Chapter Twenty-Five
Sophie
The last few weeks have been blissful. Spencer’s been home far more than ever before, often working from here. He’s quiet, as if deep in contemplation but seems more relaxed, and dare I say happier.
He’s been speaking to Dr. Klein once a week. It’s impossible to say how much he’s getting from those meetings, and how much of his progress is because of the additional time he’s spending with us, giving us the opportunity to reinforce how much we love him.
He seems to be gradually accepting that Carlo and I will always be here for him, whatever his desires are.
The two of them have had a few nights together, and whenever Spencer comes home, he’s a little sheepish, but I sense it’s getting easier.
Seeing Spence with Lily literally has my ovaries bursting. When she returns home from preschool, it’s as if he’s drawn to her. He insists she comes to the office to say hello the instant we walk through the door.
For the first few days, I planned activities to keep her amused but her arrival always seemed to distract him from his work.
As a result, this family time significantly cut into his working hours.
I can’t see how it’s sustainable, though for now, both Spencer and Lily are benefiting enormously from the new dynamic.
One night, I made cookies with Lily, thinking it would be an activity to keep her quiet. But Spencer joined us. ‘Helping’.
By the time we’d finished, somehow, we seemed to have used every bowl and utensil in the kitchen. It was chaos, but we’d had so much fun.
Once Spencer had settled his daughter in front of the TV with a glass of milk and one of ‘her’ cookies, he came back to help with the kitchen cleanup, to find me tearfully washing up.
“Hey.”
He turned me, smothering me against his chest.
“What’s wrong?”
I squeezed him to me, my soapy hands dripping down the back of his shirt and trousers. Arching my back, I gazed up into his gorgeous face, which was lined with concern, and choked out, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’ve never been happier.”
As if my words gave him the answer to world peace, his smile lit up his entire face.
“I love you, Soph.”
“I know,” I said.
Since that event two weeks ago, there have been many similar occasions. Spencer’s even been to school with me to collect our daughter.
He’s been there before when we enrolled her, but Spencer’s a busy man. Usually, he’s working in the city all day and doesn’t have time for school pickup. So, for Lily, seeing her father at her school was very exciting.
She was in her element, showing him around everywhere, making the staff swoon and the other mothers drool.
Lily wasn’t the only one my husband couldn’t stay away from while working from home. He regularly called me into his office to lay me out on his desk.
He seems to have made it a daily thing, after lunch, but before I collect our daughter.
Yesterday as I was lying in his arms, he announced that he’s planning to take a step back from the business, explaining that the deal he’s struck in Dubai alone will be enough to support us for the rest of our lives.
Rupert will become a partner, and although Spencer will retain his role as CEO, Rupert will take over much of Spencer’s daily work.
However, they still need to find someone else to fill Rupert’s previous legal role.
This afternoon while I’m lying in my new favorite position, following yet another earth-shattering orgasm from his golden tongue. I listen as he explains more plans for our future.
Since Spencer started his counseling, there’s no stopping him from speaking about his emotions. He regularly confesses his undying love for me.
“I can’t wait for the time when I can work from home permanently; I love being home with you and Lily.”
In my semi-comatose state, I smile up at him, and my heart swells. I’ve waited years for this; it hardly seems real.
He studies me for a moment, and the slight anxiety in his expression tells me he has another announcement.
“What would you think about traveling more while Lily’s still young?”
Nicky came over for dinner the other day. She’s just returned from the trip of a lifetime to South America. She told us endless colorful stories about her trip. Her romantic-sounding tale mesmerized Spencer.
“You know I’d love to, but what about Lily?”
“She’d come with us, of course,” he explains, as if he’d never heard such a ridiculous question. “I’ve been talking to Nicky.”
My eyes dart to him. As far as I’m aware, Spencer has never communicated with my friend without my knowledge before.
“I want to take you away.” His shoulder raises. “For a second honeymoon if you like. I’m not planning to rough it like Nicky does when she travels; we’d be staying at a luxury resort in the Maldives for two weeks with Nicky and Lily.”
My eyes grow wide.
“You can have some time with your friend; go to the spa, or whatever. There’s diving and watersports opportunities, activities for children. But mostly it’s a chance for us to reconnect away from everything here. I’m hoping Nicky can help look after Lily and give us some couple time.”
