#snacmc collab

It had been nearly two months since she’d last seen her Mate, her husband. There had been suspicious activity along the northern border and Rowan had led the charge in the investigation, then went on to make sure that the entirety of Terrasen’s border was secured. 

Which was all fine and good, but it did mean that Aelin’s bed was cold and her heart was only half present. 

The grandfather clock in her sitting room chimed six, and knowing that the sun would soon be setting, Aelin was growing impatient. She wondered if she screamed, as loudly as she possibly could, if that would make him come faster. Surely he would hear her, he’d have to be close enough, and nothing worried Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius more than his wife in danger.

Even if he knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself. 

Territorial, over-protective fae bastard. 

Just as she was about to give up and go back inside, she could see him, the tiniest hint of his animal form in the distance. 

He flew directly towards her, without having to even think about it. It was not his first homecoming, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. As he grew nearer, there was a flash of light, then he was landing on the stone ledge with a thump. His boots were filthy and he had a new scratch on his cheek that hadn’t fully healed, which Aelin knew meant that the original gash must have been pretty deep.

Yet, the moment he changed, his eyes were soft as he smiled at Aelin. “Nothing better to do than wait for me to arrive?”

“Well, I have a kingdom to run, but your impending arrival was distracting me,” she said, watching him fondly as he approached. 

“Glad to know I’m more important than your meetings,” he crooned, pausing before her. “I do hope you gave Lord Darrow the respect he deserves.”

“Absolutely,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “After he interrupted me for the third time, I called the meeting and spent the rest of the day in our private library.”

Save for the threat at the border, things had been prosperous since Aelin’s rule began. Trade was booming, the rebuild of the land was tedious, but created jobs the territory needed. The meeting on foreign affairs was more for pomp and circumstance than it was for a specific need.

“Our private library, huh?” He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, finally bringing his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, but full of promise for later. “Surely you weren’t reading the texts on ancient battle strategies like I’ve suggested?”

Aelin hummed as she slid her palms up his chest and around his neck. “I assure you the strategies that I indulged in were far more…useful than any ancient battle strategy.” 

Rowan chuckled as he shook his head. “If any member of our court were to wander into our library and stumble upon a book of yours, they would be appalled at such filth.”

“And that is why I keep all the good ones in our private library.” She kissed him again, and he groaned quietly against her mouth. “You smell atrocious.” 

Rowan let go of his wife and stepped inside. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had a proper bath, I’m not sure what you were expecting.” 

“I was expecting you to at least take some soap with you in your pack. You’re a king, for the gods’ sake,” Aelin teased, following him into their sitting room and closing the double doors that led out onto the balcony. 

Rowan snorted as he took off his pack and tossed it on the couch, then began unhooking his weapons, one by one. “Who do I have to thank for putting up with your sarcastic ass while I’m away?” 

“Oh, the list is long,” Aelin crooned, watching the show he was now putting on. Once his weapons were gone, he began unbuttoning his dusty jacket. “If you’re going to thank them all, it’s going to be all you’re doing this week.”

Rowan shook his head, but she could see the slight twist of his lips as he shrugged off his jacket, adding it to the pile. “Maybe I’ll thank them by taking you off their hands for a few days.”

“Ah, I am a burden,” Aelin said, meandering over to Rowan and fisting her hands into the fabric of his thin tunic. “Are you sure you want to take on that task?” 

“I think I’ll manage,” he muttered, before kissing her once more. Aelin reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, which was growing longer once again. She loved it. 

“Take a bath,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Don’t we have people for that?”

“I find doing things for myself keeps me humble.”

Rowan huffed a laugh before disappearing into the washroom. 

As the water ran, Aelin hurried down to the kitchens, smiling politely and greeting everyone she passed. After collecting a platter of meats, cheeses, bread, and berries, Aelin was finding her way back to her rooms. The water was still sloshing around from the washroom, so Aelin placed the platter on their table before finding her way back into her bedchamber and her wardrobe. After slipping off her gown, she pulled on a thin, golden nightgown and a knee length robe, leaving it open. She pulled the pins out of her hair, knowing that her duties for the day were complete and she would not be leaving this room any more tonight.

