15. Stefan
— ? —
Stefan
The couch was too short for me.
My feet hung off the end, ankles resting on the armrest, and every time I shifted, the cushions dipped and groaned under my weight. But I didn’t care.
I pressed my face into the throw pillow and breathed deep. Baby shampoo. Something floral that was distinctly Layla.
Fuck. I was in her apartment. I was actually here, breathing the same air, existing in the same space for the first time in four years.
Down the hall, my daughter slept. My daughter.
The word still felt foreign in my mouth, too big and too important for my brain to fully process.
Cece, with her dark hair and brown eyes and that stubborn little chin that was all me.
She’d wished on the moon for a daddy. She’d wished for me, and she didn’t even know it.
I closed my eyes and let myself feel it. The quiet of the apartment settling around me. The distant hum of the refrigerator. The creak of old pipes in the walls. Normal sounds. Domestic sounds. The soundtrack of a life I’d been robbed of.
A floorboard creaked.
My eyes snapped open.
Layla stood in the doorway, backlit by the dim glow from the kitchen.
She’d changed into an oversized t-shirt that hung to mid-thigh, and my breath caught at the sight of her.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders, dark waves tumbling past her collarbone.
Her legs were bare, long and smooth, and her feet were pale against the hardwood floor.
She looked different than I remembered. Fuller in the hips. Softer in the belly. Her body had carried our child, had nourished our daughter, and the evidence of it made something primal stir in my chest. She was more beautiful now than she’d ever been.
“Hey.” I pushed myself up on one elbow.
“Hey.” She didn’t move from the doorway. Her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit I remembered from our marriage. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Too much in your head?”
“Everything is in my head.” She took a step into the room, then stopped. “I keep going over it. All of it. What she did. What we lost. The years we can’t get back.”
“Come here.” I shifted back on the couch, making room against the cushions.
She hesitated. I watched her war with herself, the uncertainty flicker across her face. Then she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the couch beside me.
The space wasn’t big enough for both of us. Not really. So she pressed against my side, fitting herself into the curve of my body like she’d done it a thousand times before. Her head found the hollow of my shoulder. Her hand settled on my chest, palm flat over my heartbeat.
Fuck. She was touching me. She was actually touching me, her body warm and solid against mine, and I had to close my eyes against the wave of emotion that crashed through me.
I wrapped my arm around her and held on.
“Tell me.” My voice came out rough, scraped raw. “Whatever’s keeping you awake. Tell me.”
Her fingers traced absent patterns on my chest. I could feel the heat of her palm through my shirt, could feel each individual finger as it moved across the fabric.
“I was alone when she was born.” The words came out soft. “In the hospital. Eighteen hours of labor and no one there to hold my hand.”
My arm tightened around her, pulling her closer.
“Nessa drove me when my water broke.” She kept talking, her voice steady but fragile. “But she couldn’t stay. So I did it alone. All those hours of contractions and pushing and screaming, and there was no one there who loved me.”
I pressed my lips to the top of her head, my eyes burning.
“And when they finally put her in my arms...” Her voice cracked. “I cried for hours, Stefan. Because she looked so much like you. I held our daughter and all I could see was you.”
“Lay.” Her name came out broken.
“I missed you so much.” She tilted her head to look up at me, and I saw the tears streaming down her face. “And I hated you so much. At the same time. I couldn’t make it make sense. How could I miss someone so desperately while hating them with everything I had?”
“I’m sorry.” I cupped her face, my thumb tracing the track of a tear. “God, Lay. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She leaned into my touch. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”
“It feels like my fault.” My voice cracked. “You were alone because of me. Because you believed something that wasn’t true. Because my mother fed you lies and I wasn’t there to contradict them.”
“It’s her fault.” Her jaw tightened under my palm. “Your mother did this to us. She made me believe you were a monster. She made you believe I abandoned you. She stole everything.”
“I know.” My voice went hard. “And I’m going to make her pay for every single day she took from us.”
Layla looked up at me, and I watched something shift in her expression. The grief softened. The anger banked. And underneath, something else rose to the surface. Something I recognized from a thousand nights in our bed. Something that made my pulse kick up and my body tighten.
