Chapter 30
Luna
I hear Isaac making exaggerated monster noises at Amelie while she shrieks with laughter. He is coaxing her to say Dada as if she is a baby genius with, as he puts it, ‘your brains and my looks’.
He physically took her from me an hour ago.
“Go,” he’d ordered, steering me towards the stairs. “The anticipation is killing me.”
“Isaac, we have two hours to go. I barely take fifteen minutes to dress up.”
“That’s fifteen minutes too long, love.” He groaned like a drama queen. “Cruel and unusual punishment has become your speciality.”
So, I took a little longer than necessary with my make-up. The mirror tells me it was worth it, and I believe it.
By the time I come downstairs, Isaac is standing in the hallway bouncing Amelie lightly against his shoulder.
He looks up when he hears my heels on the wooden stairs, and suddenly, it's just the two of us. As I come closer, I notice there is only a rim of blue left, his pupils blown wide.
His mouth has actually fallen open a little. I stop halfway down the stairs and strike a goofy pose.
“What?”
Amelie starts getting restless when her dad stops entertaining her.
“You’re both drooling now,” I inform him as I come closer. “Need a bib?”
“That dress … It’s perfect.”
I watch as his throat bobs. I snort despite the heat climbing my neck.
He shifts an annoyed Amelie automatically, but keeps staring at me a little like the first time we went on a date.
“You look …” He exhales sharply. “Jaysus, Luna. How about we ditch the dinner plans and book a room at The Farmhouse?”
A warm sensation unfurls low in my stomach as I take in his pale lilac dress shirt and formal pants that fit him so well. I slide closer and reach up to brush my lips against his in a featherlight touch. He takes it a step further by sliding his tongue into mine and stealing my breath away.
The doorbell rings as we teeter at the edge of forgetting our date and attacking each other in full view of our poor, beleaguered four-month-old baby.
A hesitant Manon stands at the doorstep with Kel beside her, carrying what looks like enough emergency baby supplies to survive a small apocalypse.
The atmosphere switches from sexy to awkward in the blink of an eye.
Manon looks elegant as always, though I notice the nervous tic of her left eyelid. It is her tell.
Kel smiles first, thankfully breaking the tension.
“Well,” he says brightly, looking between us, “don’t you two look disgustingly attractive? Though I don’t think that shade of lipstick suits you, Isaac.”
Isaac groans. “Please don’t say that in front of my mother.”
“Like we don’t know why we have been twiddling our fingers and toes for the last ten minutes at your doorstep, waiting for you both to break it up,” he replies.
I laugh softly, and some of the tension eases. Kel has never been much of a talker, so this is a surprise.
Manon’s eyes move over the changes in me, taking in the dress and the make-up. I don’t imagine the relief that flickers across her face. It is here as she takes in the transition from haggard to relaxed, pampered mum.
“You look beautiful, Luna,” she says, and her tone is sincere.
“Thank you.”
Another tiny awkward pause follows, broken easily when Amelie lets out a little squeak. My little girl knows all about breaking the ice and good timing.
They both move at the same time towards Amelie and awkwardly bump elbows.
Kel snorts loudly after getting there first.
“My grandbaby loves Grandpa best, don’t you, Cupcake?” he says as she babbles up at him. “You both better get going.”
That breaks the rest of the tension. I leave them with their talk about Kel’s car making funny noises and walk Manon through the bottles of expressed milk and bedtime, even though she clearly knows how to care for my baby.
She, however, doesn’t object, and listens carefully.
The old Manon would have brushed it aside, letting me know she knew what to do.
I think she understands that this isn’t really about instructions—it’s about trust. A first step in the long walk there.
When we finally leave, Isaac keeps glancing back at the house like he can’t quite believe this is happening.
“You okay?” I ask as we get into the car.
He looks at me for a second, then smiles slowly.
“Yeah,” he says. “I think I am. I am just feeling strange without Amelie, you know?”
I know exactly what he means.
***
It has been the three of us together for so long that it feels like something is missing. It feels like we don’t exist without Amelie. But the drive into town feels strangely intimate.
Isaac turns the volume down for the 90s station, which is the only one we listen to. I watch as streetlights slide golden lines across the dashboard. Isaac keeps one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting loosely on my thigh.
I feel the warmth seep through the thin fabric of my dress. Every now and then, his thumb strokes absently against me at red lights.
The restaurant glows warm against the dark evening when we arrive.
Soft golden light spills across the marina water outside, reflections dancing against sleek boats tied along the docks. The smells of garlic butter, grilled seafood, smoked paprika, and fresh bread drift into the street like a siren’s song. Low music hums beneath the clink of glasses.
Isaac parks the car and comes around to open my door before I can do it myself.
“Such a gentleman.” I tease.
“I’m trying to seduce my wife,” he admits.
I arch a brow. “The way to a woman’s heart, huh?”
“Carbs and foot rubs. I’ve done my research.”
“That might just work.”
His grin flashes quick and bright as he pulls me close and tucks me into him.
***
The food is delicious.
Somewhere between the patatas bravas and the grilled seafood platter dripping in garlic butter, it starts to feel like the old days again.
Effortless, like it has always been between us.
I slip my foot out of my shoe and let it climb slowly up his pant leg before sliding it down.
