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I stare at him. “But I thought you didn’t want to touch the house.”
“I’ve changed my tune.” He grins. This handsome, Brad Pitt grin that’s got me giggling like a girl. It feels nice, the levity. “I know how much your career means to you, Bel. I also know you’ve talked about a second act. Something outside the corporate sphere.”
“I don’t know a fucking thing about property development or hospitality.”
“You didn’t know a fucking thing about motherhood. But look how much you’ve learned. Look how you’re crushing it.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m crushing it. I’d say I’m surviving it most days.”
“You’re surviving, which means you’re crushing it in my book. You did that. You can do this.”
I’m smiling hard, and I don’t know what to say.
“Don’t tell me it will allow me to work from home a couple of days a week.”
“It does.”
“Definitely don’t tell me you’ll provide quality, on-site daycare for me and any employees I might hire.”
“Damn you drive a hard bargain.” His grin deepens, teasing. “Childcare—Annabel, that’s a given. We’d love your ideas on making that a reality for all our employees.”
“Salary?”
“Name your number.”
“Benefits?”
“Best in the business.”
He wraps his free arm around me. I curl into his body, inhaling his scent.
“Too good,” I say. “You’re too good at this single-mom seducer game, Beau.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Stay for supper?”
“But it’s not Sunday.”
“So? Let’s start our own tradition. Right now. Dinner at our place Saturday nights.” He gestures to our families, and they spill out onto the yard, heading for the table. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to cook. That’s what Samuel’s for.”
“Use and abuse me.” Samuel’s holding a brightly colored Dutch oven in his oven-mitted hands. He sets it on the table with a grunt and lifts the lid, revealing—what else?—gnocchi. “Consider it my engagement gift to y’all.”
Maisie starts crying.
I laugh, glancing up at Beau. “You sure you wanna do this?”
He lifts her above his head, love written all over his face as he gazes up at her.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
We eat Saturday supper at the table, surrounded by our favorite people in the world. Maisie falls asleep in Beau’s arms. Mom gets too tipsy on champagne and falls asleep on Larry’s shoulder.
The sun sets. The air is warm. The man I love is next to me, making sure my plate and glass are never empty.
Home.
I’m home. And damn does it feel good.
THE END
Epilogue
Annabel
One Month Later
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Beauregard. Or should I say good evening?”
I open my eyes to see Beau standing beside the bed. He’s got a small glass of champagne in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other.
He’s shirtless. Sleep rumpled.
Delicious in every sense of the word.
“Evening, Mr. Beauregard.”
Grinning, he offers his goods, and says, “I wasn’t sure which one you’d want, considering we’ve pretty much slept in until cocktail hour.”
“Can I have both?”
“Honey, it’s your wedding weekend. You can have whatever the hell you want.”
“Good.” I pull my arm out from under the covers and yank down Beau’s sweats. He’s not wearing underwear—yes—and his dick comes out to play, already hard. “’Cause I want it all.”
His stomach muscles tighten as I give him a slow, firm tug.
All mine. This—his cute bubble butt, the biceps for days, the adoration softening his blue eyes—is mine.
I can’t believe I got so lucky.
“Like married life so far?” I ask, looking up at him.
His brow is furrowed, eyelids heavy. I fucking love it when I get him like this—lost to me.
We’ve been lost all day. We woke up earlier with the sun, then had coffee in bed and stayed there. Napping, fucking, napping some more.
“Yeah,” he pants. I thumb his slit. “Fuck—yes, my God, best decision I’ve ever made. Spread your legs.”
Biting my bottom lip, I sit up. And immediately groan at the throb inside my head.
“Uh-oh.” Beau sets the wine on the nightstand and plants his hands on either side of my hips. “Still hungover?”
“I only had two cocktails, but I am feeling it. You?”
He kisses my forehead. “Not so bad, actually. Think I’m still a little high from last night.”
I manage a grin. “What happened last night?”
“Well, Mrs. Beauregard, I think we got married.”
“Did we now?”
“Yep. In front of fifty of our favorite people.”
“Sounds like an intimate affair.”
“It was.” He reaches for the lube, opens the cap, and squirts some onto his first two fingers. “We both wanted to keep it small. You know, keep the focus on you and me and our daughter.”
Beau started the process to legally adopt Maisie the day after we got engaged. But it still makes my heart twist to hear him say things like our daughter.
“That sounds sweet.”
“It was. Very sweet. I thought it was perfect, anyway.” He dips his fingers inside me, running them up over my clit.
“It was. Perfect.”
I breastfed Maisie for the last time when she turned six months old. Not long after, my sex drive came roaring back.
