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He stays there more and more, always asking us to come up and we always mean to.
But with these little ones, the days have turned into years and they’re growing so darned fast.
“It’s only to pick him up from the South Island,” I protest. “Not like I’m flying across the Pacific to go get him.”
Silence.
I don’t need to turn around to know the look she’s broadcasting, I can feel it.
“Y’know, honey? If I didn’t know better I’d think you never wanted me to fly again,” I suggest.
And once I turn around, I have my answer.
And Faith has hers.
“Oh, baby… I’m sorry,” I tell her, grabbing her and wiping her silent tears away. “I won’t go, that settles it, and I’ll have Joel go get your Dad, it’s not too far out of his way.”
The one business I know, flying. I’ve set up here on our new home turf as well as keeping things going back in the States.
Putting my arm around her, I guide her back to the changing table, lifting little Zak into her arms as I hold them both tight.
“I didn’t think it was such a big deal,” I confess, kissing her forehead and then her tears. Relieved when I see her smile.
“It shouldn’t be,” she admits. “But I just don’t know what I’d do if anything happened, Noah… Our babies,” she whispers.
I nod quietly. Wondering if living so remote was such a good idea after all.
But she does have a point.
When it was just me, I’d fly like a devil. Planes, helicopters, anything that got me high and fast. I loved it.
But it’s nothing compared with the love I feel at home.
The calm, still love of being grounded with my one true love.
With our babies, who won’t be babies for long.
“You feeling okay, honey?” I ask her, pressing my palm to her head and taking some instant husband diagnostics of my own.
Internally doing the math. Realizing she could be-
“I’m not pregnant, Noah,” she growls. “And don’t change the subject. I don’t want you flying this weekend, not because I don’t want you to, but because of the weather coming in. You know that…” she reminds me.
She’s right.
She’s always right.
“Or is it because your Dad’s coming to stay for a month?” I ask her, sensing maybe the issue runs deeper than the pair of us and our own family.
Poking her tongue out she makes a face and passes me Zak so I can lay him in his crib next to his sister’s.
These two, they could sleep through an earthquake.
And they both have, too.
“Do you think we’ve been up here too long?” I ask her, remembering the caution we had from the locals and her father about moving into the highlands so soon, practically self-sufficient.
“No,” Faith chimes automatically. “I just think I love you too much to even bear the thought of anything happening to you or my Dad,” she admits.
The kids are settled, and Faith’s arms around my middle. It’s my favorite part of the day.
Nothing but us and the tranquil sounds of our babies asleep.
“How ‘bout I rub your back?” I suggest, feeling her fingers curl over mine as I lead her to our bedroom, right next to the twins.
“How ‘bout you rub my front?” she asks, defiantly.
And I’m only happy to oblige.
Hearing her moan as she pulls me down onto our bed, yanking her own bathrobe to one side so I have full access, it feels like the first night I had her under me.
The first night I even tasted her on my lips.
“How will you cope?” I ask her, gasping and grunting, setting to work as I ease her legs wide open, hearing her sigh as I plant my face between her sweet, creamy thighs.
“Cope with… uh..! What?” she gasps.
“Your Dad being here for a whole month?” I ask, forgetting the question entirely as I feel her warmth running freely over my tongue.
We don’t discuss this any further, not until she’s shuddered hard against my tongue first, and my hard cock second.
The only way I ever send my wife to sleep after we’ve put the twins down for the evening.
Holding her close, later on, she asks me if I mind.
“Mind what?” I murmur, kissing her neck, craning my neck as I check to shear if it’s Zak or Zoe shifting in their sleep.
“About you not going to collect my Dad… flying,” she says finally.
I breathe heavily against her neck, moving my hands over her under the covers and letting my renewed hardness press up against the small of her back.
“Does this feel like I mind?” I ask her.
Of course, I don’t.
“Just stay here with me, Noah Templeton,” My wife orders me, pressing herself back up against me and making us both sigh with contentment.
An order I can’t resist, and one I’m glad I haven’t backed away from since the day we met.