The way he startles is gratifying and enough for me to aim … higher.
We end up laughing more than eating at some points, enjoying the simmering tension.
Isaac insists on ordering “for the table”, and it fills up with all my favourites.
“You haven’t changed,” I tell him when he steals a calamari ring from my plate.
“That’s not true,” he says seriously, popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I’ve evolved to understand that you would like me to make takeout decisions.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I also know how to load the dishwasher and to find your clit without a map. And while we are on the topic, do you have panties on?”
I snort wine through my nose and refuse to answer.
The conversation drifts back to Amelie, the centre of our universe.
“She is loving tummy time,” Isaac says proudly.
“I think she might roll over any d day now.”
He points a finger at me. “She is pretty amazing.”
“She’s definitely ahead on a few things.”
“That’s because she’s a genius like me. She has my looks and my brains.”
I roll my eyes. “She gets that from me.”
“Absolutely not.”
We grin at each other. Isaac lowers his voice. “The rash on her bum looks much better.”
“It does.”
We’ve both spent an embarrassing amount of time inspecting it over the last week.
“The banana was a mistake, though.”
I groan immediately.
“Oh, God. The poop stank …”
Isaac starts giggling.
“One spoonful is all I gave her. One tiny spoonful.”
“The nappy didn’t stand a chance. Did you see the way it rode up all the way into her hair??”
“It was basically a bioweapon going off. Apocalypse situation.”
We both dissolve into laughter. Then I shake my head.
“Do you realise how obsessed we’ve become with things coming out of her body?”
Isaac looks thoughtful.
“We discuss her bowel movements daily, don’t we? What is happening to us?” He groans.
“And her farts. Don’t forget her farts …”
“The farts are genuinely impressive.”
“We celebrate normal poops and analyse abnormal poops.”
“We compare poops. This is the story of our lives.”
There’s a horrified pause, then we both start laughing again.
“Oh my god,” I say. “This is who we are now.”
Isaac raises his glass.
“To Amelie.”
“To Amelie.”
He clinks his glass against mine.
“The tiny human whose bodily functions now dominate 80 percent of our conversations.”
And neither of us is embarrassed about it. We just feel blessed to have her and this.
When my dessert of strawberry pavlova is placed in front of me, Isaac slides into the booth beside me. Close enough that our thighs stay pressed together beneath the table.
“So, you can take bites of mine,” he explains while sliding his sticky toffee pudding closer.
Every time he shifts, his arm brushes lightly against the side of my breast. It is just enough that I become hyperaware of everything about him. He smells like his citrusy aftershave, and I can’t help but turn to take a whiff of his neck.
Everything about him feels perfect today. His warmth, the solid weight of his thigh against mine, the clean smell of soap and cologne every time he leans closer to steal a bite from my plate.
“You have your own dessert,” I point out as he shamelessly steals a bite.
“Tastes better off your plate.”
“That’s scientifically untrue.”
“I don’t mind asking for a box and then licking it off you,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows while one hand travels up my thigh and just under the edge of my thong.
“Isaac …” I gasp, but he is distracted. Under the cover of the tablecloth, his finger is tracing my outer lips, testing how wet I am. I gasp as he unerringly finds my clit and gently tracings circles.
“Isaac … someone will see.” I gasp in his ear, sure that everyone knows.
“Just keep doing what you are doing, love,” he says, taking a sip of water while his finger keeps at it, teasing, moving gently until I am ready to climb onto his lap and get arrested for public obscenity.
His gaze drops straight down the front of my dress.
“My eyes are up here, Marlowe.” I try to insert some control into my voice, but it is a losing battle as a firm brush has me gasping.
“Yeah,” he says immediately, before dragging slowly back upwards to meet my eyes.
No shame there whatsoever.
“But they’re sooooo … distracting.”
Heat rushes straight into my face. I can feel the blush climb from my neck and over my cheeks.
“Oh my god.”
“It’s not my fault,” he says calmly, taking another sip of wine. “You turned up dressed like you wanted me to do this. And you are not really putting in any effort to stop me, love.”
I laugh before I choke when he probes my opening with his middle finger.
“You’re unbelievable. We need to stop.”
“No … Not until I say so,” he says with a gleam in his eyes. He leans closer, lowering his voice slightly. “Do you know how hard I’m working to behave right now?”
“Are you? This is what you call behaving?”
“Luna,” he says solemnly as his finger moves deeper, “I deserve a medal. I am a poster boy for the choir.”
I snort loudly enough that the couple at the next table glance over.
Isaac looks deeply pleased with himself as he continues to drive me crazy.
Then he withdraws his hand. He brushes his thumb lightly against my knee beneath the table before bringing it to his mouth and licking it.
“I missed this,” he says. “Just the perfect way to end a meal.”
The warmth curling between us has nothing to do with obligation or even sex. There is frustration, but also—
Suddenly, I understand what Sandra meant.
Intimacy isn’t only physical.
Sometimes, it’s this wordless connection.
His hand finds mine beneath the table without either of us mentioning it.
Isaac looks at me like he still can’t quite believe I’m here beside him. I don’t feel like I’m trying to get back to who we used to be. I think maybe … we’re becoming something new instead. Something better.
He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “Let’s go. You are sitting on my hand so I can finger you all the way home.”