Overwhelmed by the idea, I throw my arms around him, pulling us even closer.
“If all goes well; we can talk about doing a longer, more challenging trip together, maybe next year.”
I kiss him hard. I’ve often envied Nicky for her traveling lifestyle. She’s seen some wonderful sights. To see them with her and my family feels like a dream come true.
“That would be amazing. I love the idea,” I squeal.
“Good,” he says, with a beaming smile on his face.
His gaze drops lower, studying my naked body curled up on his lap.
“Now, personally, I think you’ve never looked better than you do at this moment but we need to get ready. We’ll be leaving in an hour.”
Spencer asked me to accompany him to a charity event. He explained several weeks ago that when he didn’t come home; he wasn’t always at the club. Sometimes, he was at the Govern Trust, spending time with the children and families.
“I was dressed, but my husband doesn’t seem to like me wearing clothes anymore,” I sass back with a grin.
As I unfold myself from his lap, I notice the dress I’d carefully selected for this event this morning in a pile on the floor.
It’s a plain but elegant wrap dress I chose because it wasn’t too flashy or revealing.
I stoop to pick it up. It looks like an old rag now; covered in wrinkles.
Spencer’s eyes heat my skin again when I catch him ogling me. A spike of something playful flutters in my chest.
“If you don’t leave this room in five seconds, I’m going to lay you out and bury this into you.” I glance down at his hand in his crotch, a growing bulge forming under the fabric of his trousers.
“Five, you say?” I chew on my lip purposefully, wasting time.
I’m slowly counting down in my head, and when I get to five, I amble toward the door. Until I hear his chair creak, telling me he’s stood up.
Without turning to glance back, I’m certain he’s coming for me. With a squeal, I run for the stairs, sprinting toward our bedroom at full pelt. But he’s faster.
My husband rarely fucks me now, preferring to lay me out carefully, and make slow, romantic love to me. His adoring caress has the power to melt me every time, but the excitement of being chased. The thrill of him catching me and throwing me down to fuck me hard will never grow old.
Later that afternoon, in the back of our town car, I do my best to perfect my makeup, but it’s almost impossible to hide my post-orgasm glow.
“Stop fidgeting; you look beautiful. You always do,” Spencer tells me, with a smirk.
But I know how important this event is to him. In the last few weeks, I’ve learned that these charities are my husband’s passion projects.
Since the initial success of his business, I’ve been aware of Spencer’s support of children’s charities, particularly kids from deprived families. However, I’d assumed it was just something he did for tax relief. Learning that helping these families lights a torch under him was a surprise.
Spencer’s never known what it is to struggle financially. Money always seems to have come easily to him but he’s had plenty of other difficulties. That he is so generously giving back to people less fortunate makes me very proud.
When we arrive, he introduces me to the Trust organizers, a husband and wife, Brendon and Elizabeth James. I’d estimate they’re in their early sixties. Their welcome is warm; they seem delighted to meet me, and I can tell from their interaction with Spencer that they know each other well.
Within a few minutes, they politely withdraw, leaving Spencer to show me around.
We trail slowly past each exhibit, taking time to examine the children’s art on the walls. Each board displays a staged process in pictures drawn by the children. The idea is to show each step in their therapy through pictures.
Spencer explains that upon meeting a new child, therapists suggest the child sits at a desk filled with colored pens, crayons, and pencils and draws something that reflects how they feel.
Some of the childish pictures are gut-wrenching. The images clearly originate from a place of despair. In the early images, the kids often choose only one dark or angry color.
Some are scribbles made by very young children, which makes them harder to interpret. But several seem older, and it’s these that make me stop to appreciate how hard some of these young people have found life.
On a couple there are stick figures. One such drawing stood out because it so clearly told the artist’s story.
A colossal figure loomed menacingly over two much smaller figures, while a fourth lay on the floor, wearing a dress, with a knife beside it. It lead me to assume it was the child’s mother.
This single childish drawing makes me shudder at the thought of what that child has witnessed, how important it is for our young people to grow up in a safe, loving environment surrounded by love and understanding, whatever their color, creed, or sexuality.