Til Debt Do Us Part (Married At Midnight #4)

Chapter 42

Forty-Two

Dare

Three Months Later

I watch as four burly movers lug a massive oak desk up the grand staircase. "Careful with that!" I call. "It's antique and not replicable!"

The movers grunt in response, focused on their task. I sigh, realizing that unless I want to help carry the heavy piece of furniture myself, I have little or no control over how the movers choose to carry it.

Behind me, childish giggles and pounding footsteps echo through the cavernous foyer. We are several days into the moving process here at the estate. And I'm having trouble repressing my disapproving, uptight inner critic.

Needless to say, it's been quite an adjustment for everyone.

My wife Talia appears at my side, resting a hand on my forearm. Our baby Hope is sleeping blissfully while she rests in a baby sling, tucked up against Talia's breasts. Talia is in overalls and a long sleeved t-shirt and looks absolutely radiant.

"You're doing so well," she coaches me gently. I soften under her touch, reminded of why we endure this chaos.

Our ever growing family.

I kiss her briefly. She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows.

"Will you carry this box into the kitchen? It's filled with the new baby bottles and bottle warming equipment."

"Of course," I reply, hoisting the box with ease. "I live to serve, Mrs. Morgan."

I lift the heavy box marked ‘Kitchen’ and carry it toward the east wing, Talia trailing behind me. As we walk, she talks about the new paint colors and turning one of the formal living rooms into an area for all the children to have quiet time. My lips twitch.

Since we made it past the first month with the new baby, Talia seems to have bounced back from the severe sleep deprivation. Now, she is at her personal best, planning and executing her own ideas.

The move to the estate has been better for her and I can't say I regret a moment of it.

We reach the kitchen and set down the box. Talia smiles up at me, radiant as ever.

"Thank you." She smooths my rumpled t-shirt down over my pec. Her eyes shine with mischief. "This shirt looks incredible on you. You might have to wear it to bed tonight."

"Is this some kind of blue collar fantasy fulfillment for you? Do you secretly wish you had married someone else?" My words are teasing, but I want to hear her say that she chose correctly when she married me.

"Absolutely not." Talia grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me down to kiss her. "You know I'm crazy about you."

We kiss again, this time more gently, but more passionately. She truly believes our love can overcome anything, even my family's sordid past. I cup her face in my hands, wishing I shared her faith.

A crash echoes from downstairs, followed by childish arguments. Talia pulls away from me with a sigh, mindlessly bouncing to keep Hope asleep.

"Let's go see what that was," I say.

As Talia and I head back downstairs, the foyer is even more chaotic than before. Children dart between movers carrying heavy furniture while staff members shout instructions.

In the center of it all stands Magda, looking for all the world like a stern-faced general commanding her troops. Her usual blue uniform is missing and in its place is a bright pink tracksuit. She marshals the movers like soldiers, directing them where to place each item.

"That box is labeled ‘Main Bedroom'. It goes in the main bedroom, not the living room!" She snaps at one bewildered mover in her thick Eastern European accent. "And be careful with that cabinet, it is an antique!"

I'm impressed by how Magda takes charge. She's weathered countless Morgan family dramas over the years yet remains unflappable.

A loud crash makes me wince. Two young boys have knocked over a lamp while play-wrestling. Before I can react, Magda swoops in, scolding them in her native tongue. They freeze under her harsh gaze.

Satisfied they've been cowed, Magda turns and assigns tasks to the other staff. A new maid will unpack the kitchen, while two of the movers will arrange the furniture. They spring into action.

In the whirlwind, I've lost track of the children. But then I spot Clive, the family butler, gathering them together.

"Let's go discuss the rules for your new home," he says in his smooth voice. "Anyone who's good will get a treat..."

The rambunctious children surprisingly listen as he leads them away. Clive was like a father to me growing up; perhaps he can instill some discipline in this unruly bunch.

I let out a breath as some semblance of order takes shape from the chaos. If anyone can transform this circus into a functioning household, it's Magda and Clive.

I make my way through the controlled chaos, sidestepping movers hauling furniture and boxes. I spot Talia directing traffic in the foyer, one hand on Hope's sleeping form.

"Have you seen Solana and Remy?" I ask.

"I think they were in Remy's study the last time I saw them," Talia replies, flashing me a smile before returning her focus to the movers.

