Chapter thirty-six
Emma's Cottage, Aviemore
Damon
Emma appears at the front door with her suitcase.
It’s silver with pink stars splattered all over it.
The seams strain at the edges as if about to burst.
She returns inside the cottage as I walk across the driveway to collect her case.
As I’m sliding it into the storage compartment at the back of the RV, she comes up behind me with a smaller case identical to the first.
I turn to take it from her as she flashes me a wide smile.
“Ready to go home, Spitfire?” I ask, and she nods enthusiastically.
Annie shrieks, and we both look in her direction as she plays on the grass near the RV.
At one and a half years old, she is getting braver each day.
She’s sitting, pulling daisies from the ground, grabbing them in her hands and staring as if mesmerized.
My focus returns to Emma; she’s still watching my little girl. Our little girl.
When I look between them, there’s no doubt who her mother is.
The similarities are breathtaking—they even have the same dazzling smile.
My acceptance of Emma being Annie’s mother has been hard, but I realize now that it isn’t the dismissal of Connie I thought it was.
If my late wife hadn’t so desperately wanted a child, Emma and I may never have met and my second chance would never have happened.
For that I will always be grateful to the special woman that was taken from me.
Last night, Emma and I discussed at great length how Connie’s memory would be included in Annie’s life. We both agreed that it’s important she is known to our little girl. Our family wasn’t created with a standard boy-meets-girl setup, but then again, how many are?
“I could be Ma-ma, and Connie can be Mum,” Emma suggested as we sat at the kitchen table in the cottage drinking a glass of wine.
“Without Connie, Annie would never have been created, and I love her for that. I gained a family when she lost hers.”
She had dropped her eyes away as her cheeks flushed the soft pink I love.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” I reassured her, reaching for her hands across the table. “Connie would be honored you chose to care for her family with her gone. I realize now I was looking at this all wrong.”
“In what way?” she queried, blinking up through long lashes.
“Tragedy happens in life daily. What happened to Connie was only the fault of the person who pulled the trigger. Not mine.”
I paused to take a breath, giving myself time to assess Emma’s face to ensure my words were coming across correctly.
Her expression was calm but intrigued, so I continued.
“Once I forgave myself for her death, I was able to see what I wanted instead of being consumed by guilt all the time. And I was able to accept that it was her that had made this all possible.”
“What was it you wanted?” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“You,” I told her simply. “I want a family and life with you.”
Now we’re packing up the RV to make the long, nine-hour trip back to London.
When I arrived here three months ago, hellbent on winning her back, I said I would wait as long as it took to speak to her properly about our future.
With one week left before we were forced to return due to her job, we finally crossed the line and decided to try again.
Up until that night, I hadn’t been sure if she would give us another chance together. I am so thankful she did.
“Are you sure you have everything?” I ask Emma.
“Because once we’re on the road, I’m not turning around.”
She’s standing behind me as I pack more belongings into the RV storage space.
Gentle fingers glide over my back, down to my ass, then between my legs as I’m bent over with my head inside the compartment.
She cups my balls through my jeans, and my cock hardens.
“Yes,” she murmurs, “I have everything I need.”
“Fucking tease.”
“I’m not teasing, this is a promise.”
“A nine-hour drive will be a long wait on a promise,” I say as I step backward then straighten to close the compartment door.
When I turn to face her, she wraps her arms around my neck and rises up on her toes to peck my lips.
My hands move to her ass to hold her against me, I flex my hips so my dick presses against her stomach.
“Hmm…it is going to be a long nine hours,” she agrees, kissing me again. “We better get moving so I can keep my promise.” I chuckle, then drop a kiss onto her forehead.
“Let’s go home, Spitfire.”
After releasing her, I walk over to collect Annie from where she’s now digging in the ground with a small spoon. Picking her up, I return to the RV to wash her hands and buckle her into her car seat. As I am getting to the driver’s side, Emma climbs into the passenger seat.
“The house is locked up, and I posted the keys through the letterbox like they asked,” she says as she fastens her seatbelt. “Start this baby up, I want to go home.”
“That sounds amazing on your lips,” I tell her.
“What does?”
“You referring to our house as home.”
***
By the time we arrive outside the house, it’s the middle of the night.
The drive was long to do in one day, and we stopped several times, but we all wanted to be home.
I switch off the RV, then move into the back to collect Annie.
