Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4)
Redeemed: Epilogue

Two pink lines. That’s all it takes to change my life.

I shake the stick, as if it can make one of the lines fade away. “This isn’t a freaking Etch A Sketch, Chloe.” No, it’s just a positive pregnancy test.

Me. Pregnant.

“Holy shit.”

Wait, I can’t say shit anymore.

Oh my God. I’m pregnant. Like really, actually, ninety-nine percent pregnant, if the statistics on the drugstore pregnancy test are accurate. I instantly regret purchasing the test in advance and storing it in my bathroom because now I have no way to deny the facts.

I’m going to have a child with Santiago. I sink onto the cool tile of the bathroom because I don’t trust my legs at the moment.

How did this happen?

When two people have sex without—

Okay, obviously I know how it happened. But how did it happen so fast? Santiago and I just agreed to stop using condoms less than a few months ago. I mean, shit, we only got married this year. And after hearing Maya’s struggles about having kids, I anticipated it might take some time for us. But this? Seriously, what kind of magic sperm does Santiago have?

The hand that clutches the pregnancy test trembles. Shit. I’m really going to be a mom. Like I’m about to go from sex marathons and lazy Sundays to changing diapers, breast-feeding, and complaining to Brooke about how much it sucks to put a stroller in the trunk of a car while managing an infant.

“But what if I’m a terrible mother? What if they hate me because I mess up or think that I’m not as good as all the other moms in their class because I can’t cook, or bake, or even do much without fumbling—”

“Chloe, are you feeling okay? You left the dinner table in a rush.” Santiago’s voice carries through the closed door.

I left because my phone sent me an alert right in the middle of our dinner about missing my period two weeks in a row. Clearly, my tracking app has it more put together than me at the moment.

“Sure.” My voice croaks.

“Do you need any help?”

“Define what you mean by help?”

He coughs. “Well, umm, is there enough toilet paper in there?”

I’m tempted to open the door only to slam it in his face after.

“Just so you know, bathroom jokes are so not welcome in this marriage.”

“That didn’t make you laugh? Now I know something really is wrong with you.” The doorknob rattles, but the lock stays in place.

“Go away,” I mumble.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I crawl to the door and turn the lock. It opens with a soft click, and Santiago enters the space. His eyes bounce between the test in my hand and my face.

“Because thanks to you and your magic sperm, I’m pregnant.”

His face leeches of color. He drops ungracefully onto the floor and pulls me into his body. “Holy shit. You’re pregnant.”

“It’s ‘holy shirt’ now. No cursing in front of the child, please.”

Santiago throws his head back and laughs. I crack a smile, but no laughter escapes me.

His brows draw together as he assesses my face. “What’s the matter? I thought this was what you wanted?”

The arms I love tighten around me, securing me to his body. God, I’ll miss him being able to hug me like this. It’ll never be the same once I become the size of a human beach ball.

“Chloe?” He places a soft kiss at the crook of my neck.

A few tears leak out of my eyes. “I’m happy. I promise I am.” And I really am, but it’s a lot to process right now, and my mind struggles to keep up.

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because I’m afraid I’ll never be good enough for our child.”

He squeezes me tighter before turning me around in his lap, forcing me to face him. His hand tucks a loose lock of my hair behind my ear. “You’ll be the best mother.”

“Of course you have to say that. You knocked me up, after all.”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m saying it because I truly believe you will be. The kind of love you share with those closest to you is the most precious gift, and I’m somewhat jealous I have to share it with—”

“Jellybean.”

“Jellybean.” He smiles wide, the brown color of his eyes lightening. “So, yeah, I’m jealous Jellybean will steal part of your love away from me, but I’ll manage.”

“How gracious of you.”

He places a soft kiss against my lips. “I mean it. You’ll be the most incredible mother. You’re generous and kind. Forgiving yet strong. The best kind of role model and the best kind of friend. Whether we only have one child or a horde of them—”

I hold out my hand. “Okay, whoa. Let’s start with Jellybean and see how it goes because the word horde just had my vagina clench in fear.”

Santiago roars with laughter, and I join him. Together on the bathroom floor, we discuss ideas related to our future horde, from ridiculous gender reveal party ideas to outrageous baby names.

But in all the craziness, there is one thing Santiago and I settle on. Together, we will raise this baby with every ounce of love we have in us.

And while Santiago has had his chance to redeem himself with racing, this is mine.

It’s time to let go of my past and actually mean it.

“Do you think he really has a chance of winning?” I look over at Noah.

The pit crew stays seated on one side of the garage, prepped and ready to go if Santiago needs a change of tires. Maya entertains Marko with a coloring book in a corner near the entrance to the suites.

James stands by the computers, calling out orders while feeding Santiago information through the team radio.

