With a groan, he rolls to the side and pulls me closer, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair at my temple. I tuck myself against him, absorbing the slow ebbing of sensations.
As my mind clears from the fog of desire, I become aware of a nagging worry that took root during my many hours of researching before-and-after pregnancy issues. I push up to one elbow and look at Dean, who is lying there with his eyes closed, all sweaty, disheveled, and content.
“Hey, Dean?”
“Hey, Liv.”
“Are you worried about having a baby?”
He opens his eyes. “You mean the labor and delivery?”
“No, I mean…” I twist a corner of the sheet. “Well, last fall you said you didn’t want anything to change between us. But of course with a baby, it will. And, you know, things will change sexually…”
Dean shifts to face me. To my surprise, a smile tugs at his mouth.
“Liv, you turn me on like no woman ever has,” he says. “You always will. And sure things are going to change, but we’ll work it out. Haven’t we always worked it out before?”
Have we ever.
“Okay. I was just… you know. Wondering.”
He’s still looking at me. “You don’t think I’m going to pressure you into anything before you’re ready, do you?”
“No, of course not. But what if it’s weeks and weeks?”
“Then we’ll wait weeks and weeks.” He shrugs. “Liv, I love having sex with you but I’m not a complete jackass.”
“You’re not?”
He reaches up to tweak my nose. “This is how it’s going to go down, Mrs. West. After the kid is born, we’re going to wait as long as necessary to have sex again. Months, if we have to. Until we’re both ready. Then we’re going to figure things out day by day. If something’s bugging you, you’re going to tell me. We’re hiring a babysitter at least twice a month so I can take you out. We’re getting a lock on our bedroom door so the kid can’t walk in on us when we’re doing it.
“There will be lots of kissing,” he continues. “I will stare lustfully at you when you walk past me and often try to cop a feel. This in no way will obligate you to have sex with me, but if you want to I’ll rock your world. And when the kid goes to college, all bets are off and you and I are going to get naked and dirty in every room of the house. In the middle of the day.”
Since I’m speechless, I just sink against him, soft and melting. He folds himself around me in his enveloping, protective way, wrapping us both in the knowledge of all that we are to each other now and all that we will ever be.
“See you tomorrow, Liv.”
Allie and I wave at each other as we leave the Wonderland Café one Sunday evening in July. The sun has started its slow descent, and Avalon Street is crowded with people sitting at the sidewalk cafés, wandering along the lake paths, and window shopping. I walk home, enjoying the warm air and the breeze drifting in from the lake.
I go up the stairs to our apartment, pausing at the sight of a note taped to the door.
Warmth fills me. Though I know Dean isn’t luring me to the Butterfly House for a sexy encounter—he’s too mindful of my pregnancy these days to pursue me anywhere except in the bedroom—I hurry inside to shower and change. Whatever my husband has planned, I’m not showing up all grubby after a day’s work.
As I drive toward Monarch Lane, I wonder if Dean has the same idea I’ve been thinking about for the past couple of weeks. I pull into the driveway and get out of the car, my breath catching at the sight of the huge, ramshackle house. Though it’s still mostly boarded up and overgrown with weeds, right now it looks like a dream.
Tiny white lights shine like fireflies from several trees around the house. Lush, potted plants and flowers bloom along the walkway leading to the front porch, which is draped in a waterfall of twinkling lights. With the sunset casting a reddish glow over the sky, and the lake and town spread beneath the mountains… it’s a picture right out of a much beloved, classic fairy tale.
Except this fairy tale belongs only to us.
A tingle rains down my spine at the sight of a certain handsome prince standing on the front porch. My heart rate intensifies as Dean approaches me, a smile curving his mouth. Dressed in charcoal-colored trousers, a navy shirt, and a blue-and-gray striped tie, he radiates that distinct air of sexy, brilliant professor that quickens my blood.
He stops in front of me, his eyes warm. A tangible crackle of awareness fills the space between us.
“Hi,” I breathe, my whole being flooded with both pleasure and astonishment. “This is beautiful.”
“So are you.” Dean brushes a kiss across my lips before extending his arm to me.
I slip my hand into the crook of his arm as we walk along the broken flagstones to the porch.
“You fixed the steps,” I remark, pausing to look at the repairs he’s completed. “And the balustrade. It looks wonderful.”
“It’s just a temporary fix,” Dean says. “They’ll have to be replaced eventually.”