Page 132 of Defending You

“No, but also, the fact that I earn in a year what you probably spend on shoes.”

“First of all, don’t be ridiculous. All my extra money goes to jewelry.”

He tried to smile, but her casual words didn’t change anything. Shoes, jewelry, whatever. He couldn’t afford it.

“Second, I told you, I make my own way. My parents have money, but they don’t support me or my sisters. I know what it means to struggle to pay the rent.”

Right. But if Cici’s income fell short, she had a safety net, and that was a huge difference between them.

Except, maybe not that huge.

“Third,” Cici said, “my father’s opinion isn’t going to dictate my life. Not anymore.”

“You sure about that?” Because he got the impression her dad’s opinion meant everything to her.

“I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’ve been trying to earn his approval my entire life. Trying to be the perfect daughter, make the perfect choices, to prove that I’m worth something.” She looked out at the ocean. “You know what I realized when I was tied up in that warehouse?” Her gaze found his again. “Life’s too short to live it for other people’s expectations.”

“But your father’s opiniondoesmatter.”

“Maybe, but how much? Enough that it affects how I live?” She shook her head, then winced, reminding him of all her wounds he couldn’t see. She continued as if the pain were irrelevant. “I’ve spent so much time trying to prove I matter that I forgot to actually live the life God gave me. To choose what I want instead of what I think will make other people happy.” She touched his face, her thumb tracing his jawline. “I want you, Asher. I want us. Everything else is just details we’ll figure out.”

The conviction in her voice, the certainty in her touch…

And why was he arguing with her? She was everything he wanted. If she wanted him, too, then what kind of an idiot would he be to talk her out of that?

He pressed his palms to her cheeks. “I love you, Cici Wright. And I’m going to fight for you, even if it means taking on that scary dad of yours.”

She laughed, but he didn’t miss how her eyes sparkled with tears.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he returned her embrace, careful, so careful, not to hurt her.

This precious, incredibly breakable woman he loved.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The Wright family estate felt like heaven this Labor Day afternoon, with four generations sprawled across the expansive deck overlooking the Atlantic.

Cici shifted in her deck chair, watching Callan’s eight-year-old daughter, Peri, holding Grant’s eight-week-old baby while Summer, Grant’s wife, hovered nervously nearby.

Cici’s grandparents reclined in a nearby seating area, chatting with Mrs. Ballentine, Forbes’s grandmother, who’d been adopted into the family along with Forbes.

Mom and Aunt Peggy were bustling around, refilling drinks and pushing appetizers. Dad and his brother, Uncle Roger, were playing horseshoes in the yard.

The late summer sun painted everything in golden hues, the overlapping conversations creating a symphony of belonging that made Cici’s heart overflow with gratitude.

Delaney was missing, her absence the only pall on the gathering.

Two weeks had passed since the horrifying incident that had changed Cici’s life. Her bruises had faded, though her ribs still ached. She was eager to feel normal again, if not to get back to work.

“Aunt Cici, look!” Peri held up the tiny baby like a trophy. “She smiled at me!”

“That’s probably gas,” Callan called from where he flipped burgers at the grill.

“Daddy! That’s not nice!”

Cici grinned, catching Asher’s eye on the far side of the little seating area. Also there were Michael, his wife, Leila, and the youngest Wright brother, Derrick. His wife—Leila’s twin—had just stepped away.

The sight of Asher fitting so naturally into her family’s chaos made something warm unfurl in her chest.