Collecting the book she’d been reading earlier, Aelin curled up on the couch in the sitting room, filling a glass with wine from a bottle brought straight from the personal stores of the King of Adarlan. She sipped the wine with an appreciative hum before opening her book and picking up where she’d left off.

The love interests had finally just given into their attraction for each other, desecrating every surface in the mountain side cabin in the best way. The kitchen table, the wall, the bath, the bed, Aelin couldn’t get enough as she turned page after page—

The next thing she knew, she heard the door to their bathroom opening wide and she glanced up to where her husband stood, taking up most of the doorway with his broad frame. He wore a pair of loose linen pants and…that was it. No shirt and from how low the pants hung on his hips, from what she could tell, no undershorts either.

His eyes took in where she sat on the couch, on the glass of wine on the side table and book in her hands and he smirked as he headed for the platter of food laid out on the table.

As he passed in front of the couch she sat on, Rowan froze, nostrils flaring delicately as he scented the air. Raising her eyebrows, Aelin cradled the book to her chest. “Yes?”

“What exactly are you reading?” He asked, continuing to the table the food was laid out on and leaning against it. He plucked a bunch of grapes up before picking them off one by one and popping them into his mouth.

“Nothing of your concern.” Aelin let the book fall back open in front of her, her eyes scanning the page. Rowan watched her for a moment, slowly eating his grapes, before grabbing a slice of bread and walking toward the couch. He plopped down next to her and read over her shoulder with a curse. “I repeat my earlier sentiment. Your court would be appalled if they knew of your reading material.” 

“My court should admire how in touch and confident I am with the idea of romance,” Aelin crooned, nudging her husband in the chest with her shoulder.

Rowan snorted as he bit off a piece of bread. “This is not romance. This is animalistic fucking.” 

A satisfied sensation flooded Aelin’s body as she looked up and met his gaze. “I’ve had to have some sort of companion in your absence.”

His green eyes were bright as he shoved the rest of the bread into his mouth and swallowed. “Surely this doesn’t compare.”

“No?” Aelin asked, teasingly, as Rowan dropped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “I don’t know. Me and my books have had some remarkable nights since you've been away.” 

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, and although humored, they darkened slightly. “So you’ve been well taken care of, then?”

“Don’t you admire how I can take care of myself?” Aelin asked, setting her book on the table beside the couch before giving her Mate her full attention. 

“Always have,” he confirmed, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “Although I feel it defeats my purpose.” 

She loved it when he teased her, when he was playful. To the rest of the world, he was a nightmare come to life, a warrior with one intent, an ancient, powerful male who had the hands of death and the heart of a soldier. Aelin knew better. He was all of that, of course, but he was also a male who sat on the couch with her and flirted, who teased her and made her laugh.

Who made her toes curl and her most delicate parts throb uncontrollably. 

“Is that all you’re good for?” Aelin asked, shifting on the couch to straddle his lap. Rowan’s arms went around her waist, the most handsomely seductive little smile twisting his lips. “Pleasure?”

“As the husband of a queen?” he asked, one brow raised. “Yes. Yes, I’m fairly sure my only duty is to bring undeniable pleasure to Her Majesty.” 

“Hmm.” Aelin pursed her lips. “That’s quite the claim. And if I can pleasure myself just as well as you can?”

A low growl came out of Rowan. Even in their playful state, she could sense his jealousy brewing. “I’ll have to be the judge of that.”

Aelin’s heart began beating just a little bit faster, and she hadn’t even realized that her hips had begun to move, slowly rolling over his, until she asked, “Oh?”

As Rowan nodded, his lips brushed her neck. “Show me how you’ve pleasured yourself in my absence, my Queen.” 

Aelin’s eyes rolled back and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to moan. Beneath her, she knew exactly where Rowan’s mind was at. Between the hard thickness she rocked against and his scent, excitement and need bloomed in her core. 

“I don’t think you can handle such a sight,” Aelin said, her grin wild and devious. “A month and a half of travel has surely left you needy. Handsy. Possessive.” 

“I think you forget how patient I am,” he said, quietly, fingers teasing the hem of her nightgown. 

Aelin rolled her eyes. “You’re not patient. You just like to pretend you are.”

