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She starts to leave.
“You will be employed here for five years,” Pax tells her. “But we aren’t required to keep you in your current position.”
Natasha freezes, her shoulders tight. She turns.
“Sir?”
“You are the housekeeper. You do not tell my wife and I how to live. If you do, we’ll find another position for you.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
Pax relaxes. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, Natasha. But my first priority is my wife. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable here. She’s given up a lot to be with me.”
I startle. “Pax,” I start to say. He glances at me.
“You have,” he tells me. “You didn’t want to come here. I know that. But you did it because you love me. This is your home. Do what you want with it. If you want to burn every damn piece of furniture in it and start over, you can.”
Natasha gasps and I rush to reassure her.
“I’m not burning things, Natasha. In fact, if I decide I don’t want something, I’ll offer it to you.”
She exhales. “Thank you, m’am, although you don’t have to do that.”
“You care about this house,” I point out. “That’s commendable. Thank you.”
She nods and she’s gone and I stare at my husband.
“Holy shit, Pax.”
He shrugs. “It needed to be said.”
I shake my head and snuggle into my husband’s shoulder. “I love you.”
He glances down at me. “I know.”
We watch Zuzu inhale her pie and dance around the room, spinning and twirling, because it’s as big as a gymnasium.
“Should I put her to bed?” Pax asks me. “It’s getting late.”
He’s hopeful, and I know why. I grin.
“Yeah. Let’s do it on our way to bed.”
She does down surprisingly fast, and snuggles into her bed. Hers was the first room I had repainted. It is a pale blue in here now, her favorite color and it’s very soothing. Tomorrow, I’m painting ivy vines twisting around her walls. I want to turn it into a “secret garden” themed room. She’ll love it.
Our master suite is right down the hall, through a set of double doors.
It was recently stripped of wall-paper and repainted bone-white. It’s got airy curtains, floor to ceiling, and we have a new bed. It’s a massive wooden piece and it faces a large fireplace.
Classic, slightly masculine. I want Pax to be able to unwind in here.
After we brush our teeth and settle into bed, I cuddle against my husband.
“I love that you still sleep naked,” he murmurs into my ear. He runs his large hand over my hip, up my ribcage. His fingers are careful, like I’m made of glass.
“Lord, I want to be in you,” he says, his voice husky.
I turn, pressing into him. “So be in me.”
