Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Kieran
Another morning waking in Stefan’s bed.
I could really get to like this.
Sleeping curled around another warm body felt incredible, something I hadn’t realised I was missing out on. All through our marriage, I’d gotten used to keeping to my side of the bed. Having Stefan slide between the sheets and instantly reach for me, pulling me to him?
I loved it.
Waking to find his arms still around me, as though he couldn’t bring himself to release me during sleep?
I loved that even more.
I lay on my side, watching Stefan as he shifted beside me, one arm resting behind his head, entirely at ease.
“You said you’d teach me something useful. In German,” I added quickly.
He glanced at me. “Did I?”
“Yes. The other day, when I embarrassed myself linguistically.”
Stefan smiled. “Ah yes. Eels. That was memorable.”
“I aim to impress.”
“Oh, you succeeded.”
I nudged him with my foot. “Go on then. Teach me something.”
He studied me for a moment, as if considering how much trouble he wanted to cause.
“Very well,” he said. “Repeat after me.”
I raised my eyebrows. “This sounds dangerous.”
His eyes twinkled. “It is.”
That did not reassure me.
Stefan leaned in. “Du bist schon,” he said in a low voice.
My breath caught. “I already know what that means.”
“And I’m saying it because it’s true.”
I couldn’t look away. “You think I’m… beautiful?”
Stefan didn’t break eye contact. “Yes. Your turn. Say it for me.”
I hesitated. “Du bist… schon.”
His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes did. “Good.” His voice was quiet. He paused again. “Want to try another one?”
“Go for it.” I had to wonder what was next.
“Du machst mich verrückt.”
I repeated it carefully. “Du… machst mich verrückt. And that means?”
Stefan tilted his head. “You make me crazy.”
I snorted. “That seems unlikely.” It didn’t stop my pulse from quickening, however.
I shifted closer to him. “What about something practical?”
“Like what?”
I pretended to think for a moment. “How do I say ‘I don’t have a hovercraft full of eels’?”
Stefan stared at me, then burst out laughing, the sound warm and unguarded. “I’m not teaching you that.”
I gaped at him. “Why not? It could be important.”
“If that becomes important, we have bigger problems.”
I smiled. “Fair point.” I cupped his cheek, and said quietly, “Du bist schon.”
This time, I didn’t stumble over it.
Stefan didn’t answer immediately, but the look he gave me sent warmth flooding through me. “Good,” he said at last.
This time, I knew exactly what he meant.
“How’s your rug rash?” I asked in an innocent tone.
He laughed, then rolled me onto my back. “It’s fine. And you are not subtle at all.”
I looked into his eyes. “Good.”
I put my hand on his arm as we reached the corner. I could already hear the event before I saw any of it, a low, constant hum, a mix of music layered over voices raised in laughter and chatter.
“Do I look okay?” My heart hammered, and my palms felt clammy.
Stefan placed his hands on my shoulders and gazed into my eyes. “As amazing as you did at the concert.” He kissed me on the lips. “And I am so proud to be taking you through this.” He straightened. “Ready?”
I lifted my chin high. “As I’ll ever be.”
Then he took my hand in his, and we turned the corner onto Fuggerstra?e.
The street was full, not crowded in the way that pushes you back, but dense with presence. There were people everywhere, moving slowly, deliberately, as if no one had anywhere else to be.
Leather caught the light first. Black, polished, matte, worn—jackets, harnesses, boots, caps. It wasn’t uniform. That was the first thing that struck me. Nothing matched, and yet everything belonged.
I slowed without meaning to, my eyes moving from one group to another, trying to take it all in. Men talking, laughing, touching easily—hands on shoulders, on backs, on waists. Some dressed simply, others… not. Three men wore red aprons, and judging by the back view of them, nothing else.
I wasn’t seeing costumes or performances, but choices. Expressions.
I caught the scent of something sharp and smoky drifting through the air. At a nearby stand they were grilling meat, but mixed in with that aroma was beer, leather, cologne, and something warmer, more human beneath it all.
It wasn’t unpleasant, but my God, it was real.
Music pulsed ahead of us, the bass low and steady, blending with the sound of boots on asphalt, voices overlapping in German, English, different languages, things I didn’t quite catch. A cheer went up from somewhere to my left, followed by laughter.
What struck me wasn’t the shock of it all, but the lack of it. No one was staring, or judging, or pretending not to see.
I didn’t have a word for it yet.
Stefan’s hand found the small of my back, his touch light and steadying.
“I know,” he said. That helped. I glanced at him, and realised instantly that he wasn’t watching the crowd—he was watching me, not in any kind of assessment, but just there.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah.” I was overwhelmed, but not in a way that made me want to step back. If anything, I wanted to do the opposite. I looked around again, slower this time, letting my gaze settle instead of skimming.
A group passed us, laughing, one of them calling out Stefan’s name. He answered easily, exchanging a few words, a brief touch, then turned back to me as if nothing had interrupted anything.
This is his world. Not something he visited, but a place he moved through without effort. I felt that more than anything else, as the spectacle and the noise washed over me, and I stepped a little closer to him without thinking, out of instinct.
In the middle of all this, he was the one constant, and for the first time since we’d turned onto the street, I stopped trying to understand everything at once, and let it come to me instead.