Rowan took her chin between his fingers and made her meet his gaze. “Try me.”

There was something about his tone that filled her body with fire and chaos. His eyes were bright, crazed, full of lust and longing. Aelin was sure that hers mirrored his. Every night that she had spent alone in his absence was full of wishing he was there beside her, holding her, loving her until her knees shook and every thought from her mind had evaporated. Now that he was here, all she wanted was to have him inside of her, but she would play his game. 

She would give him a show until he was begging.

Still straddling his lap, Aelin shook off her robe and took the hem of her silk nightgown, slowly pulling it over her head until it was sitting behind her on the carpet. Rowan’s hands found her waist but she shook her head, smirking as she pushed them away, back down to the couch cushions. “No touching.”

His eyes blazed as they swept from hers, to her bare breasts, then back up again. Although his breathing had increased, he didn’t protest. Instead, his cock twitched beneath her as he gripped the couch cushions on both sides of his thighs. 

Aelin took her time pulling her hair back until it was held snugly by a ribbon, and Rowan was practically growling by the time she slid her hands down her abdomen, to the band of her undergarment. 

“Is that patience of yours thinning?” she teased. 

“No,” he said, but the word was clipped, his jaw hard as his eyes trailed down her body and rested on her fingers, where they began to slide down the thin fabric of her panties. A slow, heavy breath left Rowan and his eyes darkened as the fabric swept down her thighs and every inch of her was bared before him. 

He didn’t even try to hide his lingering gaze. A gaze that Aelin felt powerful under. As Aelin ran a finger through her slick folds, Rowan cursed, low and filthy. His fingers flexed beside him, but his hands did not move. He obeyed the command of his Queen, even as Aelin moaned into the quiet space.

Even the thought of her husband had left her wet and wanting. She could slide down on him to the hilt, effortlessly, but she wouldn’t. No— she wanted to see how long this game would go, how far she could tease him without him pouncing. 

How long he could go without completely losing his shit. 

She wanted him completely unleashed.

Their joinings after time apart were already nearly cataclysmic, neither of them leaving their bed chamber for a day or two. It reminded Aelin of the true mating frenzy they’d been robbed of when Maeve stole her off that beach. As if the time they spent apart built up until it blew, until it wasn’t safe for anyone but the other to be around them.

That suited her just fine.

Dipping her finger into the well of her center, Aelin gasped softly, watching Rowan as he watched her. His nostrils flared and she knew he was scenting her, dying to bury himself in her arousal. With her other hand, she dragged her fingers up her toned stomach to her breast, cupping one. Her fingers toyed with her nipple, rolling it and teasing it until the sensitive bud was tight and peaked.

Rowan’s tongue darted out as he wet his lips, the only sign that he was struggling. His features were still set in stone, as if he were unfazed by her ministrations, but those eyes were locked on her.

Aelin removed her hand from her sex, fingers still glistening and reached up to touch Rowan’s chest.

Faster than she could blink, his own hand had captured her wrist. Her fingers were inches from his skin.

“What is it?” Her voice was husky, yet dripping with innocence, as if she didn’t know what she was doing to him.

Rowan sounded like he was in pain. Only a few moments and she’d already worked him up. “You said no touching.” 

She clucked her tongue, leaning in so her chest pressed into his. It pinned their hands between them. “I said you couldn’t touch me.”

“Then you can’t touch me.”

And before she knew what was happening, Aelin found her self on one end of the couch, her back to the plush, rolled arm, while Rowan sat on the other end.

Much too far for her liking.

He didn’t move. His eyes never left her. They trailed after her fingers as she settled against the couch cushions, her legs stretching out, her toes nudging Rowan’s thigh. His breathing was shallow as his eyes locked on the hand that palmed her breast. 

His hands didn’t stay still, though. Instead, Rowan untied his linen pants before slipping them down his thighs, his hardened length springing free. Aelin’s bottom lip was pulled between her teeth to keep from moaning at the sight of him, completely ready for her. She throbbed between her thighs and every thought from her mind vanished as Rowan fisted his cock and stroked. 

Aelin could practically feel him thrusting into her as the image flooded her mind. This time, she let a moan free as she began circling the throbbing ache of her clit that was begging for relief. 

