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My bare feet almost slip on the hardwood floor as
we rush into the nursery. I approach the cot, watching my daughter, Liane, softly coo to him through the bars. But our demanding boy’s done waiting. I brush my hand over Liane’s hair as I lean over to touch her baby brother.
Liane smiles at me, eyes sparkling with adoration. “Is he hungry, Mom?”
Our little red-faced peanut definitely isn’t happy. I pick him up, settling his small body in the crook of my arms. “What is it, sweetie?”
He stops for a second and then his lips tremble again. I start to rock him in my arms.
The baby boy chews his fingers ferociously, getting more irritated that it doesn’t satisfy him. He starts to wail again.
“I think he’s teething,” I tell my twins to calm them down since they both look concerned.
Our five-month-old son was an unexpected gift to us. We met our son’s birth mother at the hospital during one of Mark’s heart checkups. She was a fifteen-year-old girl who never had a family and was struggling to keep her head above the water. Without any financial and moral support, she couldn’t take care of the little peanut growing inside her womb. We felt like it was a sign for us. After doctors told us that pregnancy can cause dangerous complications, due to my injuries from the car accident that almost killed me, we decided to adopt. And here he is, our new addition to our family.
“Let’s give him that gel for gums,” I tell them.
Leon rummages through the drawer, taking his brother's pain seriously. When he finds it, he unscrews the lid and squeezes some on my finger so I can rub it on Logan’s aching gums.
“Hey, I’m back!” Mark’s voice filters through the house, and the kids run screaming to greet him, forgetting the crying little bundle in my arms.
Mark won the twins’ hearts and formed quite a strong bond with them. After a half a year living with us, they started calling him dad. I’ll never forget his face when he first heard it. The memory burrowed deep in my heart and tied us even closer.
I listen to them chat downstairs as I bring baby Logan to the changing station.
“Daddy’s home. Let’s change your nappy. We don’t want him to smell your poop.”
He beams at me and my chest glows with joy as I kiss his little feet kicking in the air.
“Hey.” Mark’s husky tone wraps around me as do his arms from behind. “Mm. You look sexy as hell doing this.” He kisses my hair, resting his lips close to my pulse on my neck until I change our little boy. My body melts into his masculine heat, and I exhale a content breath.
“Missed us?” I ask, closing my eyes as he brushes his lips against my ear.
“You have no idea,” he huskily whispers, sending delicious shivers down my spine. His hands caress my waist, and I hum, raising my hand to stroke his jaw. Then he comes around me to kiss Logan’s little hands, reaching for him.
“Here, he’s clean and happy again.” I pass the baby to Mark, kicking his feet, excited. He presses him to his chest and speaks in a hushed tone.
Unable to help myself, I steal a kiss, already yearning to be in his arms naked as he claims me with furious demand. I’ll never get enough of him, of his passionate nature, caring and slightly possessive character. He’s mine in so many ways, as I am his.
“How was your day?” I bite my lip, watching his face transform into a soft look of adoration as his son babbles and smiles back at him. My eyes well up, watching my husband holding our little boy with so much care and affection shining in his eyes, it takes my breath away.
The kids run into the room, tangling around Mark’s legs until he has to sit on the chair and let them park on his lap. His eyes sparkle as they speak about their day. In his white unbuttoned shirt and sleeves rolled up, exposing his new tattoos, he looks like sin. My sin. My heaven.
Joy and peace cling to him, and I want to sip it off his lips.
Leon once told me when I asked why they were calling him dad that, “He belongs with us.” And I know he does because Mark is our beginning.
“It was a busy day. We’re almost done with projects, just a few things left to do, and we’re good to launch. And you?” I lick my lips.
“I haven’t done as much as I would want, but I managed to do quite a lot. I think Peter will be happy with me,” I tell him.
We managed to buy back Fading Ink, since after the rescue operation when the funds were returned. And now, we both work there even if I’m on maternity leave.
We got married in a small chapel six months after the rescue mission since we didn’t want to waste time. We didn’t care for a big event, or party, we just wanted to start a new life. Our wedding felt like reuniting our family, absolving our mistakes and uniting our hearts. We’re still trying to mend bridges and fix what was broken with the Cades. But traumas and pain taught us humility, and to be patient and more sympathetic toward each other. With time, we might succeed.
“Want to go for a walk?”
I nod, kissing him with so much passion when he puts little Logan into the cot to get a stroller. His hard length presses into my belly. “Go, or I’ll take you right here right now,” he threatens me.
