Chapter 29 - The Midnight Stroll
Late that night, long after the gala had ended and the guests had departed, Vincent and Sloan returned to the penthouse.
The city outside was silent, wrapped in the quiet stillness of a December snowfall.
Willa and baby Samuel were fast asleep in their respective rooms down the hall.
Vincent walked out onto the private wrap-around terrace, wearing an unbuttoned shirt, holding two cups of hot chamomile tea. He handed one to Sloan, who joined him, pulling a cashmere shawl tightly around her shoulders as the cold winter air brushed against their skin.
“Remember the night I found you here?” Vincent asked softly, staring out at the snow-covered skyline of Manhattan.
Sloan smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. “How could I forget? You looked like a ghost who had accidentally wandered into the wrong movie.”
“I was a ghost,” Vincent admitted quietly. “I spent twenty years learning how to enter a room without being surprised, without letting anyone in, without ever risking the pain of loss.”
He turned, taking her face in his hands, looking deep into her dark, expressive eyes.
“And then you walked out of a storm on a dark country road—or in our case, into my penthouse bedroom with a newborn—and you completely shattered every wall I spent a lifetime building.”
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“I didn't shatter them, Vincent,” Sloan whispered, a tender smile touching her lips. “I just unlocked the door you were too afraid to open.”
Vincent leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of warmth, survival, and a future that nothing could ever threaten again.
