Chapter 49
A week after the fire, I’m finally home.
Home.
The word hits differently now.
Not my penthouse in Ballsbridge.
Not the Beckett mansion where I grew up.
Cole’s house in Skerries. Or, our house, I should say.
Sunlight spills through the glass as the sea crashes below the cliffs, and for the first time in seven days, I finally feel like I can breathe again.
The private hospital discharged me two days ago, after they gave me enough oxygen to float a hot-air balloon. I had daily ultrasounds. A small army of nurses checked my vitals every hour, while one very unimpressed baby girl kicked every time the monitors beeped.
She’s fine.
Perfect, even.
I, on the other hand, still flinch every time someone closes a door too loudly.
Tate survived, thankfully. Smoke inhalation, concussion, bruised ribs—but alive. He’s taking four weeks off, but he’ll be back before our little princess is born. Security is still tight, but now Jack O’Connor is dead, we all sleep a little easier.
Nico and Felstead were lucky they were out of the building, thanks to my peanut butter cravings.
I finally let myself exhale.
I’m safe.
Our daughter is safe.
And the man who carried me out of hell hasn’t let go of me since.
Jack O’Connor’s sons were located in his underground lair in the woods. What the Gardaí discovered beneath the woodland clearing looked less like a makeshift hideout and more like a bunker built by a man who had spent years preparing to burn our world down—exactly as he threatened he would.
A shudder rips over my spine.
‘You okay, sweetheart?’ Cole’s voice is soft—too soft for a man who usually speaks in blunt demands.
I turn to face him. Concern lights his cool blue eyes. His full lips purse into a tight line. He’s still absolutely livid about Jack’s attempt on my life, on our baby girl’s life, even though he put a bullet in his head. I swear he wishes he could bring him back so he could kill him again—slowly.
I drink in his strong shoulders, perfectly sculpted by a casual polo shirt. The urge to touch them torments me. His lips lift into a small smile as he crosses the room and hands me a mug of tea. He doesn’t need to play barista. Magda, my housekeeper, and Helen, his housekeeper have agreed to job share. They practically argue over which one of them gets to fuss over me. So there’s really no need for my billionaire boyfriend to make me Barry’s Tea with a splash of milk.
‘Yes,’ I murmur, even though the truth is… I’m still not entirely sure what “okay” feels like anymore.
‘Come here,’ he whispers, turning me towards the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The evening sun is low, the sky smeared in soft golds and powdered pinks. The Irish Sea churns rhythmically beneath the cliff, waves rolling over one another in slow silver curls. A fishing boat hums along the horizon, the sound faint, comforting.
Skerries has never looked more beautiful.
We stand there silently, wrapped up in each other, letting that shifting, shimmering view rinse away the memories I’m trying my darndest not to replay.
‘You scared the shit out of me, Zara,’ he murmurs, lowering his forehead to my temple. ‘I thought I’d lost you. And the baby p>
‘I thought I’d lost you too,’ I whisper back.
He turns me fully then, hands cupping my face. His eyes blaze with something fierce and tender simultaneously. That familiar Cole Hartmann intensity—the kind that makes me feel like he would take on the whole world with just his bare hands if it meant protecting us.
His hands lift to sweep a strand of hair from my cheek. His thumb lingers at my jaw like he’s memorising every millimetre of my face. ‘Do you want to hear something really crazy?’ he asks softly.
‘Tell me p>
‘I knew something was up.’ He doesn’t need to explain when. I know exactly what he’s referring to. ‘I got this weird tightness in my chest. It happened to me before.’ He swallows hard. ‘When my father had a heart attack. I know it sounds weird, but I swear, it’s like an instinct or something p>
He drops an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him. ‘It’s not weird. It’s how you’ve got so far in life, listening to that gut instinct. It’s like a sixth sense. I sort of have one when it comes to you,’ I admit, brushing a kiss over his full warm lips.
‘In what way?’ His hands gravitate to my stomach, to our baby girl.
‘Like when we were in the Dominican, and I didn’t even know you, I felt your presence before I saw you. Whenever you were near, I just… knew.’ I reach up to wrap my hand around the base of his neck, holding the mug tightly with the other hand. ‘And sometimes, when I think of you, you text—like that second. How’s that for weird?’ I tease.
‘I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s proof that we were meant to be,’ he murmurs.
‘Did you ever get it with anyone else?’ I’m not jealous, I’m just curious.
‘Other than my father and you? No.’ He frowns then. ‘Well, there was this one time, a few months ago, I got that feeling. Though I never did find out what caused it p>
‘When? Do you remember the date?’ I tip my head back to meet his eye.
‘Yes, it was May third. I remember because it’s my brother’s birthday p>
A surprised laugh slips from my lips. ‘That’s the day I found out I was pregnant p>
He blows out a breath. ‘Unreal. What time did you find out p>
‘Around lunchtime. My appointment was at twelve forty-five, so maybe one o’clock p>
‘I got that feeling at like five a.m. It woke me p>
‘Which would have been one o’clock here…’ I remind him.