Rowan’s rhythm matched hers, and for a moment, nothing could be heard in the room except for their heavy, disoriented breaths.

“Your books don’t seem to be of much use now,” he teased her, not bothering to look at the object behind her she claimed gave her so much pleasure.

Smirking, Aelin spread her legs wider, baring herself further to him. There wasn’t an inch of her body he hadn’t seen, hadn’t tasted, and she could see the raw hunger in his eyes. “They’re only necessary when I lack the imagination needed to—”

Her words fell off with a soft moan as she circled her clit, watching as Rowan worked himself. The muscles of his abdomen were straining and his hips would buck off the cushions every so often. Her mouth watered as he teased his cock, stroking the head slowly as beads of wetness appeared. Aelin wanted to lick him clean, to taste the unadulterated essence of her Mate after such a long time apart, but this game between them was first and foremost in her mind. What had started as a way to tease him had backfired in the most glorious way, and as Aelin watched her husband pump his cock in time to the plunge of her fingers into her core, she knew there was no way she would break first.

She breathed his name as that familiar sensation built in her core and Rowan’s jaw locked as he watched her body writhe beneath the power of her own fingers. Suddenly, Rowan’s hand worked himself faster, and a curse of his own left his mouth while Aelin cursed.

“Is this what you do in my absence?” Rowan hissed, his tone half teasing, half undone. His shoulders tensed as his wife cursed again, a string of profanity falling from her lips.

“Jealous?” she asked, but the word was nothing more than a whisper. She could hardly get it out as her hips rolled into her hands.

“How can I be jealous?” Rowan asked, his tone only pushing her further towards her release. “I know what’s going on inside that pretty little mind of yours.” 

Aelin’s fingers slowed to a tantalizing speed. “And what is it that I’m thinking?”

Rowan grinned, and the sight had a whimper sounding from Aelin’s closed lips.  “You’re thinking how good it’s going to feel when I finally bury myself deep inside of you.”

Aelin scoffed, although it was clear that it was nothing more than an act. “I thought I made it clear…I get by perfectly well in your absence. All by myself.”

Rowan’s hand slowed, until his hand wrapped around his cock but it did not move. “Your soul is mine. You are never alone.”

There was certainly some romantic notion in that statement, but it was mostly an animalistic declaration. No, as her Mate, their souls were connected. There was never a second that Aelin pleasured herself that she was not thinking about Rowan, even when he was thousands of miles away.

That thought alone had Aelin breathing, “Touch me.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth that Rowan grabbed her across the couch, dragging her body over his, and crashed his lips against hers. One of his hands was in her hair, the other on her ass and Aelin adjusted herself until she felt him pressing against her center, thick and hard and ready.

Gods, she needed him and she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t, no matter what game they were playing. He was not weaker for needing her, not as he’d once believed, and she wasn’t either. As he ravaged her with his kiss, Aelin rose up on her knees, lining him up with her entrance and sank down in one stroke that had both of them gasping.

Rowan’s mouth found her neck as she rode him, kisses alternating from long, languid sweeps of his tongue that made her squirm, to biting nips of the sweetest pain that had her quivering around him. His lips continued down her neck and shoulders, over her chest, until he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.

Throwing her head back, Aelin moaned, writhing atop him, threading her fingers through his hair.

Rowan’s fingers kneaded her ass as he sucked and praised. He thrusted up as she rocked and bounced, and they did not even try to hide the noises that were shamelessly filling the space between them, around them. Aelin hoped the entire castle could hear, hoped that they all knew her Mate was home and her soul was complete yet again. 

Rowan’s lips found hers, hungrily, his tongue diving into her open mouth. Their bodies were pressed up firmly against one another’s but it still wasn’t close enough. It would never be close enough. Aelin would always long to be closer, even if they were as close as two people could be. She whispered his name and came crashing down upon him yet again, drawing a deep moan from the back of Rowan’s throat. His head fell back and he cursed before throwing her back against the couch and claiming her with a primal relentlessness that had Aelin seeing stars.

She loved him like this.

Completely unhinged.

Lost in all she had to offer, unable to control his needs and desires. 

All of it, only for her. 

