Rose Bridges

Bonus Chapter

Carmen
8 years later
32 years old

"Romero," I whisper yell out as I walk into the bedroom.

I stand in the doorway as I wait for him to respond.

Silence.

Except for his subtle snores.

I leave him alone for two seconds, two seconds, and he's already asleep.

Walking into our bedroom, I grab one of the light pink pillows and smack his head. "Wake up!" I whisper yell.

He groans and his eyes squeeze shut as he hugs his pillow tighter to himself. "Hm?"

I look to March who sits at his feet on the flower comforter. "Can you believe your father?" I ask her. Her small rabbit body sits in a loaf, completely not listening to me.

Looking back to Romero, I continue. "It's 12am and I'm tired and getting grumpy and we still haven't wrapped some of the kids' gifts," I grumble out while one hand and rests on my hip and the other on my bump.

Yawning like a cat fresh out of a four hour nap, he sits up and rubs his eyes.

Because I'm on my last thread of patience and would love to go to bed, I grab his forearm and tug him to stand up. "Let's go Romero, I don't have all night. We need sleep if we're going to be up 7am sharp from Gabriel and Isabel jumping on our bed saying that they want to open presents," I tell him sternly while dragging him behind me and down the stairs to our brownstone's living room.

"Mama bear means business tonight," he chuckles through his gruff tired voice before pulling me by my hand into his embrace with one hand wrapped around my shoulders and the other placed on my stomach.

Reaching down, I pinch his butt and he jumps.

I narrow my eyes and he lifts his hands up and backs up in surrender. "I'll get the wrapping paper." He nods as he backs up and then walks into the kitchen.

I hum and go into the guest bathroom to grab the few other toys plus the necklace I got for Isabel.

She wanted a toy mallet for Christmas, said she wanted to be just like me and her grandmother. I don't think she realizes a mallet is for judges, not lawyers, but it's okay. Romero insisted on naming her after the woman who helped save his life, so maybe the interest in law magically passed down through the name along with the blood.

Or she just happens to want to be like her mother and grandmother because she hears us talking about it so much. Either way, I'm quite happy.

The second I place the gifts down on the couch, I'm hit with a wave of emotion out of nowhere.

I look down to my belly, to the tall Christmas tree decorated in champagne and light pink ornaments, to the gifts we're going to wrap for our two kids.

And suddenly I'm in tears, weeping, and hiccuping.

Romero comes back into the room holding wrapping paper and looking very confused and worried while standing in front of me in his Christmas printed pajama pants that Isabel asked him to wear and his cringey best dad shirt that I bought for him as joke because it's really ugly. Which for some reason makes me cry harder because now I'm thinking about how much I love him and how good of a husband and dad he is.

"Oh baby I know," he soothes quietly as he sits down next to me and pulls me into his chest. He doesn't question me, he already knows the routine. Especially when I'm pregnant.

"I love you-you so-so muchhhh," I whimper into his shirt.

"Shhh, it's okay. I love you too baby," he assures me as he pulls he lays back, pulling me with him, and laying the blanket over us and adjusting it to cover me completely.