CHAPTER THIRTY
EMMA
I watch the car disappear around the corner, the last echoes of little feet and excited chatter fading into the distance.
Silence falls over the house like a soft, warm blanket, and for the first time in months, I breathe without interruption.
The absence of tiny voices, sticky hands, and the constant demands of motherhood is almost shocking in its intensity.
I turn to Dan, who’s leaning against the doorframe, grinning like a man who’s just won the lottery.
Hannah has bravely and heroically taken all three of my kids for the entire weekend.
Hannah works alongside Freya at the school, and over the past few years they’ve become really close.
Freya has always talked about taking Theo away on a small seaside break, but as a single mum, the idea of doing it alone felt overwhelming.
She never said it outright, but I could hear the hesitation every time she mentioned it.
That’s when Hannah, in one of her moments of chaotic generosity, came up with the plan. She suggested making it a joint trip and taking my three along too. Two adults, four kids. Mum maths. Perfectly logical in theory. Slightly unhinged in practice.
They’re only a few hours away, in the nearest seaside town, nothing exotic or far-flung.
And yet, that doesn’t stop my anxiety from flaring anyway.
I keep imagining worst-case scenarios, missed trains, lost shoes, rogue seagulls, sudden illnesses.
My brain working overtime like it always does when I’m not the one in charge.
Still, I’m determined to ignore it. Or at least try to. Because for the first time in a very long while, Dan and I have an entire weekend to ourselves. No school runs. No snack negotiations. No bedtime battles. Just us.
And I plan to enjoy it.
“Can you believe it?” I murmur, almost afraid to shatter the quiet. “Two whole days… alone.”
His grin widens. “I know. I feel like I just got an entire weekend of uninterrupted happiness shoved into one perfect, tiny bubble.”
I laugh, the sound bubbling out freely. “We could…” I pause, catching myself, “…do whatever we want.”
Dan’s eyes darken, his gaze dropping to my lips before flicking back to my eyes. “We could do anything, Em,” he says, voice low, teasing. The corners of his mouth twitch with mischief, and I already know exactly where this is going.
I glance around the living room, cluttered with the usual aftermath of the morning’s chaos: socks that didn’t make it into the laundry, a lone toy car abandoned in the middle of the floor, a crumpled T-shirt that should’ve been folded yesterday.
My mind jumps ahead, imagining the sheer fun of folding laundry together, just us, laughter, maybe a little chaos, and a whole lot of stolen touches.
“Do you… want to start with the laundry?” I ask, half joking.
Dan’s eyebrow shoots up. “Laundry?”
“Yes,” I grin. “I promise it’s more fun than it sounds. We can make it… interesting.”
He studies me, smirking, and I feel a familiar thrill coil low in my stomach. “Interesting?” he repeats slowly, voice teasing. “I’m intrigued.”
I grab the overflowing basket from the hallway, and Dan follows with his own load.
The smell of detergent and fabric softener fills the air.
My hands brush against his as we pile everything onto the living room rug, and I catch the way his chest swells, that quiet, steady heat that makes my pulse jump.
I start folding the first towel, careful to keep my movements deliberate, teasingly slow. Dan hovers beside me, peering over my shoulder, and I feel the heat from his body pressing just close enough to make me shift on my feet.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, “if you fold that well enough, I might treat you…”
I freeze mid-fold, glancing at him. He’s smirking, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “Treat me?” I ask innocently.
“A special treat just for you” he says, in a deep and irresistible tone.
I bite my lip, reaching for a pair of socks, pretending to concentrate on folding them. But I feel his gaze on me, hot and insistent, and I can’t help the subtle sway of my hips, the way my fingers linger a little too long on the soft fabric.
The first sock falls from my hands, unnoticed, and Dan’s hand hovers, catching it before it hits the floor. His thumb brushes mine, lingering just long enough for a spark to jump.
“You know,” I murmur, voice soft and teasing, “we could just… fold this together. Make it a team effort.”
Dan’s smirk widens. “Team effort?” He kneels down next to the pile, tugging me toward him with a playful, deliberate motion. “I think I can manage team effort.”
Before I know it, we’re sitting side by side on the carpet, the clean laundry forming a soft, wobbly cushion beneath us. Socks, T-shirts, and towels spill over, a chaotic mountain of domestic order. I shift closer, letting my leg brush against his, and he matches the movement instinctively.