The room filled with Aelin’s gasps and screams and cries of his name as Rowan fell into her again and again, urgently and meticulously. With one hand gripping her thigh, the other fell in that little space between them and his thumb rolled her clit until she was falling into oblivion, drowning in her sweet release. Her knees shook and her chest heaved as she swore, her nails digging into his skin. 

Rowan’s eyes were bright as she clenched and spilled out around him. 

It was only a few more frantic thrusts before he was following her over the edge, groaning her name as he came.

His head fell into the crook of her neck, both of them breathing heavily as they came back down. Aelin was the first to move, dragging her nails up and down his back in slow, languid strokes.

A quiet groan rumbled in his chest and she laughed softly as her fingers found her way into his hair.

“Your hair will need a trim before we hold any official court business,” she mused with a smirk as he worked to settle his breathing.

“Your court can take me as I am.” His response was muffled by her skin, but she could hear the exhaustion in his words.

She hummed as she finger combed through the tangles. “I guess you're right. I am queen, after all. What I say goes.”

Rowan snorted, knowing she’d never use her power for something so vain, but didn’t reply.

“We should clean up,” she said, glancing down. His body still completely covered hers, right down to where he was still buried inside her, their mixed releases making a mess on the couch.

“We can clean up tomorrow.” He still hadn’t raised his head, his warm breath on her skin. “Sleep now.”

“We have a bedchamber for that, you know,” she teased and he finally pulled back to look at her.

She had only seen her mate look so exhausted a few times, so completely and utterly drained that she knew the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d be asleep, so she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he echoed, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “Every day and every night.”

Without warning, he stood, carrying her into the washroom, making quick work of cleaning them both off before heading for their bed.

Aelin clung to him, refusing to let go even for a second. She had to soak up every minute before he was called away again to fulfill yet another duty in honor of the beautiful country that they had brought back from the ashes. 

They never redressed before snuggling closely together beneath the heap of blankets on their bed, dwelling in the heat and comfort of one another’s bare body. 

Cassian -

Knowing that my loving wife is at Az and Elain’s, I make my way home after the gym. I’ve spent the last two nights with Feyre and Rhysand with no contact with Nesta. I should feel guilty for just walking out, but I don’t. If anything, I’m still pissed. 

The worst part is that she hasn’t even tried reaching out. I know I was the one to leave, but she hasn’t called, hasn’t sent a text, hasn’t scoped me out. It’s almost like unwelcome validation, further proving my point and fears. 

Once I’m home, I unlock the kitchen door and make my way in from the garage. The house is quiet and perfectly clean as if no one had been living there in my absence. If I were to guess, Nesta had been spending long hours at her office in the city. She hasn’t had anyone bitching at her to come home on time and I’m sure she’s been taking advantage of that. 

The bed is perfectly made and a basket of clean laundry sits on top of the blankets, none of it mine. Greg, our cat, is sprawled out on my pillow, sound asleep. 

I raid my closet, pulling together a new heap of clean clothes that I toss in a bag. It doesn’t feel right, but I ignore that feeling. I have to ultimately do what’s best for me and my happiness, even if joy is the last thing I’m feeling right now.

After getting my shit together, I take a look at the time and start stripping down, tossing my sweaty workout clothes in the hamper. I wonder if she’ll toss them in with the next load of laundry or just let them rot as I walk into the master bathroom and start the shower.

I missed my walk-in shower. It was my only request when remodeling our bathroom a few years back. I’m bigger than the average man and our previous shower never let me forget it. In this shower, I was never cramped and it relaxes the hell out of me.

I stepped beneath the hot water and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, then another.

It wasn’t that long ago that Nesta’s eyes shone when she first saw the shower. She hadn’t fought me hard on its design, only bemoaning the cost once or twice, before realizing just how worthwhile it was. It was big enough for not only myself, but room for someone to join me as well, something she’d taken advantage of often.

If I had a particularly early morning, Nesta would almost always get up with me. While I’d get in the shower, she would go downstairs and start the coffee pot, refill Greg’s food bowl, and check her email, reading over them, but never replying. Sometimes, it took two minutes, sometimes, it took ten, but without fail, before my shower was over, I’d feel her arms wrap around my waist and she’d join me.

