Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
TOBIAS
Rebecca’s eyelids flutter, and at first I think she’s rousing only to realize she’s dreaming. I’ve been watching her sleep for more than an hour, and my left arm has gone numb where she’s lying on it. I don’t care.
I’m no longer a virgin. I didn’t freak out. She didn’t freak out. It was fucking incredible.
The clock by the side of her bed ticks toward seven a.m.
Isla will probably be up soon, which means I should sneak off before she comes in here looking for her mother.
What happened between us last night was so unexpected, neither of us discussed how it might impact Isla, and I wouldn’t want her upset to see us in bed together.
She may be fine, but she may not, and until Rebecca and I have had that conversation, it seems best to avoid it.
As gently as I can, I slide my arm from beneath her head and peel back the covers. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and bend down to pick up my trousers.
“You’re leaving?”
I glance over my shoulder at my wife, all bleary eyed and mussy haired. She’s never looked more stunning.
“Isla…”
She wraps both arms around my waist and tugs me back to bed. “Will need to get used to seeing her mama and her step daddy in bed together.” She bites her lip. “Unless you’ve had second thoughts about last night.”
“God, no. It was the best night of my life.”
“Then, get back under the covers and cuddle me.”
The most ridiculous grin takes up half my face. Rebecca rolls over, and I nestle against her back, draping my arm across her waist, my palm sneaking underneath the T-shirt she slept in last night. I grip her right boob.
“You have gorgeous boobs, by the way.”
Her shoulders shake on a laugh. “Thank you.”
“I mean it. I think I might spend the rest of the day clamped onto your right breast.”
“What about the left one? It could get snarky if it’s not included.”
“Hmm. Good point.” I slide my other arm beneath her body and grip her left boob. “Better?”
“Left boob says yes.”
I press an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. “Talking boobs? We could monetize that.”
She’s openly laughing now, her entire body shaking. “Isn’t that called OnlyFans?”
“They have talking boobs on OnlyFans? I should get a subscription.” Her elbow shoots back, catching me in the ribs. “Ow. Violence on a Saturday morning, Mrs. De Vil?”
“Deserved. No subscriptions to OnlyFans.”
“Hmm, okay, but only because you asked so nicely.”
She wiggles her bottom, and my dick jumps to attention. I groan. “Please stop that.”
“Don’t you like it?” There’s a waver to her voice, an uncertainty, and it reminds me that we’re both going to trip up as we navigate our new reality.
“I love it. You have no idea how much. But it makes me want to turn you over and bury myself inside you, and Isla will be up soon.”
She sighs. “True. Maybe this afternoon when she goes down for her nap?”
“It’s a date.”
On cue, Rebecca’s bedroom door flies open, and Isla bounds inside with the energy only kids and puppies seem to have in abundance.
She climbs up onto the bed, and, as though this sight is the most normal in the world, crawls underneath the covers between Rebecca and me.
I give my wife a look over the top of Isla’s head.
Rebecca shrugs and makes a “Well, okay then” face.
“Good morning, pumpkin. How did you sleep?”
“Good. ”Isla wriggles herself into a comfortable spot, her head on my arm and her tiny palm resting on the top of Rebecca’s hand. It’s as though she’s been doing this every morning for her entire life. I stare at the crown of her messy curls, and something fierce swells in my chest.
Mine.
Not biologically. Not legally, even.
But mine in every way that matters.
Rebecca tucks the covers around Isla, her movements gentle, just as they were with me.
Last night, she put her hands on me, and I didn’t balk.
I didn’t get sick. I didn’t want to peel my skin from my body and set fire to it.
Now she’s lying beside me, her daughter tucked between us, and it’s everything I never knew I needed.
I’m not healed, and I won’t be for a long time, but I’m taking the steps I need to in order to move past what was done to me and make sure I can be the sort of husband Rebecca deserves, as well as the kind of father Isla always should have had.
Rebecca brushes a lock of hair from Isla’s forehead. “Did you have good dreams?”
Isla nods and snuggles closer… to me. Her little hand grips my bicep, and I melt.
Rebecca’s gaze flicks to mine, and her expression shifts. She knows what the moment means. For me. For us. For Isla.
This right here… this is what I never thought I’d have. A family of my own.
“Daddy, pancakes.”
The word lands somewhere ahead of how fast my brain can compute. My lungs stop pumping air and my heart stutters to a halt. I find the strength to turn my head and look at my wife.
With a smile, she mouths, “You okay?”