She reached up and touched my face, her fingers tracing my jaw. The touch was light, exploratory, like she was relearning the shape of me.
I held perfectly still, barely breathing.
Her hand slid to the back of my neck. Her fingers tangled in my hair. She pulled me down.
Her lips brushed against mine, barely there, a question more than an answer. I let her lead, let her decide how much she wanted, how far she was willing to go.
Then her fingers curled in my shirt and she pulled me closer.
Her mouth opened under mine and I groaned, the sound tearing from somewhere deep in my chest. Four fucking years of dreaming about this, of waking up hard and aching with her name on my lips, of touching myself in the dark while pretending my hand was hers.
I’d forgotten this taste. I’d tried so hard to hold onto it, but the memory had faded over time, worn smooth like a stone in a river. The reality was sharper. Better. More.
I kissed her deeper, my tongue sliding against hers, swallowing the soft moan that escaped her throat. Her body arched into mine, pressing closer, and I could feel the heat of her through the thin cotton of her shirt.
“Lay.” I pulled back, breathing hard.
“Don’t stop.” Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling almost painfully. “Please don’t stop.”
“Are you sure?” Searching her face, looking for any hint of doubt. “Because if we do this, I’m not going to be able to walk away. I’m not going to be able to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I don’t want you to walk away.” Her voice broke on the words. “I’m so tired of being alone, Stefan. I’ve been alone for years and I can’t do it anymore. I need you. I need to feel you.”
“Fuck.” The word came out strangled. “Lay, I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“Then stop talking.” She pulled me down. “And show me.”
My hands found her waist, slid under the hem of her shirt, and touched bare skin. She gasped into my mouth and I swallowed the sound, my fingers spreading across her lower back.
Her skin was so soft. Softer than I remembered. I traced the curve of her spine, feeling each bump of her vertebrae, mapping the landscape of her body with my fingertips.
“You feel different,” I murmured against her lips.
“I had a baby.” A note of self-consciousness crept into her voice. “My body changed.”
“I love it.” I kissed along her jaw, down to her ear. “I love every change. Every mark. Every curve she gave you.”
I slid my hands around to her stomach, pressing my palms flat against the slight softness there. She tensed under my touch.
“Don’t.” I kissed behind her ear, feeling her shiver. “Don’t hide from me. This body gave me a daughter. This body carried her and grew her and brought her into the world. There’s nothing about it that isn’t beautiful to me.”
“Stefan.”
I kissed down her throat, feeling her pulse flutter against my lips. Her head fell back, giving me access, and I took full advantage. I traced my tongue along the column of her neck, tasting salt and skin and that floral scent that clung to her.
My mouth found the hollow at the base of her throat, that sensitive dip between her collarbones. I kissed it softly, then sucked gently, feeling her body arch up into mine.
“I’ve missed you,” I murmured against her skin. “Every part of you. The way you taste. The sounds you make. The way your body moves under mine.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Her voice was already breathless. “So much, Stefan. You have no idea.”
“Tell me.” I kissed lower, pushing the neckline of her shirt aside to reach more skin. “Tell me how much.”
“I used to dream about you.” Her fingers combed through my hair as I kissed along her collarbone. “Wake up reaching for you in the middle of the night. Then I’d remember and it was like losing you all over again.”
I pulled back and looked at her face. Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes, trailing into her hair.
“Hey.” I brushed them away with my thumbs. “We’re here now. We’re together. That’s what matters.”
“I know. I just... I wasted so much time hating you. When I could have had this. Could have had you.”
“We can’t get the time back.” I turned my head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “But we have now. We have tomorrow. We have every day after that.”
“Make me feel it.” She pulled me back down. “Make me feel like we have forever.”
I kissed her again, deep and thorough. My hands found the hem of her shirt and I pulled back just long enough to drag it over her head.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
I stared at her, my mouth going dry. Her breasts were fuller than I remembered, heavier, the nipples darker. I reached out and cupped one in my palm, feeling the weight of it, and she moaned softly.
“So beautiful.” I brushed my thumb across her nipple, watching it harden under my touch. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Lay.”
I lowered my mouth to her breast and took the nipple between my lips. She cried out, her back arching off the couch, her hands flying to my head.