I catch the glint in his eye, the one that says he’s thinking exactly the same thing I am, and the world shrinks until it’s just us, the scent of detergent, and the delicious tension coiling between our bodies.
I reach for a towel, pretending to fold it, but my hands linger over his thighs instead. He doesn’t flinch; instead, he lets his fingers trail along the edge of my wrist, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down my spine.
“You’re testing me, Em,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
“Am I?” I whisper back, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, just below the ear. “Or am I… just trying to help?”
His hands slide over my waist, pulling me flush against him.
The warmth of his body, the soft, pliable pile of laundry beneath us, the chaos of socks and towels; it’s intoxicating.
My hands wander, exploring the lines of his chest through his T-shirt, and I can hear the sharp intake of breath he tries to hide.
I tug him closer, letting my lips ghost over his neck. “We really are a team, aren’t we?” I murmur.
“The best team,” he groans, his hands tightening around my hips, making the pile of clean laundry wobble beneath us. “I’m not sure if we should be folding anymore…”
I laugh, breathless, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Maybe… we should leave that for later.”
And with that, the neat pile of laundry transforms into a chaotic playground. Towels tumble to the floor, socks get tossed aside, and T-shirts bunch up beneath us as Dan captures my lips in a heated, hungry kiss.
Every movement, every touch, every laugh and gasp melds together. The clean laundry becomes tangled and domestic order gives way to passionate chaos, and for the first time in months, the pressures of parenthood feel miles away.
I arch into him, feeling the soft fabric shift beneath our bodies, the subtle scent of detergent mixing with the warmth of skin and the unmistakable heat of desire. Dan’s hands roam freely, exploring my curves deliciously.
“You like being… surrounded by chaos, don’t you?” he teases, lips trailing down my shoulder.
“I do,” I admit, voice trembling. “Especially if you’re… in the middle of it with me.”
We collapse into lust, rolling across the pile of laundry, every folded towel and neatly stacked shirt becoming part of our improvised bed. Socks twine around our legs, a dressing gown tumbles over the edge, and I can’t stop giggling at the absurdity of it. It’s messy, chaotic, and utterly perfect.
“I think we’ve ruined the laundry,” I gasp between kisses.
Dan groans against my mouth, the sound low and rough. “I don’t think it’s clean anymore. But you’re worth it.”
I bite his lower lip playfully. “That’s convenient for you.”
“Extremely,” he murmurs, pressing his body flush against mine. His hands explore the curves of my back and hips,
I tug at his waistband, letting the fabric of his trousers stretch beneath my fingers. “You’re very… distracting,” I whisper.
“Good,” he groans, nipping at my earlobe. “I am supposed to be.”
His eyes darken as he leans down, lips tracing the line of my jaw, neck, and collarbone, sending shivers through every nerve ending.
“Team effort,” he murmurs against my skin, voice rough, teasing. “Folding laundry together has become sexy”
I arch against him, tugging him closer. “We’re… exceptional at it,” I breathe, letting the words hang between us, laced with double meaning.
He chuckles, the sound low and husky, and his hands tighten around my waist. “Exceptional indeed.”
I wrap my legs around him instinctively as he presses his body against mine.
Dan leans back slightly, his hand slipping beneath my t-shirt, fingertips brushing against skin that’s already heating under his touch. I gasp, arching, and he groans, dragging his mouth back to mine in a desperate, consuming kiss.
“Fuck you’re amazing Em,” he murmurs, his bottom lip dragging along my shoulder. “I could spend all night just… touching you.”
“Maybe you should,” I whisper, voice trembling slightly, breath uneven. I tug him closer, letting the fabric of his t-shirt bunch in my hands.
He smiles, dark and wicked, and suddenly he’s shifting us, manoeuvring me so I’m lying on my back. He hovers above me, slowly removing his clothes, so slowly that I could scream and tell him to hurry up.
His broad shoulders taper down to a lean, powerful torso. Every line on his body seems to be carved perfectly, the muscles gently shifting as he breathes. My eyes follow the dip of his abdomen, that deep, defined V that disappeared into shadow. I want him to take me right now.
He leans in and gives me a peck. But it’s not a peck like a peck goodbye or a simple moment of affection. It’s a long, lingering peck with more heat and passion in it than any other peck I’ve ever had.
He then slowly removes my trousers and underwear and pulls me up to sitting to remove my top revealing my full self to him.
“You’re… incredible,” he breathes, voice thick with need. “I’m so lucky.”