It wasn’t always sexual. Sometimes, her emails frustrated her and she needed to vent. Listening and rinsing her hair was something I became good at. Even when I wasn’t inside of her, being with her in such an intimate setting, nothing but our souls, naked bodies, and the water running around us, there was nothing to distract and take away from each other.

But then she started to take longer and longer in the mornings. An email needed an immediate reply or she had to read through some quick edits. Those excuses made sense, they were related to her work, the only thing she loved as much as she loved me. I understood.

Then coffee pot wasn’t working, until I got downstairs and then it worked perfectly. She had been watching a news story and got distracted, but could tell me nothing about it. She had a migraine, four days in a row, that only affected her when I touched her.

By the time she stopped joining me in the shower, I’d stopped hoping she would.

I’m not sure when it all started changing. When I stood with Nesta on our wedding day and said our vows, I never expected to end up here. She was the love of my life, and still is, I think, but it’s…different. Every time I look at her now I feel a sense of sadness, pure loss, like looking at an old memory of when I used to feel alive and invincible, but realizing that it ended in heartbreak. 

We had a hell of a love story, though, while it lasted. We’re too much alike in all the right ways, which resulted in sexual tension that almost always ended in mind blowing fucking.

It wasn’t just the sex. Nesta understood me, and I understood her. We had a bond that I had always thought was too good to be true, and maybe it was. 

I miss her. 

I miss the woman that I had fallen in love with, and even though we were married young, I had no doubt of my love for her, and hers for me.

I miss joking around with her, hearing her laugh because I said something stupid and profane. 

I miss just talking with her about nothing and everything, comforting her, having her comfort me. I miss waking up in the morning to her watching me, still gloriously nude from the night before, with messy hair and a soft smile. I miss the little things that I took for granted, like holding her hand or laying with her on the couch while we watched a stupid movie.

I miss the sex. Not just because the lack of it has me horny and aggressive, but I miss the connection. I miss getting lost in her body that was completely in my possession. Sometimes I still let my eyes linger on her body, and I’m not sure if she doesn’t notice or just pretends not to, but I can’t deny that my wife is gorgeous. A beautiful face, of course, but her body…

Strong and curvaceous, her skin so light that even my fingerprints left soft pink tracks behind them. Her ass was one of my favorite places to grab, to smack, to hold onto while she rocked her hips, while she bounced on my cock, but nothing compares to her breasts. I still catch myself looking at them, catching her peaked nipples through those little tanktops she wears around the house. No bra, never at home, not since we started dating, and I sure as hell never complained. Even now, when she hates me for some unknown reason, it’s still no bra, and my eyes can’t help but drift to how they bounce with every step she takes.

Thinking of those showers we used to take together, of the feel of her skin, of tight tank tops with no bras, sent my imagination into overdrive and suddenly, in my mind, I’m not alone under the spray anymore.

I’m remembering one of the last times we had sex, when I’d come home and found her in the shower. Deciding that surprising her was a good idea considering how tense she’d been, I undressed and slipped into the bathroom without making a sound. I’d startled her and she yelled at me for a solid ninety seconds before I had her back pressed against the cool tile and was balls deep inside her.

The decision to take my cock into my hand wasn’t one I made on my own, but as I remember how good she’d felt, how tight and wet, her nails digging into my shoulders, I’m powerless to stop myself.

The sounds she made, the sounds she always made, the gasps and moans and yelling of my name strung with curses. I swear in the quiet as I pump myself, faster and faster, as I lean my forehead against the cool tile. The image of her head leaned back in ecstasy is all I see behind my closed eyes, the way her brows furrowed as that sensation in her core kept building. 

Fuck.

I’d kill to make her react like that again, to make her feel good, to give her exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. I know her. I know what she likes. I know what makes her scream, what makes her knees shake. 

I can’t help but groan as I near my release. It’s embarrassing how quickly it’s approaching. It’s been too damn long since I’ve orgasmed, too damn long since I’ve been touched. So long that I’ve settled for myself, but I’m feeling too good to care.

I imagine it’s Nesta’s lips wrapped around my cock, her tongue exploring as I fuck her mouth with no hesitation. She shows no resistance, she never has. She loves it, loves the taste, loves the tease, loves sucking me dry.

