Page 11 of Forbidden Bliss
When we part, I rest my head again, listening to the melody of his heart. “She’s going to be so happy. Our little girl. Having her family whole again, the way it should have always been.”
“She deserves nothing less.” Tristan’s hand finds mine, our fingers lacing together. “I’m never letting go of either of you again.”
I close my eyes, drifting off to the sound of Tristan’s heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace. Our souls and bodies reunite, the way they were always meant to be.
Chapter 5
Tristan
Istandinfrontof the mirror of the rental unit, staring at my reflection as I calm my racing heart. The reflection shows a man who looks composed, but inside, I’m anything but. Today is the day I meet Lana officially. The idea sends anxiety through me. If only I could relax and let things come naturally.
Last night keeps replaying in my mind—the way me and Willow made love, the intensity of our emotions, and the passion that feels like it never left. Yesterday’s memories are a lifeline, filling me with determination. I must fix things. For Willow, our daughter, and for the family we never had the chance to be.
I draw in a deep breath and step into the shower to let the hot water cascade over me. Washing away the remnants of sleep, I scrub my skin, easing the tension in my muscles, and cleansing away the lingering doubts.
After the shower, I dry off quickly and pull on my clothes—jeans and a casual shirt. The clock glares at me. It’s the afternoon already, and every tick of the second hand seems to resonate louder than usual. I comb my hair, trying to tame it into some semblance of order, but my hands are trembling.
Closing my eyes, I imagine how today might unfold. Meeting Lana and seeing her face light up when she realizes who I am. The vision makes my anxious heart thunder in my eardrum.
I catch my reflection again and force myself to pull in a few deep breaths. “You can do this.”
The 3-minute drive to Willow’s house feels like forever. Each turn of the steering wheel fills me with anticipation, the gravel crunching under the tires of my Lambo like a countdown.
After walking up the steps to the front door, my pulse kicks up a notch as I ring the doorbell with a shaky hand.
Finally, the door opens, and there she is—Willow, standing before me with the same mesmerizing eyes that have always held me captive.
She steps aside to let me in. “Hey. Perfect timing. Hunter’s not here. He’s still pissed about everything that happened back then.”
I walk inside, immediately enveloped by the warmth of the home and the faint scent of pine. “Well, good thing I didn’t come to see Hunter.”
With clean lines and a minimalist design, the interior of the house is sleek and modern. The furniture is of high quality, with plush white leather sofas and a shiny glass coffee table. The walls are crisp white, adorned with landscape art pieces and large windows that offer a breathtaking view of the surrounding forest.
Oddly, the home resembles an upscale mansion of a tech billionaire rather than a cozy log house.
My eyes fall on Lana. Sitting on the hardwood floor in the main room, her small hands hold on to several colored pencils. Her dark hair is styled into two neat pigtails, each adorned with pink bows that match her pink dress.
She looks up, her eyes wide. “You’re the man from the gas station.”
A flood of guilt washes over me for the lost years, hitting me like a wave. I think of all the birthdays I missed—the first crawl and the bedtime stories I never got to tell. Each lost minute is like an iron plate pressing down on my torso. But a profound, overwhelming joy I can barely contain overshadows that guilt. She’s my daughter.
A lump forms in my throat, and my vocal cords catch as I speak, the words barely able to make it past the raw emotion tightening my upper body. “Yes. I am.”
Willow and I exchange a glance, and it’s like a silent conversation passing between us. She gives me a slight nod.
Taking a deep breath, I walk over to Lana, each step cautious. As I get closer, I notice the colorful drawings scattered around her, evidence of her budding creativity.
Kneeling down beside her, I gently pick up a drawing—a vibrant scene of mountains and a bright blue sky. “These are amazing, Lana. You’ve got quite the talent.”
She beams and lights up with pure joy. “Mommy says I get it from her.”
Willow observes us with a soft smile.
“She’s right.” I return my attention to Lana. “But I think you’ve got something special all your own.”
Willow grins and nods. “She does. She’s a budding artist.”
I point out the mountain peaks and riverbeds on Lana’s creation. “Yes, I see that. You have a great sense of color and detail.”