Page 30 of Twins for the Enemy

Chapter twenty-one

~FARAH~

“I’m just saying the mattresses are unnecessary.” I look down at my palm, which is still a bit raw from rock climbing. “I haven’t been pregnant for almost seven months now.”

“I don’t want you to fall onto the hard floor, whether you’re pregnant or not.” His hand reaches over, his fingers sliding between mine. He’s so much larger than me that my hand almost disappears under his. Instead of feeling suffocating, it feels safe, like a promise of security.

Kieran glances toward the backseat. It’s out of habit, but the twins are with Ellie tonight.

I can still imagine them back there, secured in their car seats.

Olivia would be fast asleep while Neal’s eyes widened over every building.

When I’d look back at him, his eyes would light up as he smiled.

I’d stick my tongue out at him, and he’d laugh.

My chest aches with how much I love them both.

If I call Ellie in four minutes, at least ten minutes will have passed since the last time I called her, which is a little less psychotic than calling now.

I turn forward again. “I’m in a harness. I won’t fall on the floor.”

“You tripped on a flat parking lot yesterday,” he says. “Early in our relationship, you sprained your ankle. I love and trust your mind, but your luck and dexterity need to exist in a padded room. Or on several mattresses.”

“Oh, you think I don’t have dexterity?” I tease, reaching over and resting my hand on his thigh. It twitches closer to me. “You don’t think my hands are skilled? ”

“You can be as clumsy with me as you want,” he says, smiling at me.

And the way he looks at me—it’s like he’s giving me permission to be exactly who I am.

Like I don’t have to brace for the worst. Under his light, I feel like I could glow bright enough to turn this cold Chicago night into a beach day in LA.

I tuck my hair behind my ears. Most of it falls right back in front of my face.

I consider tying it up into a messy bun, but the gala we’re heading to is in honor of Kieran for his monumental donation to Astasio Botanical Garden.

The $9 million was a nod to the day of my birth, and the $11 million—because I was born in November—went to Intertwined Skies, a group that helps kids in abusive situations.

I considered talking him out of it, but telling someone not to donate to abused kids felt pretty awful.

At least it made me feel less spoiled than last year, when he gave me a Mercedes, built an addition onto our rural home so I’d have a home office after finishing my training to advocate for vulnerable children—and surprised me with a birthday trip to Mykonos .

I’d told him about feeling like it was too much, and this seemed to be his compromise.

I’d told him once that all the extravagant gifts made me feel overwhelmed—and this felt like his answer to that.

As he parks in front of the fountain, I’m hit by a rush of memory—of blood racing and something catching fire inside me that’s still burning now.

It’s wild to me that I still get that same feeling every time he touches me.

I don’t need to reach into the past for proof of what we are. I used to spend so much time wishing Neal could be someone he used to be. But with Kieran, I’m fully here. There’s no need to time-travel. What we have now is better than any memory.

As we get out of the car, we gravitate toward each other, our hands and shoulders brushing against one another before he takes my hand.

The dress I’m wearing was made to reflect the botanical garden—a white lace dress with yellow, periwinkle, and dark blue flowers that start small on the top half of the dress and get larger as they tumble down the skirt.

Stems curl and twist down the length of it and form the straps, which are faintly obscured by lace with a pattern that looks like baby’s breath.

When Kieran kisses my shoulder, it sends a warm shiver down me. I grip his hand tighter, and we head toward the conservatory.

The conservatory is massive. I hadn’t noticed it when we first came here because it was dark, but it’s impossible to ignore as we get closer.

It resembles an old Victorian house, but it’s much larger, and it’s almost entirely made of glass.

If it’s meant to be a greenhouse for plants, the plants inside it must be monstrous.

“Should I call Ellie now?” I ask. “It might be too loud to call her from inside.”

“Let’s give Ellie at least fifteen minutes,” he says. “We’ll do a video chat with her and the twins. We can step outside and show them the fountain. ”

“Oh, good idea.” I wrap my arm around his arm, resting my cheek on his bicep. His suit feels softer than silk, while his tie matches my dress—white silk with flowers drifting down to the end of it. “Do you think they miss us?”

