"Say it again," he murmured softly.
We had just stepped out of the shower, the warmth from our second round of fucking still lingering between us. I couldn't help but laugh quietly, a buried spark from long ago reigniting inside me. Only this time, it was deeper, more honest, because there was nothing left to hide.
"I love you," I said, a genuine smile spreading across my face.
He smiled back. "Well, I love you too," he murmured, his lips brushing gently against my cheek, then lingering on my lips before pulling away.
I furrowed my brows, wondering why he was pulling away, though I couldn't help but admire the view. Water still clung to his skin, glistening under the soft light. Wrapped in a simple white towel that left little to imagination, he looked utterly irresistible.
I tightened my own towel around my chest, feeling a delicious flush of warmth and desire.
"Get dressed," he said, as if he could read the thoughts swirling in my mind, as he head towards the walk-in closet. "I'm taking you out on a tour of our property. And as incredible as our tryst in the balcony was, I'm not keen on parading my wife bare for all to see."
I glanced toward the closet, where he disappeared, then towards the dressing table by the sliding doors that would've led to the balcony.
"Do you know where the hair dryer is?"
"Should be in the drawer of the dresser," he answered, his voice muffled.
I crossed the room toward the dresser by the sliding doors, the ones that would've opened to the balcony. They were shut now, sealed against the afternoon winds. Still, I could hear the ocean hurling itself against the cliffs, dulled and distant, like a memory softened by time. It should've been peaceful. Instead, it was starting to feel like the house was holding its breath.
I pulled open the first drawer and stopped.
Our old wedding invitation lay inside. I remembered keeping it there that morning, tucking it away for old times' sake, then forgetting about it when I walked out of this room.
A simple white envelope, edged with delicate, classical patterns. Ema's calligraphy curved across the surface. Elegant, patient, full of care. She had been my dear friend, writing them for us during her travels across the continent, then mailing it over once it was done.
I couldn't stop staring at it, then. I couldn't stop running my fingers over our names. Mine, in particular, because it wasn't my real one. Lara James. It felt like we were anchoring something fragile to paper, daring it to last.
But it wasn't the invitation that rooted me in place.
Beside it sat the pregnancy test, preserved inside a ziplock bag as if it were something sacred. I lifted it with unsteady fingers, the plastic cold and dusty against my skin. Two lines stared back at me, unmistakably unchanged by time, as clear as the day our lives had quietly split in two.
Grief tightened around my chest, slow and merciless. The room seemed to close in, thick with all the things we never said, all the plans that never learned how to grow old.
We had been so happy. So certain of our new beginning, sealed in these fragile lines. Before it was all brutally wrenched away, without warning nor mercy.
"Isla..."
Alex's voice came from behind me, soft but unsteady. I heard the dull thud of his towel landing in the laundry basket but I didn't turn. I didn't have to. I could feel him watching me, those green eyes darkening the moment he saw what I was holding.
"You kept it," I whispered.
The words trembled as they left me, splintering under the weight of everything they carried. Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them, hot and humiliating.
He was already dressed in his white polo, beige trousers, though his hair still damp. He crossed the room in deliberate strides, gently taking the test away from my hands. He didn't even bother looking at it, when he placed it back into the drawer and slid it shut. As if he wasn't tucking a piece of our past away.
My hands shook uselessly at my sides until he took them, warm fingers wrapping around mine. He pressed his lips to my knuckles, slow and aching.
"It was the only thing I had left," he said quietly. Then his voice broke. He swallowed, hard. "Of...what could've been."
I inhaled sharply, my chest tightening.
His thumb brushed my cheek, catching the tears that slipped free, smearing it away as if he could erase the proof of it. His touch lingered, tender and devastating all at once.
"Don't cry," he murmured, though his own eyes shone. He tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze while his other arm slid around my waist, pulling me to him. I could feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt. Too fast, too familiar.
"Now that you're mine again," he whispered against my forehead, holding me like I might disappear, "everything will be different."
"We still have a long way ahead of us," I whispered.
"I know," he said, his eyes dropping to the towel wrapped around my chest, catching the quickening of my breath, the way I inhaled deeper when he was near. His fingers brushed over the edge of my towel, letting it drop to the floor.
"But we'll get through it," he promised, low and steady.
"Alex," I breathed, trembling with need and anticipation, as he guided me to sit on the edge of our bed, spreading my legs wide as he settled between them. "What are you doing?"
He sank to his knees, those rough hands of his tracing the curve of my thighs, moving closer to the place where I ached for him the most. "What does it look like, Princess?" he murmured, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
I thread my fingers through his hair, keeping my eyes on him, at the way his fingers disappeared between my legs. "I'm going to make you feel better," he whispered, before his tongue plunged into me, igniting every nerve.
The earlier sadness slipped away, replaced by the shivers coursing through me.
"You're crazy," I breathed, my voice trembling.
"Only for you," he said, those green eyes locking with mine, with the evidence of my arousal smeared all over his jaw. "And because I hate seeing you so sad."
Then he lifted my legs, draping them over his shoulders with a strength that was both gentle and commanding, making my breath hitch.
"Now relax, Princess," he murmured from between my legs. "Let me pleasure you."
I didn't even get to respond before his tongue picked up its relentless dance between my thighs. I gripped his hair, desperate to hold him close, my fingers threading through his soft, dark strands. Though that only proved to motivate him more.
His hands dug into my hips, steady and sure, anchoring me as I leaned back, finally surrendering to the hunger growing in him. While he licked, lapped and teased my clit, expertly switching between his tongue and fingers, drawing out the fire burning inside me. The world around us dissolving until only the raw, consuming heat of him remained.