I can only nod. Because if I try to speak, I’ll cry.
The three of us make our way to breakfast, with Isla’s hand tucked in mine and Rebecca at my side where she belongs. Every few steps, her hand brushes against my hip like she’s checking I’m still here and I’m still okay.
Honestly, I’m doing the same thing. In a matter of a few hours, everything has changed.
It’s not just about the sex or about the fact I can stand touch, embrace it, welcome it, even.
It’s the closeness, the intimacy with another human being you’ve opened yourself up to and found the very thing you didn’t even know you needed.
Christian and Grace are already at the dining table. Grace has her head tipped back, laughing at something my brother murmured in her ear. I glance at Rebecca and a silent message passes between us. We know what that’s like because we’ve discovered it for ourselves.
Saskia sits across from them, shoveling eggs into her mouth as though she’s been told there’s a shortage and someone’s on their way to steal them. She waves a greeting, drops her fork, and downs half a glass of juice, then shoots to her feet.
“Morning. Sorry. Gotta go.”
“Great to see you, sis,” I call out as she beelines for the exit. “Thanks for the chat. Illuminating as always.”
She stops, pivots, checks Isla isn’t looking, flips me off, then strides from the room.
I chuckle, watching her go, then turn to Grace and Christian. “What is going on with her these days?”
Christian shrugs. “Beats me. I agree, though, she’s acting weird, even for Saskia.” He chuckles, earning a glower from Grace.
“Saskia is not weird.”
I chuckle, too. “Saskia is definitely weird. It’s part of her charm.” I pour a cup of coffee and one for Rebecca, then hoist Isla onto my lap. “Do you have any idea what she’s being so secretive about?”
“No,” Grace says. “Nor do Vicky or Imogen. I asked them. We’ve asked Saskia, too, and she just taps the side of her nose and says, ‘You’ll see.’”
“Maybe it’s a guy?” I muse.
“If it is, I pity the poor bugger,” Christian drawls, earning a belt on the arm from Grace.
“Stop being mean about your sister. She’s fabulous.”
Christian just grins in that goofy way of his. Grace raises both hands in front of her face, blocking him out. “I’m not looking at you. If I do, you’ll make me laugh, and you don’t deserve a laugh for being mean about Saskia.”
Christian shifts closer and nuzzles her neck. “Aww, Duchess. You know you love me.”
“Pancakes.” Isla points at the stack in the middle of the table.
A grin pulls at my lips. “You and your pancakes. How many?”
“Two.”
“With berries?”
She wrinkles her nose, giving my question proper consideration, then shakes her head and points at the maple syrup.
Sometimes she’ll use her words, and other times she’ll revert to her previous communication methods.
Both work for me. I understand her perfectly.
She’ll speak when she wants to. I’m not about to coax her to talk when she’d rather not.
“What are you wearing tonight, Rebecca?” Grace asks.
I groan, my shoulders drooping. With everything going on between Rebecca and me and the fucking Southalls, I’d forgotten about tonight’s ball.
Dad hosts a couple each year, and while they’re a pain, most of the time I don’t mind going.
I’m about to voice my disappointment when I catch Rebecca’s expression and swallow every word I was about to spill.
She’s come alight.
“I don’t know. I probably should’ve thought about it before now, but…” She glances sideways at me. “There’s been a lot going on. I don’t have much, though I’m sure I can come up with something.”
“Oh, let’s go shopping. You, me, Imogen, and Vicky. We can have lunch, too.”
Rebecca turns to me. “Is that all right with you?”
I hate that she asked, even if I understand why. Marriage to that fucking bastard La Salle had caged her, and it’ll take a while for those behaviors to vanish.
“Absolutely. I’ll watch Isla.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. We’ll have a great time, won’t we, kiddo?”
Isla nods. “Pony.”
I laugh. “See? All sorted.”
We finish breakfast, and as Isla slides to the floor, and Rebecca pushes back her chair, I stand, too.
“Go nuts,” I say. “I expect you to come back loaded with bags.”
She beams, stands on tiptoes, and puts her mouth right next to my ear. “Thank you. And who knows? There might be a little gift in there for you, too.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a set of lingerie or two.”
She winks, then leaves with her hand tucked in the crook of Grace’s elbow.
Lingerie. Blood rushes to my groin. I stare at the door, lost in thought.
Is it tonight yet?
Christian nudges me as he goes to leave, too. “Welcome to the club, brother. Trust me, you won’t ever want to leave.”