Isabella
The house was quiet. Luke had work. Amber and Zach had gone into town to do some shopping and catch an exhibit. I was glad they had each other. Things might have gotten a little rocky, but Zach was back, and Amber had her big brother to look up to again.
I spotted another smear on the window and squirted it with the spray before vigorously wiping it away with the cloth.
It was so strange—it felt like only yesterday that Amber was eight years old, meeting Zach for the first time.
Clive and I had both been nervous, but thirteen-year-old Zach had given her a head nod and carried on doing his own thing.
We’d classed that as a success at the time and cracked open a bottle of wine to celebrate.
I smiled, though part of me still missed them as children.
Which brought me back to Luke and his now-apparent attempts to impregnate me. I could tell him I knew exactly what he was doing, but he seemed so pleased with himself. Like a man on a secret mission.
I chuckled, continuing to polish the glass.
Plus, he talked in his sleep.
Who thought of cervical mucus in their sleep?
This was my last chance to be a mother again, and the way Luke cared for us was a good indication of what kind of father he’d become.
A baby might bring Zach home a little more often. Amber would love anything—the girl still talked to bugs when we did the garden.
Hm. I should have gotten her a pet as a child, but it would’ve required someone home to care for it. I was at work, and Amber had school. I’d only had the bandwidth for Amber, my job, and looking after the house back then.
I moved to the patio doors next, spraying a fresh mist across the glass, sunlight catching the droplets before they slid down in slow, silvery trails. The garden beyond looked bare and frost-bitten, the last of the winter light thin and pale against the lawn.
Luke’s teasing smile flashed in my mind. I loved his thick, grey hair, long enough for me to toy with, tufts of darkness threading through it. The way he looked at me with those dark eyes—so intense, so focused. Even when he came, he kept his eyes on me.
Probably willing his seed to succeed.
I began to chortle, the sound echoing faintly off the glass as I wiped the last streak away.
Rhea would never believe me.
? ? ?
At the cusp of the New Year, we were all in the kitchen while I decided which dessert to whisk up. The children were helping with the prep work.
I glanced at Amber.
The surprise breakup with Nolan had come out of nowhere, but the way Zach and Amber were playing around, she didn’t seem too upset about it. Luke hadn’t been very impressed either, referring to the poor boy as Gollum ever since.
I flicked through the cookbook. Perhaps a simple apple pie and vanilla custard, to help bring in the new year. It was a favourite of Amber’s and Zach’s both.
“Hello, everyone.”
My head snapped up, and I saw Luke standing in the kitchen doorway, a bottle of bubbly in hand. I abandoned my cookbook as he began closing the distance between us. I met him halfway.
“Hello, poppet,” he said, before his gaze landed on Zach. “Hello, son.”
He really was too much. He reminded me of Rhea, in a way—always picking and prodding at people, finding someone’s wound and toying with the scab until they’d blabbed their whole life story to him. That was how our own love story had started, if I was honest.
“I brought some champagne,” he murmured, his eyes landing on my lips.
I shouldn’t. But I did.
He lowered his lips to mine, and I caught the scent of his cologne. Our kiss deepened, and I clung to his suit jacket. That familiar slow burn began low in my belly, and I nearly rubbed my thighs together right there in the kitchen.
The kids were in the room, though, so it stayed firmly PG.
He pulled back, breaking the kiss, his lips still slightly wet.
“Miss me?” he asked.
“You know I did.”
He smiled and slid the champagne into the fridge to chill, then shrugged off his jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair.
“What can I do to help?”
I handed him the potato peeler and a bowl of apples.
Christmas and New Year’s with my family.
The warmth in my kitchen had doubled this year.
? ? ?
“Does it feel strange, seeing Amber drink?” Luke asked, holding the blanket up for me.
I settled on the couch beside him and considered the question.
“No. She could have gone off and done so many things in her teen years, but she didn’t. Half a glass of champagne was fine.”
“Hm. I hope she stays this way once she’s at university.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m really worried about,” I said.
“Didn’t you give her half a million talks on contraception and STDs?” he asked, chuckling as he put his arm around me.
I glanced up at him.
“Says the man who’s allergic to condoms.”
His head snapped toward me, his body stiffening against mine.
“I’m clean. You’re clean. I absolutely refuse to have anything between us.
The feel of your soft pussy and all that lube it produces,” he said, before sliding his hand past my waistband to settle between my thighs.
His fingers moved slowly along me, teasing.
It wasn’t enough, muffled through the fabric of my knickers. “That muted feel isn’t for me.”
His fingers slipped beneath the material. He nudged my foot to the floor so I could spread my thighs.
I gasped as his fingers began to rub me—small circles first, then up and down, brushing against my clit every so often.
“Feel the difference, Bella?”
I reached beneath the blanket to reciprocate.
He’d made his point.