Page 27

TWENTY

ALEJANDRA

We get home just as the sun is setting, casting a warm golden light through the windows.

The house feels different now—quieter, almost like it’s been waiting for us to settle into this new life.

I carry Zoe in the baby carrier on my back, her small body pressing gently against mine as I feel her soft breaths.

She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. With the exception of her father.

Gage takes a deep breath when we walk through the door, like he’s finally shedding the weight of the world.

But I know better. He’s still carrying a lot.

I see it in the way he holds himself, like he’s constantly ready to fight.

I don’t know if he can let go of that, but I hope—God, I hope—I can help him.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Gage says, his voice rough but soft, and I nod, watching him head toward the stairs.

He’s already peeling off his shirt before he even reaches the bottom step.

I turn my attention back to Zoe, making sure she’s settled securely in the carrier on my back.

I caress her head and smile when she makes a soft gurgling sound, her little fingers reaching up as if to grab at the world around her.

I move toward the kitchen, taking a deep breath.

I need to make dinner—something that feels like home, something that will ground me in the reality of today.

Albondigas. I promised Gage I’d make it for him.

Since it’s my favorite, a comfort food that always brings me back to home, and I guess, in a way, it’s what I need right now too.

A bit of comfort after everything that’s changed so fast.

I open the fridge and pull out the ingredients, working on autopilot for a moment.

The smell of fresh cilantro and garlic fills the air, and I take a deep breath, letting the familiarity of the cooking settle me.

Zoe shifts on my back, pressing her tiny body against me.

The sensation grounds me more than anything else.

I’m doing this. I’m not alone. Not anymore.

As I roll the first meatball, I hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Gage’s heavy, steady steps make my pulse quicken, but I don’t look up. I focus on the meatballs in my hands, rolling them out one by one and placing them carefully on the cutting board.

Then I hear it. The rustle of fabric, and I know—he’s changed into something more comfortable.

I don’t look up, not yet, but I feel him standing in the doorway, watching me.

There’s something about the silence between us that feels different now.

He’s not the man I knew months ago. Hell, he’s not the man I thought I’d ever end up with. But now, here he is.

I glance up, and my mouth dries at the sight of him.

Gage is standing there in nothing but black basketball shorts, his tattoos on full display.

He’s stretching his muscular arms above his head, running a hand through his hair, and my eyes trace the lines of ink snaking down his torso, the intricate designs telling a story I still don’t fully understand, all the way down his thighs.

The sun from the window catches on his tattoos, making them look even more alive, like they’re a part of him that’s constantly moving, constantly shifting.

It’s like everything shifts into focus. It hits me like a ton of bricks—the simple truth of it.

That’s my husband.

My breath catches in my throat, and I hold still for a moment, not sure if I should say anything. I want to savor this feeling, to feel it wash over me and know, really know, that everything is different now. That this man—this gorgeous, broken, beautiful man—is my partner.

My family.

He leans against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, but I can still see the muscles in his shoulders and the way his chest rises and falls with each breath.

There’s something so raw about him, like he’s constantly fighting with himself, like he’s battling some war inside that I’ll never truly understand.

But then, when he looks at me, it’s like he’s finally letting me in, letting me see him for who he is.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice soft, tentative but with a hint of seduction in his eyes.

He knows what he’s doing.

I blink, realizing I’ve been standing there, staring at him for too long. I shake my head and give him a small smile. “Yeah. Just... you look good.” The words slip out before I can stop them, but I don’t feel embarrassed.

I mean it. He looks amazing.

Fucking delicious. I want to taste every inch of his skin.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth pulling up in that way that always makes my stomach flutter. “Thanks, Hermosa . Not as good as you look. If Zoe weren’t on your back right now, I’d be bending you over the kitchen table and taking that pretty pussy of yours to pound town.”

Oh my God.

Food, focus on the food, Ale.

I bite my lip, feeling a warmth spread through me as I stutter through my words. “D-dinner w-will be ready soon. I’m making albondigas.”

