Page 134 of Made for Wilde

“Sir, you’ll need to follow in your own vehicle,” the EMT tells me as they start wheeling Charlotte toward the door.

“Like hell.” I fall into step beside the stretcher. “That’s my woman and my daughter. I’m not leaving them.”

The EMT glances between Charlotte’s face and mine, taking in our obvious connection. “Family can ride along. But we need to move now.”

I climb into the back of the ambulance, my battered ribs screaming in protest. Charlotte reaches for my hand as soon as I settle beside her, her fingers cold but strong.

The doors slam shut, sealing us into the sterile white interior. Red and blue lights flash through the small windows as we pull away from the school, from the nightmare that almost destroyed us.

I take Charlotte’s hand in both of mine and press it to my lips. Her pulse beats strong and steady under my thumb. She’s here. She’s alive. She’s mine.

And I’m never letting her go again.

TWENTY-EIGHT

CHARLOTTE

20 weeks later

The polyester graduationgown itches against my skin as I shift uncomfortably in the hard folding chair. My swollen belly presses against the fabric and creates a tent-like silhouette that no amount of strategic draping can disguise.

Around me, my classmates fidget with their caps and whisper excitedly to each other. They’re unencumbered by forty extra pounds and a tiny human using their bladder as a trampoline. But despite the discomfort, pride swells in my chest as I scan the crowded auditorium.

I made it.

Despite everything. Morning sickness during practical exams, swollen ankles during long styling sessions, and the drama that nearly destroyed my family. I’m actually graduating.

My eyes find Koda instantly among the sea of faces.

He sits five rows back and his massive frame dwarfs the delicate folding chair beneath him. Even from this distance, I can see the pride radiating from him as he watches me.

His dark eyes never leave mine. When our gazes lock, he offers that half-smile that still makes my heart skip a beat eight months into our relationship. Beside him sits Dana, elegant as always in a tailored dress, her perfectly styled hair making me smile.

I smooth my gown over my belly for the hundredth time and feel our daughter shift and roll beneath my palm. At thirty-nine weeks, she’s running out of room in there.

“Just a little longer, baby girl,” I whisper. “Let Mommy get her certificate first, okay?”

Ms. Lowell approaches the podium and taps the microphone twice before launching into her commencement speech. I try to focus on her words about achievement and bright futures, but my mind keeps drifting to the past year. From my first clumsy attempts at a basic blunt cut to the intricate updo that won me first place at the showcase.

From the moment I discovered I was pregnant to the night my father found out about Koda and me. From Adrian’s obsession to the night Koda saved my life.

So much has happened, yet somehow, I’ve landed here, ready to start the career my mother loved so much.

“Charlotte Palmer.”

My name jolts me back to the present.

I push myself up from the chair and feel oddly weightless despite my enormous belly. The walk to the stage seems miles long, but I manage to climb the steps without waddling too obviously.

Dean Fletcher smiles as he hands me my certificate. His handshake is firm and congratulatory.

“Exceptional work, Ms. Palmer,” he says quietly. “Your mother would be proud.”

Tears spring to my eyes as I accept the rolled certificate. I turn toward the audience and search for Koda’s face again. I find him instantly.

His smile is so wide it must hurt.

That’s when it happens.