Chapter 210

Chapter 210

Elizabeth's POV

"Alexander, what kind of life do you want for us from now on?"

He was quiet for a moment. "A normal one."

I looked at him. "What does 'normal' mean to you?"

He said it simply, like he'd already pictured every part of it. "Waking up in the morning and having coffee. You go to your studio, I go to the office. We come home at night and have dinner together. On weekends, we go out somewhere. When the baby is born, we take them to see the ocean, go hiking, go everywhere we've never been before."

They were the most ordinary words in the world, and tears slipped down my face.

Not because I was sad.

Because I was moved.

His idea of normal was something he'd never had in all fifteen years.

"Alexander, we'll have all of that."

He turned to look at me, and the corner of his mouth lifted a little. The smile was faint, but I saw it. "Yeah. We will."

Life settled into peace again.

The way Alexander and I got along was more natural, more easy, than even I had expected.

Sometimes he would say, without any lead-in, "The weather's nice today. Want to go for a walk?"

I'd set my book down and look at him. "Where to?"

"Nowhere special. Just a walk."

He changed, and I changed too.

He put on a dark coat. I wore a light-colored jacket.

One dark, one light, we walked side by side along the path outside the villa.

Ginkgo trees lined both sides of the path. Most of their leaves had already fallen, and the ones still clinging to the branches shone gold under the sun.

"When did you plant the ginkgo trees here?" I asked.

"Three years ago."

"I wasn't living here three years ago."

He looked ahead as he answered, his voice calm and certain. "From now on, this is your home."

The leaves rustled in the wind. One by one, golden ginkgo leaves drifted down, landing on our shoulders and at our feet.

I stopped, bent down, and picked one up, holding it to the light.

The veins showed clear and delicate, each line fine as brushwork in a painting.

"Alexander, let's come see the ginkgo trees every year."

"Okay. Every year."

He took my hand, threading our fingers together, and we kept walking.

That was how the days passed, one after another.

Franklin's case was still moving through the courts. Gray's health was good some days and bad on others. Under Alexander's control, the Windsor Group gradually stabilized.

So much was still happening beyond the walls of the villa, but inside it, everything became simple.

In the mornings, before he left, he would kiss my forehead.

Light. Steady. Just enough for me to feel it.

During the day, I worked on design sketches in the studio while he sat through meetings at the office.

Sometimes we texted. Usually, it was just [Have you eaten?] or [What are you doing?] 

Now and then, he'd send a few more words, like [Come home early tonight.]

If he got back early in the evening, he'd eat with me.

The baby kept growing, and the movements came more often.

Sometimes it was a kick. Sometimes a turn. Sometimes it felt like the baby was rolling around inside me.

Every night, Alexander would rest his hand on my belly and wait for the baby to move.

If the baby stayed still, he said nothing. He just waited quietly.

When the baby did move, the corner of his mouth would lift ever so slightly. Barely there. But I noticed every time.

"Alexander, have you picked a name for the baby yet?"

He thought about it for a moment. "If it's a girl, Nora."

Spring came.

Fresh buds appeared on the ginkgo trees, tender and green, swaying lightly at the tips of the branches.

The flowers in the garden were in bloom too, red and white and pink, clustered together like children who had never known worry.

Lisa was crouched beside a flower bed, loosening the soil around the roots. When she saw us come out of the house, she waved.

"Mr. Windsor, Ms. Spencer, the weather is gorgeous today."

Alexander answered, "It is."

We walked beneath the ginkgo trees while sunlight filtered through the new leaves, scattering broken patches of light across the ground.

His hand held mine, warm and strong.

"Alexander, do you think this is how life goes on?"

"Yes."

"Like this, all the time?"

"Like this. Always."

I smiled, the sunlight warm against my face.

The baby kicked, as if to say, "I'm here too."

I held Alexander's hand and understood, with a quiet certainty, that the future that belonged to the two of us had only just begun.