Gage tilts his head, eyeing the meatballs I’m rolling out. “Smells good.” He takes a step closer, his presence filling the space. “Can I help with anything?”

I hesitate for a moment, but the offer is genuine, and I find myself nodding. “Sure. You can help me with the sauce. I need to get it simmering, and I’m kind of running behind.”

He moves to the stove, and I watch him for a moment longer. There’s something so domestic about this moment, so normal. I never imagined it would feel like this, like we were a real family, not just two people fumbling their way through a life together. But it does. It feels real.

Gage gets to work, his hands moving with a precision I didn’t expect.

He’s good at this—good at being in the kitchen, good at putting his mind to something and following through.

I watch him pour the tomato sauce into a pot, stirring it slowly before adding everything else I have prepped.

He glances over at me, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to read something I’m not saying. “You’ve been quiet since we left the courthouse.”

I press my lips together, not sure how to explain the flood of emotions that’s crashing through me. “I’m just... taking it all in,” I say softly. “This is all a lot, you know? Getting married today, Zoe, my family. It’s like I’m still trying to wake up from a dream.”

He nods, his face softening. “I get it. It’s a lot for me too. But we’re in this together, right?”

“Right,” I whisper, and I can feel the pressure of those words settle in. We’re in this together.

I turn my attention back to the meatballs, shaping them gently as I let the quiet moment stretch between us. There’s something calming about being here with him, cooking in the kitchen, taking care of the simple things. This is real life. And somehow, it’s more than I ever thought it would be.

Gage looks over at me again, his eyes soft, a little bit vulnerable. “I’ll be here, Ale,” he says, and his words settle in the space between us like a promise. “I’m not going anywhere yet. My unit isn’t being deployed right now and I know that’s at least part of what’s got you all in your head.”

He can read me better than I thought. “It’s part of it.

I’m just not ready to let you go yet.” Moving to the sink to wash my hands, I turn around and wrap my arms around his middle, splaying my hands over his stomach and pressing a kiss to his back.

“I just want to have as much time with my husband as I can before I have to be without him.”

Dinner is quiet, but it’s a peaceful quiet, the kind that fills you up without needing to be filled with words.

We sit across from each other at the table, Zoe nestled between us in her little bouncing chair, her tiny hands reaching for the food, her baby babble filling the space with its own melody.

I glance at Gage every now and then, watching him carefully, like I’m still getting used to this.

Getting used to him being here—here with us.

He’s eating, but his eyes keep darting to me, to Zoe.

There’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes my chest tighten.

I never expected him to be this way, especially not with me.

And seeing him with her—watching him stop, his fingers brushing her cheek—makes something inside of me melt.

He’s not perfect, but for his little girl, he’s everything.

I glance down at my bowl, stirring my Albondigas absently, feeling the warmth of the food settle in my stomach. There’s something comforting about eating together, even if it’s simple. This feels like home, and that realization makes my eyes sting. I’ve never had a home like this. Not like this.

“How’s the food?” I ask, finally breaking the silence, needing to know if it’s as good as I think it is.

“It’s amazing,” Gage says, his voice low and sincere. He leans forward, elbows on the table, as he watches me with those intense green eyes of his. “Seriously. You’re a fucking goddess in the kitchen.”

I laugh, a light sound that feels so natural between us. “You’re full of shit,” I tease, but it makes my heart flutter. I like this. I like us .

Zoe makes a small sound, and I turn my attention to her, noticing she’s rubbing her eyes.

“Are you sleepy, Princesa ?” I ask gently, my voice softening as I reach out to her.

She gives a little whine, then snuggles into her chair, clearly ready for bed.

I smile, brushing her hair to the side, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

“I think someone’s ready to go to sleep,” I murmur, leaning down to kiss her head.

Gage glances over at me, his lips curling into a grin. “Let me clean up here. You get her settled, okay? I’ll meet you in the bedroom when I’m done.”