Chapter 173 Normal Life

Chapter 173 Normal Life

Jason POV

Nearly a month of bureaucratic hell, and we'd finally pulled it off. Round Table was now a legitimate international security consulting firm.

We went back to Everdark City in comfortable silence.

"So," I said, pulling into my driveway, "ready to experience suburban domesticity?"

Amelia stepped out of the car. "Ready all the time."

She'd officially moved in two days ago, though most of her belongings consisted of tactical gear, encrypted drives, and enough weapons to outfit a small militia. Watching her hang up Kevlar vests next to evening gowns in my closet had been surreal.

"I was thinking," I said over breakfast the next morning, "maybe we could take some time off. See the world without having to worry about extraction points or diplomatic immunity."

Amelia looked up from her coffee. "You want to go on vacation?"

"Why not? We could do Europe, Asia, anywhere you want."

She set down her cup with a soft clink. "Jason, I've been to forty-three countries in the past five years. Most of them involved infiltrating secure facilities or eliminating high-value targets. The idea of voluntarily visiting tourist attractions sounds exhausting."

Fair point. "What about something closer to home, then?"

"Actually," she said, running her fingers through her rose gold hair, "I do have one mission I need to complete."

I leaned forward, instantly alert. "What kind of mission?"

She smiled. "Getting my hair dyed back to black."

An hour later, we sat in the waiting area of Metamorphosis, an upscale salon that specialized in "dramatic transformations."

"Amelia Colt?" A tall man with impeccably styled platinum hair approached us. "I'm Giovanni, creative director. Let's discuss your vision."

Amelia's expression remained neutral. "Black. All of it. No highlights, no lowlights, just black."

Giovanni's face fell as if she'd suggested cutting off her limbs. "But darling, with your complexion, we could do so much more. Perhaps midnight blue undertones? Or maybe we keep some caramel highlights to frame your face?"

"Black," Amelia repeated.

"Think of the possibilities! We could add texture, maybe some subtle waves, and if we're doing color, why not consider a complete makeover? New cut, maybe some contouring treatments—"

"No thanks."

Giovanni turned to me with desperate eyes. "Sir, surely you can help me convince her? A woman this beautiful deserves to explore her full potential."

Amelia's voice cut through his plea like a blade. "This is my hair. It's growing on my neck. Asking him won't accomplish anything."

Giovanni's smile became strained, and he gestured toward the styling chair with obvious reluctance.

Two hours later, we sat across from each other at a Mexican restaurant. Amelia had ordered something that required a liability waiver, while I'd opted for a simple cheese quesadilla. Her newly black hair framed her face in sharp contrast to her violet eyes, making her look impossibly striking.

"So," I said, poking at the beans on my plate, "what's next? For the future, I mean."

She paused mid-bite of what appeared to be molten lava disguised as enchiladas. "Next?"

"Your plans. Where do you see yourself in a year, five years?" The words came out awkwardly, like I was conducting a job interview instead of talking to the woman I loved.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "there's overseeing Round Table's transition, establishing new training protocols, and building relationships with government contractors. Oh, right, and I need to finish my degree."

"You're going back to university?" I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Of course." She took another bite of her food without flinching. "I finally have a chance to live like a normal person. I'm not about to waste it."

The casual way she said it hit me harder than I'd expected. After everything we'd been through, she still wanted normalcy. Still believed it was possible.

"Nothing else?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral.

She fixed on me with predatory focus. "Jason, what exactly are you trying to ask?"

Heat crept up my neck. Professional interrogation techniques hadn't prepared me for this kind of conversation. "I was wondering... in all those future plans... if there might be room for my name too?"

She set down her fork, waiting.

The words came out in a rush. "I want to marry you, Amelia."

Her smile was immediate and brilliant. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Obviously yes." She leaned back in her chair, still smiling. "But next time, just say what you mean. All that hemming and hawing doesn't suit a federal agent."

The drive home was filled with practical planning.

"We'll get the license after my birthday next year," she said. "Small ceremony, maybe something outdoors. I'm thinking late spring, good weather for photos."

"You've thought about this before?"

"Yes." She glanced at me sideways. "And about children... I'd like to have one around twenty-five. Experience motherhood, see if I enjoy it. If it goes well, maybe a second."

The specificity caught me off guard. "You've planned out reproduction?"

"Jason, I plan out everything." Her expression grew more serious. "Though I should probably get a medical evaluation first. Considering my training history and the number of times I've been injured, there might be complications."

Something cold settled in my stomach. "And if there are complications?"

"Then we'll deal with it."

"You know," I said carefully, "if we can't have kids, that's fine too. As long as I have you—"

"Hell no." The vehemence in her voice made me swerve slightly. "I know you mean well, but this has to be my decision. After everything I've been through, I need to have control over my own body and my life."

I realized I'd stepped into dangerous territory. "Of course, I didn't mean to imply—"

"I'd be the one carrying them. I'd be the one giving birth." Her voice had taken on the same edge it used when she'd corrected the salon director. "With my resources and Round Table's network, raising children wouldn't be a burden."

I tried to backtrack. "This is years away. We don't need to figure everything out now—"

"Actually," she said, brightening considerably, "we could always create a child now using haploid gamete and stem cell cloning technology. Skip the whole pregnancy process, have a baby to practice with."

I nearly drove off the road. "What?"

"The technology's been around for a long time. Jared was born using that method." She was clearly enjoying my horrified expression. "We could literally build a baby in a lab."

"Amelia, that's... that goes against every natural law—"

"I'm kidding," she said, laughing. "Though the technology does exist."

Relief flooded through me, but the conversation had stirred something uncomfortable. "It's just... I worry about our lifestyle. The danger, the instability. Would that be fair to a child?"

"What do you mean."

I pulled into our driveway and turned to face her fully. "Your work, even with Round Table going legitimate, it's still high-risk. My job with FSOD isn't exactly a nine-to-five either. I just wonder if... if a child would be safe in that kind of environment."

The temperature in the car dropped ten degrees.

"Are you seriously suggesting I'm unfit for motherhood?" Her voice was dangerously quiet.

"No, that's not what I meant at all." I tried to find the right words. "You're incredibly capable, Amelia. It's just... we've both seen what this world can do to people. The violence, the betrayals. Maybe a child deserves something more stable."

"More normal, you mean." She turned to face me fully. "Like the normal childhood I never had?"

The pain in her voice made my chest tighten. "I didn't say that."

"Then stop telling me what I should want. What would be 'fair' to hypothetical children." She got out of the car, then leaned down to look at me through the open door. "I thought you understood who I am. Maybe I was wrong."