Chapter Thirty-Eight
Atlas
Wendy and I are still technically separated.
But, after last night—after waking up in our bed, in our home, wrapped around my wife—I want to move back in here more than anything.
Last night, after Wendy rode me until we both came, we laid boneless until the sticky feeling of our skin became too uncomfortable.
I carried my wife into the shower, where she allowed me to clean and worship her gorgeous body. I used her favorite body wash and gently washed her.
I took her shampoo and tipped her head under the spray before gently scrubbing and massaging her scalp until she was purring.
I even washed her face for her and kissed every single freckle like I was committing them to memory again.
Wendy's eyes were shimmering when she looked at me after, and I could feel my own welling up in response.
For some reason, cleaning and caring for her like that felt even more intimate than the mind blowing sex we just had.
I gently dried her body and hair with a towel, then wrapped her in her plush robe. She brushed her teeth, grabbing an extra one out of the linen closet.
I didn't want to read too much into it when she handed it to me, but my chest still tightened with hope. It's kind of funny to miss something so mundane as brushing my teeth side by side with my wife.
We didn't even speak once, just moved in sync with each other, as we have for two decades.
I hesitated for only a second when we walked back into the bedroom, ready to locate my clothes, pull them on, and head back to my parents.
But Wendy had just shaken her head, caught my hand, and pulled me to the bed.
We crawled into our normal spots like no time had passed. Her back pressed against my front, my arms wrapped fully around her, my head nestled in her neck as we shared a pillow, our fingers, legs, and toes tangled together.
The last thing I remember was murmuring that I loved her before I was out like a light.
It was the best night of sleep I've gotten, maybe ever.
No nightmares, no fear, just me and my wife.
When I woke up, Wendy was still sleeping.
Hungry, and not for food, I gently maneuvered myself down the bed for my morning breakfast feast. Wendy woke up, moaning, her hands tangled in my hair as she rocked her hips against my face and came so sweetly.
"Morning, baby," I growled into her pussy, before kissing my way back up her and fucking her gently, with long, lazy strokes.
We took our time as the sun slowly rose, no rush, nowhere to be, just here with each other.
In the aftermath, we lay cuddled together with my fingers twirling in her red locks, while she burrows into my chest like an adorable little kitten.
She peeks at the digital clock on my side of the bed and hums.
"Taylor should be bringing the boys back soon," Wendy murmurs into my chest, her fingers tracing the tattoo of her name. I press a lingering kiss to her head and breathe in her scent.
The words are bittersweet.
I'm excited to see my sons, but also a little sad that this perfection is coming to an end. Well, maybe I can stretch it a little longer, especially since she doesn't seem eager for me to leave.
"Are you hungry?"
She nods, sitting up and stretching. My eyes trail down her form, drinking her in as she stands from the bed naked. She catches my look and smiles, taking her time while walking to grab her robe from the hook and pull it around her.
"You're so beautiful," I can't help but say and her smile widens as she secures her robe and walks over to me. I pull her into my arms and kiss her deeply, saying against her lips, "Take your time. Come downstairs when you're ready."
Wendy looks curious, but nods, heading toward the bathroom.
I know I had some clothes in the hamper when I left that night, nothing I needed so I wonder if they’re still here.
I open the dresser drawer and find a couple of my white undershirts still there.
In the bottom drawer are a couple of pairs of my sweatpants, so I pull them on before heading downstairs, hearing the shower turn on.
As I walk into the kitchen, I take in the house's peaceful stillness. Sunlight slants through the sheer curtains, casting the kitchen in a warm glow.
The kitchen is clean, as always, and organized, so I can easily find the waffle iron and pancake mix. I grab the butter and eggs from the fridge, and lay the spread on the counter.
Alright, round two, I can do this.
I'm cracking eggs into a bowl to whisk when the front door opens, and I hear the pitter-patter of running steps.
I smile, "Noah, in here."
"Daddy?" I hear his voice, a mix of surprise and excitement. I parked in my spot in the garage last night, so he must have thought I left. He sprints around the corner and into the kitchen, skidding to a stop when he sees me. "Daddy!"
I open my arms just in time for him to rocket into them. "There's my boy!"
