeah.” I smile into his neck, not even feeling the tiniest bit self-conscious about my need and love for him.

“How are you, baby?”

“Good.” I inhale his skin. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Skye and Hazel?” he asks.

“Sleeping for the past half hour. They both went down minutes apart, would you believe it? Your mom’s a miracle worker.”

“Of course she is. Ciaran and I gave her plenty of experience.”

“I’m sure.” I chuckle wryly. “So, what’s the sentence?” I ask about the final hearing.

He exhales deeply. “Life without parole.”

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the wave of emotion. It's no surprise, considering the unanimous guilty verdict and the pre-sentencing hearing's details. “And how was that for you?”

“It won’t bring Ciaran back, but it holds someone accountable for his death.”

I hug him tighter, offering him comfort the one way I know how. “Do you ever think... if John didn’t have the CX3, perhaps...?”

“Mary would surely have left him for Ciaran. Who knows, maybe she wouldn’t even have married him in the first place.”

“And I wouldn’t have been adopted by them. We might never have met,” I muse. “You could have been with someone else.”

“Hmm. But as it happened, life broke me. I wasn’t looking for love until Fate concocted my personal brand of crack and shoved her under my nose.”

I cheekily retort, “You mean shoved her onto your big cock.”

Nathan chuckles, shaking his head. “Theresa King, what am I going to do with your dirty mouth?”

“I don’t know.” I murmur suggestively, “You could try washing it out with your—”

His palm connects with my butt in a hard smack, and I squeal in pleasure.

“That’s it. That’s exactly what we’re doing. Right fucking now.”

Giddy laughter bursts out of me as he practically jogs us toward the bedroom.

And since we’re being bad today, I might as well break all the rules, so I can get the punishment I deserve.

I reply, “Well, well, Dr. King, we're eager today, aren't we?”

THE END

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