"And you left them there?" I ask.

"Remy was being sweet. Solana knows that she can shout for us if something happens that she doesn't like."

Narrow my eyes and shaking my head, I hurry up the grand staircase two steps at a time and walk down the long hallway lined with ancestral portraits. At the end is Remy's study, all leather and mahogany and old books.

I pause in the doorway. There sits my grandfather in his wingback chair, Solana curled up in his lap. Her dark hair spills over the armrest as Remy reads aloud from a book.

He doesn't seem to notice me, enraptured by the story. I observe the tender scene, struck by the vulnerability in my grandfather's expression.

When I was a kid, I was terrified of Remy. He cut an imposing figure then, though now he seems like a mellow, doddering old man. Where was this attitude when I was growing up?

I stand in the doorway and watch them. Solana looks utterly content and Remy more at peace than I've seen him in years. Solana interrupts his story to ask a question. I flinch, but he doesn't even blink. He just answers her question and moves on with his reading.

Genuinely perplexed, I let this moment stretch on a little longer, frozen in time, before the chaos intrudes once more.

I step into the room quietly, not wanting to disturb Solana's drowsy state. Remy's eyes flick up at my entrance and he gives me a nod in greeting but keeps reading in a hushed tone.

I sink down onto the sofa opposite them, watching my grandfather's weathered hand stroke Solana's hair. He's capable of physical intimacy with someone who has been a part of our family for mere months. Where Remy seemed unable to deal with Burn and I whenever we scraped a knee or told him about a school bully.

Talia was right all along. People apparently can change. Even the surliest old men can show a softer side if given enough room for improvement. I'm startled, but I try to hide it.

When he finishes the tale, Remy closes the book and looks up.

"How are you holding up, Remy?" I ask in a whisper.

"Tolerably well," he replies. "Though I can't figure out what these young kids are talking about. Solana told me a long story about robot dogs that are police officers. Something about paw scouts? Christ, what does that even mean?"

I smother a smile. "Yeah. She's been really into this cartoon lately."

He flaps his hand. "It's insane. She needs to go outside more."

"It's cold and rainy outside today. Or else the kids would be out there exploring with one of the nannies, I'm sure."

Remy hmphs . "Well, I guess Solana doesn't need to catch a cold. Right?"

He looks at Solana, who nods drowsily.

I purse my lips and engage Remy carefully. "Thank you for keeping her busy today. I know it's a lot, having all of us invading your home."

Remy's mouth turns down at the corners. "You didn't give me much of a choice, Dare. Still, it'll be good to have children running about again." His eyes crinkle with warmth. "This old place could use some fresh air circulating around inside it again."

My stern grandfather isn't normally one for sentimentality, so I'm absolutely stunned at his words. My mouth opens and closes a few times before I get a grip.

"I think moving here with the children from Hope House is going to be a huge change for all of us. But maybe... maybe it will give us a chance to reconnect," I tell him sincerely. "I want you to know..." I pause, hesitating before my next words. "I love you, Remy. And I think if you act like this, everyone else will, too."

Remy blinks rapidly and looks down at Solana. When he meets my gaze again, his eyes are bright.

"I love you, too, my boy." His voice is gruff with suppressed emotion. "I'm glad you're all here."

He strokes Solana's hair, and she burrows deeper into the recesses of his lap.

We share a smile, this simple admission meaning the world to me. In Solana, Remy has found unexpected joy.

The chaos envelops me as soon as I step out of the quiet respite of Remy's study. Children dart through the halls, weaving between movers hauling furniture.

"Watch it!" a burly man bellows as two young boys nearly crash into his legs.

The boys ignore him, laughing as they race each other down the corridor. I watch them fondly before turning to survey the controlled madness.

Boxes line the walls, contents spewing forth. The air is thick with dust motes swirling in the streams of sunlight. Snippets of conversation fill the space.

"No, no, that box says 'Kitchen'! So take it to the kitchen, for god's sake!" Magda's accented voice rings out.

"Has anyone seen my dinosaur?" a little girl wails.

"Right here!" shouts a boy.

Glass shatters, followed by a muffled curse.

I smile. This is insanity. But it's my life now.

Walking down the grand staircase, I head to find my wife, unable to keep the grin from my face.