"I didn't know you were going to be here," Noah says, smiling up at me. "Are you moving back?"
The hope in Noah's question hits me hard, but the answer is not up to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam and Taylor walking into the kitchen, their faces curious for my answer.
I press a kiss to Noah's head, "Not yet. We'll talk about that with your Mama—hey, you want to help me make breakfast for her?"
Subject changed, Noah's eyes light up. "Yeah!"
Liam's already moving to grab a pan from the drawer, placing it on the stove as Noah grabs his step stool to help him. Taylor walks over to lean against the counter next to me.
"How were they?"
"Perfect little angels, as always," Taylor smirks. "Well, I don't think you went back to your parents, so it seems you guys had some very good alone time."
Not even able to help it, I smile and shrug my shoulders which makes her laugh. She walks over to the boys to drop a kiss on each of their heads.
"Alright, I'm out of here. I've got my own breakfast date."
"With Coach Trey," Noah teases, the little tattle-tale. Taylor's eyes narrow, but he and Liam just burst out laughing.
I have to hide my smile when she turns her glare on me.
"So... Coach Trey, huh?" I can't help but ask as I walk her to the front door.
"We're hanging out," she shrugs, shooting me a look to not ask anymore.
"He's a good guy," I comment, before adding. "Really good family."
"I know," she nods with a really happy grin, then she looks at me for a long moment. "Last night seemed to go well for you guys."
I grin, shameless. "It did."
"Good," Taylor smiles, before heading out the front door. "Tell Wendy I'll text her later."
"Drive safe," I say, which she acknowledges with a wave over her shoulder.
Once she's gone, I walk back into the kitchen where Liam's working on the eggs and Noah's keeping his eyes locked on the waffle iron.
Liam must have turned the speaker on, because music is playing softly from it. Smiling at the sight and the feelings coursing through me, I start the coffee and grab fruit to chop up.
I'm pouring Wendy her coffee when I hear her footsteps on the stairs, and Liam's placing the plate of eggs on the table while Noah carries over the sky-high plate of waffles.
The flowers I gave Wendy last night sit in the middle of the table, cheerful and happy, and I place our coffees near our plates just as my wife walks into the kitchen.
She's wearing her normal weekend clothes—a Mercy Ridge hoodie, leggings, and socks on her feet.
Noah sees her and barrels over for a hug, which she accepts with a big smile. The sight of them makes my heart melt, and Wendy presses a kiss to his head.
"What is this?" Wendy asks, her voice delighted.
Liam and I share a pleased smile.
"Mama, we made you breakfast!"
She gasps, "You did?"
"Come sit," Noah says, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the table, where Liam is waiting with her chair pulled out.
As she sits, I place a glass of orange juice next to her coffee. Noah rushes to grab the bowl of fruit and places it on the table, too, and Wendy takes in the feast in front of her.
"And to what do I owe this queen treatment?"
"Not a damn thing," I say, gesturing for the boys to sit in their seats across from us. "This is your new normal, get used to it."
Her face melts, and she smiles, tilting her chin up. I lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips.
Noah snickers, "That's what Liam was doing to Birdie yesterday!"
"Shut up, Noah!" Liam snaps, throwing a napkin at his laughing brother. Wendy goes to correct them, but I jump in first, needing to do this.
"Noah, stop being a tattle-tale," I tell my youngest, who looks chagrined as he nods. I then turn to my glowering oldest. "Liam, don't throw things and tell your brother to shut up."
Liam looks at me for a long, stubborn moment before he nods his head.
I then ask, "Are you sorry?"
Liam nods and turns to his brother, ruffling his hair. "Sorry, Noah."
"Sorry, Liam," Noah replies, and Liam smiles.
Wendy just watches me, not relieved or surprised, just taking note, though there's a small smile curving her lips.
My wife has always been the disciplinarian in our parenting—because, again, I thought she was more competent than I was—so I could just be the fun parent. No more.
These are my kids. This is parenthood. This is a partnership.
She reaches for my hand, and I grab it, placing a kiss on the soft skin.
No more words need to be said, and we all dig into breakfast.
As a family, once again.