Page 126 of Hold Me Down
“Mama!” Emma reaches out and grips my dress, muttering ‘mama’ over and over in baby babbles. My smile grows twice as wide, but Damien’s falls as I take her from his arms. He even pouts.
“I want Mama love, too.”
I laugh so hard that I tear up.
“You always have my love, baby.” I reach up and kiss his cheek, then Emma goes back to using his jaw as a chew toy. He wraps his arms around us both and pulls us close until we melt into him.
We really should get going, but it’s impossible to pull away from moments like this. Emma rests her head on my chest and looks up at me and Damien with eyes that are just like his. They’re so bright, like nothing in this world could ever dim them—especially when she looks up at him directly. They’re two peas in a pod, the best of friends, but most importantly, she feels just as safe with him as I do.
She adores him. Daddy always makes everything better. When she wakes up at night, he’s always been the one to get up and hold her. Even when I was still breastfeeding her, he was right there. Every moment she reached out for him or cried because he stepped away, he went right back to her. Well, we both have. Neither of us have been subtle or reserved when it comes to our daughter. If she wants to be held, in our eyes, it’s because she needs it. Hell, we need it as much as she does. Our perfect little girl is thriving, taking all of our love for her and using that to grow. She’s never had to question if we would be there when she needs us, and there’s no doubt that he’s already her hero.
He’s been right by our side, just like he promised. Every appointment, every milestone, and every sleepless night, he was right there. When she had to get her first set of shots, I’m not sure who cried more, him or her. When she took her first steps a couple of weeks ago, who did she walk to? Her daddy. Despite their unwavering bond, he’s still insanely jealous that she crawled to me first, and I’ll hold onto that win for eternity.
I love Damien, wholly and completely, and I knew that before we had Emma, but seeing him as a father breeds an entirely different love—one that pairs perfectly with what we already felt for each other. When we wake up in the mornings, he still looks at me like it’s the first time all over again, like he’s just completely in awe. His touch is just as tender as ever, and his eyes only burn brighter with his devotion to me. I know he sees the same when he looks at me. There’s no way he doesn’t.
The love I have for our family is indescribable, a tale too long to be spoken in a lifetime. When he said our story would last forever, I knew it would. A love like ours isn’t contained in something as fragile as time. He’ll hold me down on earth until eternity calls for us both, and then we’ll step into heaven together, graced to be connected indefinitely as we watch our own children with pride.
His hold on us tightens, not enough to squeeze too harshly, but enough to pull the three of us into him as tightly as he can manage. Our little boy kicks and squirms, feeling our family at all angles, and everything just feels so complete. There’s no empty space anymore—there hasn’t been since I met Damien, but somehow, my world just keeps growing bigger. Soon enough, we’ll have a whole clan of Hartleys, and they’ll absorb me whole. It’s the most beautiful feeling I’ve ever felt.
“I guess we can go now,” Damien whispers. I open my eyes, not even realizing I had closed them, and look down to see Emma asleep between us. Her cute little mouth hangs open, and her cheek is squished against my chest, as if she couldn’t be more comfortable if she had tried. I kiss her tiny head, unable to help myself, and look back up to the man that completes me. He gave me everything I could’ve ever wanted and needed, even the things I didn’t know were necessary to beingme. He allowed me the chance to find myself, and he loves every piece of me—just as I love every bit of him.
My husband.
My heart.
My stalker.
“Yeah, I guess we can,” I reply softly and whistle for Daisy, smiling as she trots up beside us. Damien takes Emma from my arms and cradles her with one limb before wrapping the other around my waist. I lean into him as he leads us to the car, knowing I’ll never truly be able to pull away. And best of all?
I’ll never have to.
Epilogue 2 - Damien
Seventeen Years Later
‘Love Like Ours’ – Aron Wright
The house is chaos. Our entire family is here, dressed in pajamas and ready for the annual Hartley sleepover. We started having it here at the house a few years ago, and I think Mom and Dad are grateful that I offered. They’re getting a little too old to host parties like this, so of course I was more than happy to take on the task.
So many pictures cover our walls that I almost forget what color the paint is sometimes. Most of them are of our family—Ashia, our six kids, and I—but it includes the whole Hartley bunch. We bought Emma an old Polaroid camera for her fifteenth birthday, and she’s certainly made a habit out of it. A part of me still can’t believe that I ever kept the house so bare. Every time I turn around, I’m reminded of our amazing life.
If I look left to right, I can see how my kids have grown. Dozens of baby pictures stack on top of one another, and then the years go by with every inch I track. My princess turned eighteen three months ago, and it’s torn me to pieces. I’m so proud of all of my kids, beyond grateful for the genuine, exceptional people they’re becoming, and it’s all thanks to my wife.
I don’t know how she does it. Between taking kids to school, keeping the house clean, running a daycare, keeping a steady involvement at Devil’s Hands, and still being as perfect as she is? It blows my mind. I help where I can, and I don’t miss a fucking thing. Anytime Emma wants to shoot scenery with her camera, I take her. When all of the boys have football games, I go to every single one. Our youngest does gymnastics, and I sure as hell do not miss any of that. Ashia and I switch off between taking which kids to school what day, the two oldest drive, and our youngest goes to daycare with Ashia until she starts kindergarten in the fall.
Oh, my God. My baby is starting kindergarten…
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
We’re still the perfect team, even after all of these years. I’m still just as obsessed with her as I’ve always been. If anything, my obsession has just gotten even deeper. Beautiful, striking, grey strands grace her perfect hair in little hidden places, and I’ll never dare tell her, but I think she’s gotten shorter. Just a little, not enough that she would ever notice, but I have. I notice everything about her. She’s still just as stunning as the day I saw her, and every day just adds to that elegance.
I stand in the corner of our kitchen, drying the plates she just washed after dinner and staring at her angelic form. The smile that dances on her lips has pulled me in. It’s the softest, absentminded little curl, like it’s permanently stuck there. She’s dancing lightly to the music playing over the speaker system,and every time she hands me a new dish, she eyes me like she’s stealing a glance of her own.
Her eyes rake down my jaw, then my neck, and I know she’s thinking about what’s hiding beneath my shirt. As our family has continued to grow, I’ve added to the tattoo I got for my Goddess. The branches of our children’s names and birthdays travel across my shoulder, up my neck, and along my chest, racing along my veins just as they do within my heart. My woman loves the ink, and when she traces the lines at night, it still sends shivers through my body.
As if she knows what I’m thinking, her cheeks flush red and she looks back to the sink, trying not to get caught by the dozens of people in our house. I don’t give a single fuck. I ogle my wife every chance I get, and our childrenknowhow much I love their mother. That’s never been a secret.
“Daddy!” Paisley, our youngest daughter, shouts from across the room and runs in our direction. I set the plate down onto the counter and catch her just as she jumps up for me to hold her. She wraps her little four-year-old arms around my neck and squeezes me as tightly as I hold her. Her long dark hair, just like her mother’s, grazes my face, and I have to shake it away to see her properly.