“If he lands on the podium this race, then he solidifies his first-place standing. He’ll be a World Champion again.”

Wow. I knew Santiago was good. Hell, I knew he was great. He’s spent the last two seasons working his ass off to make it on podiums. But World Championship material after his accident? Now that speaks to his talent more than my words can.

It hasn’t been an easy road to get here. Phantom pains still flare up occasionally, and he struggles some days more than others. But Santiago fights every single day to be the best at everything he can.

At racing. At marriage. At preparing to be the best father for our baby boy.

I rub my bulging belly. The diamond on my ring shines under the pit lights, reflecting a rainbow of colors on the ceiling.

I look up at the screens broadcasting the race from Santiago’s dashboard camera. He’s in second place right now, and while that will secure him points to land on the podium, it won’t make him a World Champion.

This is the last race of the season. It’s now or never for him to earn the title he has been chasing after since he came back.

Santiago hangs behind Elías, one of McCoy’s best drivers. Every move my husband makes to get around Elías’s gray car is met with resistance by the McCoy driver.

“Come on.” Noah runs a hand through his hair.

Santiago presses on the throttle. His car shoots down the straight, driving up to Elías’s side. They drive in tandem down the narrow road.

The turn comes up, and Santiago breaks a second later than Elías, giving him more speed through the turn.

Santiago pulls in front of Elías, securing the first-place spot. The garage cheers as Santiago rushes through the next straight. Elías stays in his rearview, unable to get the upper hand.

A kick in my stomach has me clutching onto Noah’s arm for stability.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh my God. The baby just kicked! For real this time, not that usual bubble feeling or fluttering.” I grab Noah’s hand and shove it against my stomach. I don’t bother asking for permission because I need someone to confirm it’s not just my imagination.

“Oh, wow. You’ve got a little fighter.” Noah chuckles.

“Maya! Come here. The baby is kicking like he’s kung fu fighting!”

She runs over and replaces Noah’s hand with her own. “Ahh! He’s a strong one.”

I cringe when another kick lands somewhere near my bladder. “Are they always this active?”

“This is only the beginning. Santiago’s going to freak out when he realizes he missed this.” Maya frowns.

My eyes focus back on the TV. I rub my belly in a circular motion, hoping to ease the baby. “Are you excited for your daddy too, little guy?”

I take the next kick to my stomach as a yes.

Santiago doesn’t let his guard down for the rest of the race. He sails past the finish line, and the crew goes wild.

“He did it!” I jump into Maya’s arms. We cry together, the matching tears streaming down our faces as Santiago parks his car in his first-place spot.

We walk, even though my heart wishes I could run. My baby has other plans like throwing a private party in my belly.

Someone passes Santiago his iWalk as soon as he lifts himself out of the car. He straps it on and stands, ripping off his helmet in the process. He turns toward us and shoots us a huge smile.

“You won! You’re officially a World Champion!” I walk straight into his waiting arms and breathe in his scent of sweat and gasoline.

Is it healthy? No.

Is it slightly addictive and reminds me solely of him? You betcha.

“I already was a World Champion before this.”

I punch him lightly in the arm. “Now’s not the time to be cocky.”

“You’re right. How rude of me. I’ll refrain, seeing as I have the perfect evidence of my cockiness right in front of me.” He places his gloved hands against my belly.

“Hold on. Take your gloves off.”

He follows my request and bites the tips, successfully ripping them off.

Who knew glove removal could be this sexy? Sign me up for a replay, please.

“You’re daydreaming again.” He smiles.

“Sorry. Look!” I place his hands against the spot that was active not a minute before.

“Am I supposed to rub your belly and make a wish?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Asshole. Just wait.”

It doesn’t take more than a minute for our little guy to return with a vengeance.

“Ay Dios,” Santiago whispers under his breath. “Is that what I think it is?”

“He’s happy Daddy won the Championship!”

Santiago keeps his hands on my stomach as he leans down and captures my lips with his. He deepens the kiss, stroking his tongue against mine. People clapping forces us apart.

His eyes glitter with happiness. “I won more than a Championship. I won a woman who makes me appreciate every day how lucky I am to have survived that crash in the first place. Because I couldn’t imagine never meeting the one person who completes me. I never believed in soulmates before you, but I’ll be damned if you didn’t make me a dreamer with your wishes and wildflowers and smile that could make any bad day instantly better.”

My hormones take over, and the tears make an encore appearance.

“I love you.”

There’s no doubt in my mind that I love this fearless man with everything in me. The man who taught me love isn’t something to be feared but revered. The very one who spends every single day of his life showing me how much he loves me—with his words, with his actions, with every breath he takes to support our family.

I’ll love Santiago Alatorre for as long as the wildflowers keep growing in beautiful chaos.