Emma is snoozing in the passenger seat. Her eyelids flutter open as she becomes aware we aren’t moving anymore.
“Are we home?” she murmurs.
“Sure are,” I say from behind her before leaving out of the side door.
I stop at the passenger side to open her door, then offer Emma my free hand.
She takes it, and climbs down from her seat.
After locking up the RV, with Annie on my hip and Emma holding my other hand, we walk up the front path to the house.
The lights are already on in preparation for our arrival. Mrs. D would have come past this evening when she heard we were returning. After opening the door, we step inside, and Emma follows me in over the threshold. I turn to face her and cup her cheek in my palm.
“There’s something I want to show you,” I say. “Let me put Annie to bed, then I’ll come back to get you.”
“I’ll pour us some wine, if there is any?” she suggests.
“Mrs. D has been looking after the place,” I reply with a chuckle. “What do you think?”
“The fridge will be better stocked than a supermarket.” She strokes Annie’s cheek with a gentle finger. “Goodnight my little munchkin,” she says softly. “Ma-ma loves you.” Then she walks off in the direction of the kitchen.
I watch her disappear from view, enjoying the reality of having her back here with me in my home. Once she’s gone, I climb the stairs with a still sleeping Annie in my arms. After changing her, I place Annie down in her crib then return downstairs.
I find Emma in the kitchen with two glasses of wine poured. She walks toward me, offering one. I take it then lift the glass to my lips; she does the same, closing her eyes as the crisp taste hits her tongue. When we both lower our drinks, we stand, staring at each other, neither of us speaking.
“Come with me,” I say at last, taking her hand and leading her out of the room then upstairs.
She follows me, not asking any questions, but I hear her breathing deepen slightly.
She hesitates when we turn toward the master bedroom and not the spare at the top of the stairs.
I stop outside the door, take her wine glass, and place both our remaining drinks on a side table in the hall.
“Damon…”
“Yes, Spitfire.”
“What is it you want to show me?”
I push open the master bedroom door instead of answering, her inside.
We stand in the middle of the empty room with the floor covered in dust sheets.
The wallpaper has been stripped and the walls prepared for painting.
On the floor, waiting for Emma’s attention, are paint samples and fabric swatches.
“The lady of the house should stay in the master bedroom,” I say quietly.
“The designer has some plans here.” I bend down and collect one of the fabric books—inside are mood boards created for the room.
“I gave her some ideas, but ultimately this is your decision. I want you to create a haven for us in our home here.”
Emma stares at me; she looks shocked. Her fingers rise to her lips as a tear trickles down her cheek. She takes the fabric book from me then starts to flick through the designs and samples.
“What do you think?” I prompt, nervous she hasn’t said anything. She closes the book then places it back on the floor. Her body moves toward mine, and she reaches up, caressing my face in her hands. Her bright blue eyes hold mine fast, and I can’t move, waiting to hear what she has to say.
“I think it is time we christened our new bedroom,” she whispers sexily, then her lips lock onto my mouth.
Greedy hands pull me toward her as her tongue dances with mine.
I close my eyes, enjoying the moment when she takes control.
Nimble fingers unbutton the white summer shirt I’m wearing then slip it from my shoulders.
It falls to the floor, and her hands move to the waistband of my jeans.
She unbuttons then lowers the zipper before sliding them down over my ass.
I step out of them then remove my socks.
I stand in front of her wearing only my boxers, my dick straining against the material.
She takes two steps back, her hungry eyes run up and down my body.
Her arms cross over then grab the hem of the simple pink t-shirt she wears, and she lifts it over her head.
She starts to walk in a circle around me, placing one finger on the skin at my waist and trailing it slowly as she moves.
After one full rotation, she stops behind me and slides her hands around into my boxers.
Warm lips touch the skin on my back as her fingers play with my cock, holding my length firm.
“Fuck, Spitfire. You know how to make me happy.” She giggles and lays her head against my spine, all while stroking my cock. Deft fingers drop to my balls as she continues. “Don’t make me too happy, you’ll lose out.”
“We can’t have that,” she says, releasing me. She returns to stand at my front and removes her own jeans and socks, so she is left wearing only her pink lace bra and thong. I step toward her and take her chin between my fingers, tilting her head upwards.
“My turn to be in charge,” I tell her, my free hand moving to sit on her crotch over her underwear.