‘That’s unbelievable.’ He nuzzles into my neck. The scent of his familiar aftershave seeps into my senses. ‘We were connected even when we weren’t p>
I place my hand over his on my stomach. ‘We were connected, we just didn’t know it until then p>
He prises the mug from my hand, placing it on the shelving to the left of the window. When he turns again, his cool blue eyes burn with desire.
‘Oh no, California.’ I shake my head. ‘Do not dare give me those come-to-bed eyes when my entire family are on their way over at your invitation. And Livvie p>
Cole asked Helen and Magda to organise drinks and nibbles as a mini moving in party for me.
‘They’ve only just accepted you, but if they walk in on you balls deep in me, that feud between you boys will be worse than ever before p>
He groans.
‘Are you ready for the Becketts p>
A soft huff of a laugh leaves him. ‘As I’ll ever be p>
Right on cue, the security cameras ping on Cole’s phone. He glances at the screen.
‘They’re here p>
‘All of them p>
‘Six SUVs, and a partridge in a pear tree p>
‘Do I look okay?’ I smooth a hand over the white Seraphine shift dress floating over my body.
‘No, you don’t look okay.’ He dips his lips to catch mine. ‘You look fucking stunning p>
Heat ignites my blood, turning it to molten lava. ‘We’ll get back to those come-to-bed eyes later p>
Within minutes, the house is alive. Magda and Helen glide around like the domestic angels they are, circulating trays of delicate canapés—smoked salmon blinis, mini beef Wellingtons, truffle arancini—along with crystal flutes filled with champagne. Cole asked them to buy a barrel of Beckett’s Gold whiskey too, and not just to get on my family’s good side, turns out he loves the stuff, just like I told him he would.
My sisters-in-law charge in, cooing over the view, the décor and my outfit. My mother breezes in behind them, in a cloud of expensive perfume and air kisses.
‘My baby.’ She pats my stomach, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
‘This place is stunning, Zara.’ Scarlett sighs, sweeping her gaze over the oak beams, the neutral palette, the ocean light.
‘It’s perfect.’ Ivy grins, looping her arm through mine.
Rebekka’s taking photos of the kitchen island. ‘We need a girls’ night here. I’ll bring the mocktails p>
‘And I’ll bring Nico,’ Avery adds, eyes sparkling. ‘If Felstead lets him out of bed by then p>
Nico’s gaydar was bang on the money. The two of them bonded beside my hospital bed, and neither of them has come up for air in the past forty-eight hours.
I laugh. Properly laugh. The first real one since the fire.
My brothers stride in next, one by one. James is first, followed by Caelon, Killian, Rian, and Sean. Tension crackles in the air. They might not like Cole, but they have to respect him. To be damned grateful to him after he risked his life to run into a burning building to save me.
Cole crosses the room to greet them graciously. He extends a hand to James first. James stares at it for a long beat, then slowly places his palm in Cole’s.
I exhale the breath I was unwittingly holding. Relief courses through my blood. Killian’s lips are pressed firmly together in a grim line. His arms crossed, as if his face might crack if he says something kind. He flanks James and nods a reluctant greeting at my boyfriend.
‘You saved her,’ James acknowledges gruffly. ‘We can never repay you for that p>
Sean nods in agreement, accepting a glass of whiskey from Magda. I have her well warned to keep the liquid lubrication flowing to avoid the initial awkwardness.
Cole drops James’s hand then turns to Caelon, who grimaces like he’s in physical pain. ‘I still think you’re a dick, and I want to kill you for impregnating my kid sister.’ His lips quirk upwards. ‘But I appreciate what you did p>
Rian steps up next. ‘Thank you,’ he says simply, holding Cole’s gaze.
Killian is last to shake Cole’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ he says solemnly. Unlike his fiancée, he never was a man of many words.
My father crosses the room and hugs me so tight it’s a struggle to breathe. ‘Thank God you’re okay.’ He kisses the top of my head.
Magda and Helen hand out more drinks. My boyfriend raises his glass in a toast. ‘To new beginnings. To family.’ His eyes drift to my stomach before meeting my eyes again. ‘To Zara. I’d do anything for her. For both of them.’ He eyes each of my brothers in turn. ‘You know that p>
And they do.
They really do.
It’s not forgiveness. Not yet.
But it’s something.
A crack in the armour.
A beginning.
A bang sounds from the hallway. I jump. It’ll take me a while to get over everything. ‘Are we expecting someone else?’ I reach for Cole’s arm.
He beams down at me. ‘Yes. I invited the Hartmanns to even out the numbers p>
‘Even Doug the douche?’ I whisper.
‘Even Doug the douche.’ He pulls a face. ‘I couldn’t fly you to Vegas, but I could fly them here p>
The Hartmanns descend on us, and oh my goodness, Cole’s mother is almost as suffocating as my own, palming my stomach, talking to her grandchild. Luke, Cole’s brother, hovers by the door uncomfortably, clutching a Coke—the drink—not a line, for once.
No one’s shouting.
I take Cole’s hand and lift it to my lips, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. He looks at me like I hung the moon.
Our family fills the house.
Our daughter kicks lightly inside me, as if sensing peace.
And Cole stands solid at my side, the sea wind drifting in through the open terrace doors, carrying the promise of something new.
Something whole.
Something ours.
This is the beginning of the life we’re going to build together.