“Everybody misses you when you leave,” he says, grabbing the door to the conservatory. I put my hand on his arm. The hairs on the back of my neck are raised.

“Are you sure the party is here?” I ask. “Why are all the lights so low? I don’t hear anybody.”

“They’re setting an atmosphere,” he says. “Don’t worry, Farah, if a gang of ecologists decides to attack us, I know how to make a Molotov cocktail.”

“Did they teach that in foster care?” I mutter.

“Yeah, Delgado showed me how to do it at the Rider residence.” He pushes the door open. I step inside with him, but I’m still clinging to his arm.

I stop. Nobody’s here. The faint glow of lights in the floor and the light from the moon filtering through the ceiling only reveal an abandoned information desk and a massive oak tree growing from the center of the conservatory.

It almost looks like shimmering cobwebs cling to the branches, but instead of forming a net, they’re dangling toward the floor.

I take a step closer, my fingers still wrapped around Kieran’s, and he lets me tug him forward.

They’re not cobwebs. They’re silver chains. They’re draped over the branches, like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Like someone needed a place to organize fifty or sixty necklaces. A charm hangs from each one of them.

I reach for one, my foot narrowly missing the beds of lilac flowers that encircle the tree.

The charm is an angelfish, but a ring hangs from it as well—a silver band with a diamond encircled by smaller diamonds.

Another chain hangs behind it. I run my fingers over it, pulling it closer.

The charm is a hot air balloon. The ring is adorned with diamonds around a gold band with a square diamond in the center.

“The angelfish is representing our time scuba diving in the Maldives,” Kieran says. “The hot air balloon is for our time in Chateau-d'Oex. There’s a charm for the Matterhorn on one of these as well.”

“What are the rings for?” I ask, turning around.

Kieran is on one knee. Even with his elbow resting on his leg, his hands are trembling.

“Not a gala for you?” I squeak out.

“No,” he says. “They did want to thank me, and I asked them for the building for the night. They thought it was a fair exchange.”

He takes my hands. It’s not just him trembling.

“Farah,” he says. “Even when I tried with every fiber of my being to hate you, I knew I’d ruin myself and everyone in this city just to put that smile on your face—the one where it reaches your cheeks and everyone in the room can see that you’re made of something more precious than the rest of us.

For a long time, I felt it would be selfish to try to tie down someone like that, but I don’t want to tie you down.

I’m not asking this question to take ownership of you or because I want you as my wife—because, God, I do—but because pretending that I don’t want to is the biggest lie.

I want you, and no matter what happens, I’ll always want you.

Every charm, every ring on that tree is a piece of us—moments I never want to forget.

But now, I want all of it. The fights. The fire. The forever. Will you marry me, Farah?”

The emotions crash down on me, threatening me with their immensity.

Colossal, out-of-control emotions have always been a threat to me—they lead to abuse, to addiction, to saying cruel things to loved ones, to following loved ones down the rabbit hole.

Numbing down has always been the safer, more sane option.

But with Kieran, I know I’m safe, and the only threat is not throwing myself into the wave. My cheeks feel wet. I don’t remember any tears falling.

“I’ll marry you,” I say. “Every day. Every lifetime.”

He lurches up to his feet, grabbing onto me like he might fall without my help, but as he embraces me, his strength is so forceful that I feel it in my bones. He kisses me deeply, his mouth grinding against mine until it softens so much that I kiss him back to feed into that aggression.

The world seems to click into place. It’s like it’s always been stilted, and this is the first time my feet have been on steady, solid ground.

When he sets me down, he’s beaming. I’ve never seen him so happy.

“Choose a ring,” he says, gesturing to the necklace chains. “If you don’t find one you love, we’ll get one made.”

I look over my shoulder. Even with all of the trips, the galas, and the staggering gifts, it’s all excess that fades in comparison to our times together when it’s just the two of us.

When I kiss him, it’s meant as a brief moment of gratitude, but when he starts to kiss me back, any intentions slip to the back of my mind like his hand slipping over my throat.

His hands move to the small buttons of my dress, unhooking them with surprising ease for how big they are. As soon as it’s unbuttoned, the dress pools at my feet, creating a halo of flowers around me.