The Hustle (Irreparable #4) (36 page)

It was hard enough holding back tears when my wife and son danced together for the first time as mother and son, but when Tori and Liv stand to give a shared toast, I know I’ll be reduced to a blubbering mess.

Tori starts. “Tug, I mean Aidan. On behalf of your family, we want you to know how proud we are of you. We always knew you’d find someone willing to put up with your crap.”

The crowd erupts into hysterics and I release the breath I’d been holding. Maybe I can escape without crying like a baby.

Liv continues, “But Peyton is so much more than your wife. We’ve also fallen in love with her. You gave us another sister and we just want you both to know how much we love you.”

Ah . . . fuck, here come the waterworks. Thankfully Tori rescues me when she adds, “And by the way, if you screw it up, we get to keep her.”

Laughter resumes and I’m able to smile, knowing I won’t
screw it up.

I finally reached a place where I understand that everyone feels broken at some point in their life. All the cracks and fine lines that remain molded me into a man capable of loving Peyton. Without my flaws there would be no reminder of the man that doesn’t deserve her, and I need him to remember why I do.

One Year Later . . .

D
eeply satisfied eyes stare up at me as I descend from the sky. No longer able to control my shaking arms, I deflate next to Peyton. Married sex never gets old. It only gets better, and I can’t wait to experience what baby-making sex feels like. For some reason now feels like the right time to broach the subject.

“Peyton.”

“Hmmm . . .”

“When should we make Javier a brother?” She rolls to her side to face me. My spirit deflates at her expression as I consider we’ve never talked about having children. It doesn’t look as though Peyton’s too eager to get started. “You don’t want any more kids?”

“No . . . I mean . . . yes.”

“But?”

She sighs. “Javier’s nine.”

“You do realize he has no role in the baby-making process, right?”

“Yes . . . boob, I do.” I laugh. I’m always referred to as a boob when I use humor inappropriately, which basically amounts to me being called boob frequently. “But he does have a role in our family. It could take me awhile to get pregnant and then nine months before a baby comes. He could be ten or eleven . . . twelve even.”

Clearly I am a boob because I have no idea what the age difference has to do with anything. “Is there a time limit on becoming a brother?”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t call me boob, so I’m not totally off base. “No, but I worry about the age difference. What do you remember most about your siblings growing up?”

“Playing games, going to school together, especially Liv. And Brady taking us to senior parties when we were underclassmen. We were friends as much as we were siblings.”

“Exactly. If let’s say, Javier is twelve when we have a baby, then they won’t exactly be hanging out together.”

I’m sure she has a point and she’s dropping these little nuggets in hopes I’ll figure it out, but I still feel clueless. “So?”

“So, they’ll both still feel like only children and I don’t want Javier to think he has to take care of his little sister or brother when he’s approaching his formative years.”

“Formative years? Have you been talking to your mom?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

If she’s spoken with her mother, then she’s considered having more children, which is a start. However I’m still confused. “Okay, so we have two children, say a year apart and we hire a nanny so Javier doesn’t feel like a caregiver. Now can we get down to baby making?”

She rolls her eyes again, and I know I’m behaving impossibly, but I just don’t see the issue as clearly as she does. “You know if you want to have sex, there are less complicated avenues which generally allow the experience to be more enjoyable.”

“No way. I hear couples trying to conceive fuck like rabbits.”

I nibble on her ear, causing her to giggle but she still pushes me away “Boob . . . Maybe, but quantity isn’t quality. A friend back home told me baby-making sex usually revolves around an ovulation schedule and loses all its fun because it’s all about fertilizing an egg and not satisfying her.”

“Oh, is that what you’re worried about, Mrs. Hunter? I promise to make you come each and every time we attempt to fertilize an egg.”

She just laughs as I lower my head and kiss the spot behind her ear that makes her squirm.

“I have a better idea. You make me come each and every time we have sex. And we go another route to make Javier a brother.”

She has my full attention as I lift my head. “I’m listening.”

The loud sigh she exhales worries me. Whatever her alternative route is, she’s nervous about sharing.

