Chapter 9 - The Coast of Maine
Six months later.
The waves crashed rhythmically against the dark granite cliffs of the Maine coastline, sending plumes of white sea spray into the cool morning air. Perched on the hill overlooking the water sat a warm, cedar-shingled cottage with a broad porch and smoke rising lazily from its stone chimney.
Inside, the kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering scent of fresh cinnamon rolls and dark roast coffee.
Clare was barefoot, wearing one of my oversized flannel shirts over her shorts, humming a quiet melody as she pulled a baking tray from the oven. She looked radiant—healthy, peaceful, her laugh echoing through the small house like music.
I stepped into the kitchen from the back porch, carrying an armful of chopped firewood.
"You're tracking salt onto my clean floor, Mr. Romano," she teased, setting the tray on the wooden island.
"I'll clean it up," I grinned, dropping the wood into the wicker basket by the fireplace. "I'm very good at following orders from the boss."
I walked up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her back into my chest. She rested her head against my shoulder, holding my hands where they rested over her stomach.
It was quiet. The terrifying phone calls, the armored transports, the screams of war—all of it had been replaced by the peaceful roaring of the ocean outside our window.
"I received a letter from Lorenzo yesterday," I mentioned, resting my chin on her head. "He says the new shipping foundation is thriving. They've funded three new children's hospitals in the city."
"Good," Clare smiled, turning her head to kiss my jaw. "It's good to know something beautiful came out of all that darkness."
She paused, taking a deep breath, her hands sliding over mine.
"Julian?"
"Yes, my love?"
"There's something else..." She turned around in my arms, looking up at me with an expression of nervous, overwhelming joy. Her cheeks were flushed with a soft, beautiful pink.
My brow furrowed in gentle concern. "What is it? Are you feeling unwell? Is your stomach hurting?"
"No," she laughed softly, taking my hand and placing it gently against her lower stomach. "I feel wonderful. I went to see Dr. Harrison in the city three days ago while you were meeting with the contractor."
I froze. My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at my hand resting against her abdomen, then looked back up into her glowing blue eyes.
"Clare..." I whispered, my voice trembling with sudden, breathtaking realization. "Are you..."
"We're having a baby, Julian," she whispered, tears of joy spilling over her eyelashes. "Due in November."
The powerful, ruthless man who had once ruled the criminal underworld fell to his knees right there on the wooden kitchen floor. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing my face against her stomach, crying tears of pure, unadulterated gratitude.
May you like
"A baby..." I sobbed, holding her tight. "Our baby..."
Clare knelt down with me, wrapping her arms around my neck, kissing my hair, my face, my lips as we wept together in the warm sunlight of our quiet home by the sea.
