“I don’t feel judged or ashamed for what happened to me,” Amara says with a quiver in her voice. “I thought I’d eventually die at Jamie’s hands. It was just a matter of time before he lost control and ended up killing me.”
“I was only a means to an end for my brother and Gray,” Jessia quickly pipes in. “All I was good for to them was a babysitter for Ella, and a punching bag and sexual exploitation when they wanted me to suffer. I was nothing more than an object to the two of them. I was ready to die, Shamus. You saved me from that outcome.” I hear two simultaneous growls leave Malice and Texas with that observation from my friend. “I’ve never come right out and thanked you, Shamus. For that, I’m deeply sorry. But I’m eternally grateful and don’t feel like thank you is good enough.”
“You never have to thank me for anything,” Shamus hurries to say. “You’re family, ladies. This is where you’re meant to be. You are all so damn strong, I’m happy that you’re able to look past the fact that we have a dick and trust us; even though the male population has never given you a reason to do so.”
“With y’alls sacrifices alone, you’ve proven that not all men are alike,” Amara tells him. “You’ve given me hope for the future.”
With those words, there isn’t a dry eye in the room. Even the men seem to be lost for words as they look anywhere but at us. Tyson wraps an arm around Amara as Texas and Malice surround Jessia.
“Okay, ladies! I need y’alls help finding the perfect floor plan for my new house!” I holler out. We all scurry from the room, leaving the men to take charge of the kids.
Chapter Twenty
Star
Today, we’re meeting with the contractor of Shamus’ choice. He decided that waiting on Kruger’s home to be built is too long. So, he reached out to a buddy of his who owns his own firm, and we’re going to plan our perfect home. Shamus is determined to have a large home so we can built onto our family. He wants four bedrooms, a media room, home office and gym. I want a large kitchen so I can learn to cook meals for my family, a big bedroom for Ella so she can fill it with toys, books and everything she hasn’t been able to have up until now. And, no damn stairs, that’s my only requirement. I don’t want to be hauling laundry, cleaning supplies, or chasing kids up and down stairs all day.
It just sounds exhausting when you think about it.
Ella is with the other old ladies up in the club’s media room. It’s turned into a playroom of sorts for the kids. It’s filled to the brim with activities to keep them occupied. All Ella asked in return is that I make sure her room is grey and pink, her two favorite colors at this time.
We are using Gunner’s office for some privacy. The man, Boston, has rolled out several blueprints of his designs for us to go over. There are two that Shamus and I like different aspects of, we’re now incorporating the two homes into one.
That’s a lot of cleaning to do on my part. I’m already feeling anxious about it.
“I just don’t understand why it need to be so big,” I tell Shamus, crossing my arms over my chest. “There’s only three of us right now, and it’s not as if we plan on building our own sports team down the road.”
“Maybe not,” he harrumphs, “but I want us to have enough room so that when Ella and our future kids get older, they’re not running on top of one another. Think about it, baby, wouldn’t it be nice for Momma and Daddy to have their own space to escape to?”
“That’s what our bedroom is for, Shamus. I don’t need an entire extra room to myself.”
“I need a room to fill with testosterone, Star. A place where me and the men can escape. If I wanna belch, fart, watch porn, I don’t wanna be interrupted or told that I can’t do those things because the kids are around.”
“I’m not onboard with you belching or farting in our bedroom, but why can’t you watch porn in there, Shamus?” I’m growing agitated with his flimsy excuses.
“Babe, I need a room to myself to where I can let go. And down the road, you’ll thank me for getting you your own as well.”
“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes because it seems this is a battle I’m not going to win.
“So, is that a yes to the extra rooms?” Boston asks us.
“Yes,” Shamus acknowledges, but I keep my mouth zipped.
“You’re hiring me a damn maid, Shamus,” I input. “I’m not keeping that much space clean on my own. I’ll never get to do anything outside of cleaning and I refuse to live that way.”
“Honey, I’ll hire you a complete staff if you want me to,” Shamus winks at me.
“I don’t want a damn staff,” I pout. “I just don’t want to spend my days being Joan Cleaver.”
“You won’t have time with all the kids I plan on knocking you up with,” he teases me which causes a smirk to cross my face. Damn him! I wanted to stay mad at his ass, then
