Redeeming (Red Lips & White Lies Book 2)

One day, you’re cool as shit.

The next, you’re sitting in the back of an oversized SUV, holding on to an infant car seat, yelling at your baby daddy that he’s driving too fast.

Not sure when 25 miles per hour became too fast, but today, it is.

—Caitlin’s Secret Thoughts

We park in the driveway, and Callen turns around to face the back seat, frazzled, like he’s just driven the scariest racetrack anyone has ever ridden on. “Is she okay?”

God, we’re pathetic.

I look at our baby girl sucking happily on her little turquoise binky that’s half the size of her face. “Yeah. She’s asleep.”

He unbuckles her car seat and lifts it from its base. “Ready to be home, kitten?”

Emotions clog my throat like they won’t stop doing lately.

Stupid hormones.

Home . . . I’m home.

All the fighting.

All the uncertainty.

All the fighting and all the making up with all the people, and I’m actually home.

I run my fingers along Callen’s face. “You are my home, Callen. So yeah. I’m ready.”

The front door opens, and Maddox and Bellamy step outside. “Wait. We need a picture. Hold still and smile.”

Apparently, everyone has keys to our home.

Luckily for us, it’s just these two, and honestly, it’s nice to have them here as we get settled. My fridge has been stocked with enough food to feed Callen and me for a week. Anastasia’s room has been filled with diapers and wipes and diaper cream. Her clothes have been washed, and basically, anything I could have possibly done between now and her actual due date to prep us has been done for me. I could cry, I’m so grateful.

Not that that’s saying much, considering everything has made me cry for weeks.

Bellamy sits down on the couch next to me as Callen and Maddox move into the kitchen to warm up some food. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Still sore from the C-section, but everything else feels fine. Everything except my boobs. Sweet Jesus, they hurt. It must be time for her to eat.”

Bellamy eyes me curiously. “How fucking big are they? My God . . .” She pokes the side of one, and I wince and smack her hand.

“Ouch,” I bitch.

“Dude, B,” Maddox groans as he walks back into the room with an eggplant parm sandwich on a plate and a Diet Coke in his hand. He puts them both on the table in front of me, and I could weep with joy. “I can totally get behind you and a little girl-on-girl action, Bellamy. But it can’t be with my sister.”

“Dream on, Madman. You’re not getting behind any of my action.” She looks down at my sandwich and licks her lips. “But I’m gonna get behind one of those sandwiches. You need anything while I’m up, Cait?”

“No thanks.” I grab the muslin blanket next to me and throw it carefully over Anastasia before pulling down my nursing tank and bringing her to the boob Bellamy poked. She roots around for a minute, and I hiss as she attaches, then relax as the tiny little mouth sucks.

When I look up, Maddox looks horrified.

“Oh stop.” I laugh at him. “You can’t see anything.”

“Sorry. Just getting used to mom you. It’s going to take a minute.” He looks away, like I’m flashing him, when in reality, he can’t see anything but a pale tan and white blanket. “It looks good on you, Caitlin.”

“The blanket?” I ask and sink deeper into the couch.

“Happiness.” My big brother leans forward and steals the small bag of chips that were sitting next to my sandwich. “This is who you’re supposed to be. You did good, kid.”

“Is that your way of saying you were wrong?” I tease and adjust Anastasia the tiniest bit so she slows down.

Maddox looks away again, like he can see through the blanket.

He can’t.

Men are babies.

“I was wrong. I didn’t see it. I got too lost in what I knew to pay attention to what you and Callen needed, and it was obviously each other.”

He might have taken a little longer to come around, but now that he’s here, I’m grateful to have Maddox on our side. It was always going to be Callen and me.

It had been obvious to me since I was a little girl.

One who finally got everything she ever wanted.

I roll over at two a.m., when my aching boobs tell me I either need to nurse or pump, but Anastasia isn’t in the bassinet next to our bed, and Callen isn’t in the room. Huh . . .

Getting out of bed isn’t the easiest thing yet, a nasty c-section will do that to you, but I get it done, then go on the hunt for my loves. It’s a quick hunt. The door is open to the nursery, and Callen is sitting in the pink velvet chair with his feet propped up on the ottoman and his eyes closed while Anastasia sleeps on his bare chest in nothing but her tiny diaper. My breath gets caught in my chest as I stare at the perfection of this moment.

One I wasn’t sure I’d ever get.

“Like what you see, kitten?” he asks without opening his eyes.

“I love it, Sinclair,” I say softly as I move in front of him. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Caitie. So fucking much.”

“I know,” I tell him, suddenly unwilling to wait for the rest of our lives. “Marry me, Callen.”

“Did you hit your head, kitten? I already proposed, and you said yes. Check out your finger. The ring is pretty nice.” His smile is gorgeous. It’s everything.

“I mean now. This weekend. I don’t want to wait. I want to be your wife. I want to be a Sinclair like the two of you. I want the world to know I’m yours.”

He cracks his eye open, and I get goosebumps.

“You want to marry me, huh?”

“Don’t be an ass, Callen,” I tease because this is us. This is the best of us. The quiet moments. The teasing. The pushing and pulling. The fire. It’s all the reasons I love him and so much more.

“Pretty sure if you asked your mom to handle it, she’d have everything set up for you by the end of the week.”

“You know marrying me is marrying my family, right?” I warn him, knowing he’ll never walk away from us.

“Mine isn’t much better, kitten. I’m not going anywhere. Never again . . .”

“Promise?” I ask because I’ll never get tired of his next words.

“I promise, Caitie.”