“Okay so I’ve done a little research into adoption. I know it’s not biological children, but we could adopt children close in age to Javier and in the process give two kids a home that need one and love like our own, like we love Javier.”

While Peyton still contracts interior design jobs, she spends most of her time volunteering with Liv at The Center. She’s shared with me how she never expected to share a bond with any of the children. Only as the months passed, she grew increasingly fond of Camilia and Paco. She talks about them all the time and I have a feeling her looking into adoption has something to do with them, which if possible makes me love her even more. Knowing she may end up extremely disappointed guts me, but she has to know what adopting in Mexico entails.

“I love you and I love that you love Paco and Camilia as much as I do. But, there’s a ton of red tape involved, Peyton. Believe me, I’ve looked into it myself.”

Blush sweeps over her cheeks as she nibbles on her bottom lip.

“I might have already had Rodrigo file the necessary forms and as long as we’re willing to move to Mexico, and take temporary custody, he doesn’t see any reason the government will deny the application. Although it will take time, but no more than conceiving a child of our own.”

“You’re really serious about this?”

“They’re a pair and they deserve a real home and Javier knows them already. It’s fate . . . or something. I don’t know. Most women feel some physical need to conceive a child, and I do too, but my desire to have Paco and Camilia join our family is so much stronger. And Rodrigo says that because we’re US citizens that once the process clears in Mexico, we can file US citizenship for them and move back to the states. If that’s what we want.”

Here I thought asking about adding to our family was out of the blue. Clearly she’s been thinking about it a lot longer than I have. While it takes me a bit of time to process what she’s thrown at me, I know I want what she wants. I’ve wanted to adopt those two kids from the moment I met them, but it never felt quite right. I was never ready. Either I didn’t have a family to give them or my life was too chaotic to be there how they would need me. But now I have a family that could provide them with the life they deserve.

I can’t help but wonder if Rodrigo knew all along I wasn’t in a place to provide what Paco and Camilia needed and he over dramatized the process to deter me. If so, I owe him many thanks for putting their needs before mine.

“Are you opposed to having bio babies also?”

“No,” she says, quietly. “I didn’t actually know what you’d think of that since three kids is already a lot.”

“I want a house full of children with you.”

“Me too.” Her hand pushes into my chest when I go to hug her. “One more thing. There’s a house just up the beach from Tori that I might of, kind of put an offer on. Can we go look at it?”

She’s taken care of all the details and as I stare at her full bottom lip, I want her to take care of my raging hard on. “Yes, but first, I want to have baby making sex.”

“Boob!”

She squeals as I tickle her mercilessly.

O
ne month later we moved to Mexico, and two weeks after that, Paco and Camilia joined our family. The day they came home with us was emotional, but the day Aubrey Olivia was born overwhelmed me. Looking into your wife’s eye’s when she holds your baby for the first time changes a man. The bond with Paco and Camilia developed over time. I worked for it. While the bond with all of my children is unbreakable, with Aubrey, it was instant.

I look at her and see a part of me. Not just in her thick brown hair, or her crocked smile, but in her trust and immediate devotion. She’s the best parts of me in an innocent package, sent to remind me my past was long ago. My mistakes are forgiven. I won’t forget my poor choices and chance making them again, but I’ve let go of the weight. And with every beautiful laugh from my daughter, I know with certainty, I finally took a risk that paid off.

Family is the greatest reward bestowed upon a man, and I only have to look into Aubrey’s twinkling brown eyes to remember I deserve mine.

There are days I sit on the beach with my wife by my side, and Aubrey in my arms, and can’t believe the unconditional love my life is filled with. I used to believe when things were broken they could never be fixed. They can, with time and family and love, nothing is irreparable.

Healing takes faith. Once I accepted I wasn’t irredeemable, even my tattered heart could be mended.

You know Brady and Tug’s story, but will Liv ever find love? Find out in
My Way.

My Way on Goodreads

Ever wonder what Tug was thinking and feeling during Irreparably Broken and Irreversible Damage? Find out soon . . .