26. Freya
— ? —
Freya
We could hear the band through the window, and neither of us cared.
Rex closed the bedroom door behind us, and the sounds of the party faded to a distant murmur. The late afternoon light slanted through the curtains, painting everything in shades of gold. Outside, a hundred people were drinking champagne and eating canapés on our lawn.
Inside, there was only him.
“Come here,” he said, his voice rough.
I went.
He kissed me slowly, thoroughly, his hands framing my face like I was something precious. I could feel the restraint in him, the careful way he held himself back even as his body pressed against mine.
“Wait,” I said against his mouth. “There’s something I need to do first.”
He pulled back, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”
I crossed to his nightstand and pulled open the drawer. The manila envelope was right where I knew it would be. Where it had been for weeks, unsigned and waiting. I pulled it out and held it up.
“The divorce papers,” I said.
Rex’s expression shuttered. “Freya-”
“Shh.” I walked back to him, the envelope in my hands. “I need to do this.”
And then I tore it in half.
The sound of ripping paper filled the room. I tore it again, and again, until the document that would have ended our marriage was nothing but confetti scattered across the floor.
Rex was staring at me.
“It’s over,” I said, dropping the last pieces. “There’s no more divorce papers or separate rooms or rules and boundaries and keeping you at arm’s length.” I stepped over the destroyed document and into his arms. “I’m done protecting myself from you. I’m all in, Rex. Completely.”
He kissed me like he’d been given back something he thought he’d lost. One hand in my hair, the other careful at my waist, mindful of the swell between us even as his mouth turned hungry.
“Say it again,” he whispered against my lips.
“I’m all in.” I pulled his shirt free from his slacks and slid my palms up his chest, feeling his heart hammer under my hands. “I’m yours. I want you. Right now. With a hundred people on our lawn who can wait.”
“Freya.” He found the zipper of my dress and drew it down my back, slow enough that I felt every inch of cool air.
The fabric slipped off my shoulders and pooled at my feet.
His eyes dragged over me, over the lace, over the curve of my belly, and something in his face went unbearably soft.
“Look at you. Carrying our baby. Standing here telling me you’re mine.
I don’t think I have ever wanted anything more than I want you right now. ”
“Then stop looking and have me.”
He smiled against my mouth, that real one, and got the rest of my clothes off with shaking hands.
The bra first. Then the underwear, his fingers hooking in the lace, dragging it down my legs while he kissed the inside of my knee.
I worked his belt open, shoved his slacks down, and he kicked them away.
Then there was nothing left between us but heat and the late light and the torn paper on the floor.
He lowered me onto the bed like I was made of something precious. He kissed my throat, my collarbone, the top of my breast, then lower, pressing his mouth to my belly with a reverence that made my throat tight.
“I love you,” he said against my skin. “Both of you. So much it terrifies me.”
“I love you too.” The words came easy now, natural as breathing. “I love you. I love you. Now get up here before I lose my mind.”
He laughed, quiet and wrecked, and kissed his way back up. His hand slid between my thighs and he exhaled hard when he found me.
“You want me that much,” he murmured, almost wonder. “After everything. You still open for me like this.”
“I’ve wanted you since I walked through that door.” I gasped when two fingers pushed inside, curling, his thumb brushing the place that made my hips jerk. “Rex. Don’t make me wait. I need you.”
“I know what you need.” He kissed me, slow and deep, even as his fingers worked me. “I need to hear you say it. Not just that you want me. That you’re staying.”
“I’m staying.” I caught his wrist and held his gaze, because he wanted words and I was going to give them to him.
“I love you. I want you inside me. I want you to make love to your wife on this bed while the whole party wonders where we went. And I don’t want you to treat me like I’ll break just because I’m pregnant. I won’t. I just want to feel you.”
His eyes went dark. “Then you’ll feel me. All of me.”
He kissed me hard, then shifted us so I was on top, his back against the headboard, my knees bracketing his hips. His hands settled on my waist, steadying me, thumbs stroking the sides of my belly.
“You set the pace,” he said, voice low. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or her.”
“You won’t.” I reached between us, wrapped my hand around him, and sank down slow. The stretch stole my breath, full and deep and so good I had to drop my forehead to his. “Oh God. Rex. You feel like coming home.”
“That’s all I ever wanted to be.” His hands tightened on my hips. “Move when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”
I moved.
Slow at first, then less slow, rolling my hips the way I knew made him lose his mind. He swore against my mouth, then kissed me like an apology for the swearing. I took his hand and put it on my breast, and he groaned like I’d given him the world.
“Talk to me,” I whispered. “I want to hear you.”
“You’re everything.” His hips met mine, careful and deep. “My wife. The mother of my child. The woman who just tore up every way out and chose me anyway. Do you have any idea what it does to me, watching you take me like this? Watching you choose me with your whole body?”
“I choose you.” I was already shaking. “I choose this. Us. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Never.” He slid a hand between us, thumb circling, and my rhythm broke. “That’s it. Let go for me. I want to feel you come knowing I’m yours. Knowing you’re mine. Knowing none of this is temporary anymore.”
“Rex. I’m close. I’m so close.”
“I know. I can feel you.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, then my cheek, then my lips again. “Come on, Freya. I’ve got you. I love you. Come for me.”
I did. Hard enough that I had to bury my face in his neck to keep from crying out, clenching around him, holding on like I might fall apart. He followed with a sound that was almost my name, burying himself deep, one hand spread over my belly like he was holding all of us at once.
“I love you,” I said against his throat, over and over, because I could now. Because I wanted to. “I love you. I love you.”
He held me through it, shaking, his mouth in my hair.
Afterward, we lay together in the fading light, his hand resting on the swell of my belly.
“She’s going to keep us both up tonight, I can tell,” he murmured.
“She?”
“Just a feeling.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “We should probably get back to the party.”
“Probably.”
Neither of us moved.
“That was a nice party,” I said eventually. “Before we abandoned all our guests to have sex.”
“They’ll survive.” He pulled me closer, his chin resting on top of my head. “Besides, I have more important things to think about than small talk with my cousins.”
“Like what?”
He was quiet for a moment. “Pack a bag.”
I propped myself up on my elbow to look at him. “What?”
“Pack a bag. Tonight, after everyone leaves.” His eyes were bright with something I couldn’t quite read. “There’s something I’ve been waiting to show you.”
“What kind of something?”
“The kind of something you need to see to believe.” He grinned, that real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Trust me?”
“Always.”
He kissed me softly, and I settled back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Whatever came next, we’d face it together.