Her little mouth parted as she took in the black diamond necklace I’d shown Nila the day I officially asked her to marry me.
Nila caught my gaze, twirling her engagement ring, letting me know her thoughts were with mine. She didn’t need my condition to understand me—that came from unconditional love and a lifetime of listening to each other.
Helping Emma remove the chain from inside the box, I dangled the teardrop in front of her. “This is very special. Do you recognise the stone?”
“Yes.” Her black hair bounced.
I’d never met a brighter child. She could memorize and recite diamond cuts and their flaws and attributes. She’d learned a few words in Swahili last time we were in Africa and even given the kids at kindergarten clothing advice from watching Nila effortlessly pin and style simple calico into a glorious gown.
She was a perfect blend of both of us. A magical piece of Nila and me.
“Where did you see the stone?”
She pointed at Nila’s left hand. “Mummy’s ring and bracelet.”
“That’s right. And now you have one, too.”
“Because you love me as much as her?”
I laughed, gathering her in a hug. Kestrel moved in grabbing distance and I squeezed him in a group hug. “Because I love both of you as much as her. I love you all.”
Nila subtly wiped sudden dampness from her cheeks, busying herself with cutting the cake. Jaz rolled closer, helping stack paper plates and take those full with pink frosting to a few of the Black Diamond brothers and family.
Once the room had received their piece of confectionary, Jaz wheeled toward me and handed out the plates of cake on her lap to my children.
Pinching Emma’s nose, she said, “Now the present giving has ended, how about some cake? I want to eat your wish, little Velcro, so I can make sure it comes true.”
Kes slung his arm over his sister. With boyish fingers, he grabbed the icing and smeared a huge handful into his mouth. “About time.”
The room laughed.
And my world was perfect.
I was drunk.
Not on liquor or intoxicating substances but on happiness.
Pure, unadulterated happiness.
Such a cliché expression: I’m drunk on happiness. But for the first time in my life, I could positively say it was true.
“Hey, man, we’re gonna push off.” Vaughn clasped my shoulder, squeezing tight.
The last few hours had passed in good company and gentle conversation. The crowded parlour had dispersed after the cake had been devoured and Tex and Jacqueline had gone to their guest rooms while Nila and I retired to the newly decorated den with the children. Jaz and Vaughn had joined us, pulling out Twister and other silly games to tire Kes and Emma.
“You’re safe to drive? You guys can just crash here.” I smirked. “It’s not like we don’t have the room.”
Jaz smoothed the blanket over her legs, reclining beside Nila. “V has the clothing line reveal tomorrow. We want to get back tonight.” Her eyes landed on Vaughn. The intimacy and tenderness between them layered my happiness.
I never thought my sister would leave Hawksridge, let alone find love and support her chosen partner in the limelight, where her disability was questioned and discussed. But she had and she’d never looked better.
The fireplace crackled warmly, the burgundy drapes ensconced us away from the rest of the world, and the scattered bean-bags and toys on the floor painted Hawksridge in a completely different light than the one that’d existed for so long.
“Do you need any final adjustments?” Nila asked, running her fingertips casually through Emma’s hair.
My daughter’s energy level dwindled. She remained awake, playing Legos with Kestrel, but the long day finally sneaked closer to sending her into slumber.
Vaughn waved dismissively. “Nah, I’m fine. You’ve given me enough of your time making the men collection perfect.”
Nila glowed. “Anything for you.”
Vaughn beamed. “Ditto, sis.”
Over the past eight years, V and I became fast friends. He was prickly and opinionated, smug and sometimes arrogant, but he adored his twin and was besotted with my sister. He adored the ground Jasmine wheeled over and treated her with the utmost care and respect.
His friendship soothed the hole left behind by Kes, giving me the comradery to share a beer at a local pub or just discuss meaningless things, but he’d never be able to fill the emotional void left by my brother—nor did I want him to.
I enjoyed V’s company, but he didn’t control his thoughts around me like Kes could. I knew far more than I needed to about how much he loved Jasmine, how much he found the power in her forearms from wheeling herself around a turn on, and how much he longed to cradle her in his arms after a long day at the Weaver factory.
I shifted in my wingback, nursing the small amount of cognac I’d poured. “Well, I wish you the best of luck for the reveal.”
“Thanks.”
Taking a sip of amber fire, I asked, “You up for clay shooting next weekend?”
V rubbed his hands together. “Damn right, I am. Gonna kick your arse after the last beating you gave me.”
“Come up for the weekend.” Nila ran a hand through her long hair, loosely draping the strands over her shoulders. She’d slipped into a knitted jumper, and her hair weaved with the wool. I loved that the length was the same as the day I claimed her.
Jasmine smiled. “Sure. Sounds good. We’ll come up on Friday and spend a few days with you guys.”