The sound of it, the movement, the heat of bodies passing close, the brush of leather, the rise and fall of voices around me… .
Folsom had its own rhythm, alive and unfiltered.
I wasn’t merely observing this anymore. I was in it, with him, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
We hadn’t gone far before someone called out, “Stefan!” The voice cut cleanly through the noise, deep and unmistakable.
I turned with him to see Dieter striding towards us, Gertrude tucked comfortably under one arm as if she’d been part of this scene her entire life. He was dressed much the same as the other day—bare arms, sun-warmed skin, entirely unbothered by the attention he drew.
“I knew I’d find you here,” he said with a grin. His gaze shifted to me, then back to Stefan. “And you brought company.” Dieter’s eyes sparkled. “How do you find all this?”
“I’m starting to realise I picked a hell of a weekend to visit Berlin.”
He laughed, the sound easy and open. “You’ve not seen anything yet.”
That was both reassuring and mildly terrifying.
“Dieter, move,” another voice cut in, lighter, amused. “You’re blocking traffic.”
I recognised Tyrone from the concert. His attention landed squarely on me. “Well, hello again, handsome.”
It was then that it hit me.
I didn’t feel uncomfortable. Flustered, yes, but not out of place.
“Kieran!”
I turned, and Hans strode over to join us, wearing the tightest leather pants I had ever seen, coupled with a harness and bars through his nipples, linked by a chain. His face lit up. “Have you learned any more German?”
“A bit,” I confessed.
He grinned. “And probably stuff you wouldn’t feel comfortable saying in public, I’ll bet.” His gaze flickered in Stefan’s direction, then back to me. “You seem to be taking this well.”
I blinked. “I think so.”
Dieter nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. “You sticking with him?” he asked, inclining his head towards Stefan.
I hesitated, then nodded.
“Good answer,” Tyrone said immediately.
“Correct answer,” Hans amended.
Stefan’s hand brushed against my back again.
Not only was I welcome here, I wasn’t navigating it alone.
Dieter clapped Stefan on the shoulder. “We’ll see you later.”
“Enjoy yourselves,” Hans added.
Tyrone winked at me. “Try not to fall in love with the city too quickly.”
Too late.
They moved off into the crowd as easily as they’d appeared, swallowed back into the rhythm of the street. I watched them go for a moment, then glanced at Stefan.
“That was…” I searched for the word.
“Overwhelming?” he suggested.
“A little,” I admitted. Then, after a beat, I added, “But not in a bad way.”
He nodded. “I thought not.”
I looked around again, drinking in the movement, the noise, the life that seemed to throb through the street.
This doesn’t feel like something I have to get used to.
It felt like something I was already beginning to understand.
We walked on, until a man stepped into my path, close enough to make me stop, but not aggressively. He was around my age, maybe a little younger, broad-shouldered, dressed in leather that looked worn in rather than put on for the day. His gaze was direct.
“Hi,” he said.
I blinked, then found my voice. “Hi.”
Up close, there was a faint scent of leather and something sharper—aftershave, maybe. He didn’t crowd me, didn’t push into my space, but there was no mistaking the focus of his attention.
“Is this your first time at Folsom?”
I laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
He smiled. “Only because you’re looking at everything like it matters.”
I stilled. “That’s because it does.”
That seemed to please him. “I’m Lukas,” he said, offering his hand.
“Kieran.”
His grip was firm and brief, his gaze flicking to Stefan who didn’t move, but simply stood there, calm and composed.
Watching me.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lukas asked me.
“Yes, I am.”
“That’s good.” He paused, then added with the same easy directness, “Can I buy you a drink later?”
For a moment, I didn’t know how to react. I hadn’t expected something like this to happen. I glanced at Stefan once more, to see no reaction at all. He didn’t exude any tension, just his usual steady presence.
He’s letting me deal with this.
That felt huge.
I turned back to Lukas. “I’m here with him,” I said, nodding towards Stefan.
Lukas followed the gesture, then looked back at me with a smile. “Yeah, I figured. Not a problem. Enjoy the rest of your day, Kieran.”
“You too.”
He stepped away as easily as he’d approached, disappearing back into the flow of the street.
I stood there for a moment before turning to Stefan. “You didn’t think to intervene?”
“No. Why would I have done? It wasn’t my place to answer for you.”
I cocked my head. “You were going to let me say yes.”
He shrugged. “If that was what you wanted.”
I held his gaze. “I wasn’t going to.”
“I know.”
Of course he did.
I shook my head, unable to stop myself from smiling. “Does no one in this city waste their time?”
He grinned. “No one.”
I looked around again, the movement of the street settling differently now, feeling less overwhelming, more navigable. Then without even thinking about it, I stepped closer to Stefan, not because I needed to, but because I wanted to.
Stefan’s hand was on my nape, his fingers gently stroking the skin.
I understood something I hadn’t been able to name before.
This isn’t just about being seen.
It was about choosing where I stood—and who I stood with.
“When you’re ready, we’ll eat,” he said in a low voice. “And then we’ll go back to my place to get ready for tonight.” His eyes met mine. “You still want to go?”
Heat and ice warred within me.
“Yes.”
I knew we’d discussed the party, but I still had no clue exactly what to expect.
That only added to the anticipation.