At least she used to.

I ignore the fact that she won’t be down on her knees before me again and relive the memory of it. I groan and my hand finds the wall beside my head, grounding me as I jack off to the lust of something that no longer exists. 

I breathe her name, or maybe I yell it, I don’t know. 

All I know is that all I can think about is her name, her body, her eyes on mine, the love and desperation in them as we fucked. It’s been months since this day, months since this memory, and I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of anguish and guilt as my release comes.

Nesta -

It’s hard to enjoy time with my sisters when my heart isn’t in it.

I feel guilty. I haven’t seen either of them in forever, save for when Feyre has come to pick up Nyx on the days that we watch him, and now that we’re all finally together, I can’t keep my mind in the conversation. 

I tell myself to focus, but I can’t. It’s been days since I’ve seen my husband, days since I’ve talked to him. I know he’s staying with Feyre, but I can’t convince myself to ask her about him. Even though I want to.

I want to know if he’s as miserable as I am.

I pop a strawberry in my mouth before taking a sip of my wine. “Oh, that reminds me,” I begin, even though I’m pretty sure they had moved the conversation along a few minutes ago, when I started to tune out, “I ordered two swings so I can keep one at my place. Because, you know, I’m going to steal this baby as much as possible.”

Elain chuckled, rubbing her growing bump lovingly. “I’m sure she’ll love spending time at her Aunt Nesta’s…and I’m sure me and daddy won’t mind having an afternoon or two to nap.”

“Why do I feel like you call him daddy way too often?” Feyre asks, and Elain nudges her with a scowl, which makes me chuckle. 

My sisters fall back into a comfortable, lighthearted conversation, but I don’t hear much of it. My mind is elsewhere. I wonder what Cassian is doing, what he’s been up to, what he’s been thinking, what he’s been saying about me. I doubt any of it has been good. I’m sure he’s been cursing my name and wishing I was nothing more than a woman of his past. 

“Nesta?”

I blink, unaware of how long I’ve been staring at my wine glass. I look up at Elain and clear my throat. “Hmm?”

Her eyes were soft, full of worry. “You can talk to us, you know.” 

I look to Feyre to try and gauge where her thoughts are at. After all, she’s the one that’s been talking to my husband. Yet, her eyes are just as full of worry, which I hate.

“I’m fine,” I say, and they know it’s a lie the second it slips off my tongue. The room drops into silence, and I close my eyes. “Has he…said anything?”

My sisters remain silent until I open my eyes, but then Feyre says, “He misses you.”

“He has an odd way of showing it.” The hostility in my tone isn’t directed at her, but I can’t help it. 

“He’s sad.” Feyre shrugs. “He hasn’t said much in detail, and I haven’t pried, but I can tell that he’s sad.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing. I sip from my wine. I didn’t think that it was possible to feel any more guilty, but now I’m drowning in it. It doesn’t help that my sisters stay completely silent, letting me dwell in my misery. 

“Has he…mentioned when he’s coming home?” I ask, ashamed of how small my voice sounds.

It’s quiet for another moment longer and when I drag my gaze from my glass, I regret it. They’re both looking at me with pity.

I hate it. I hate feeling weak, but the sadness in their eyes isn’t just for me. Cassian has been a staple in their lives as long as he’s been in mine. He’s family to them both, but he and Feyre have always been close, almost stepping into the role of the older brother for her that none of us ever had.

I wasn’t surprised when she was the one who took the lead on this particular conversation.

Clearing her throat, she adjusted her seat on the couch, wrapping her arms around a throw pillow. I couldn’t get the image out of my head that she was putting a shield between us. That made me all the more worried for whatever she was going to say.

“I don’t know that he plans to,” Feyre finally admitted.

I waited for her to go on, not wanting to push, but her silence, and Elain’s, continued. “But that doesn’t— Why wouldn’t he?”

“He asked for a divorce, Nes,” she said, voice gratingly gentle, as if she were speaking to Nyx or one of her students. “That’s a pretty big indication that something is wrong.”

“I don’t need you telling me that something’s wrong.” Neither of them flinch at my sudden fury. They continue to watch me, carefully. I take a deep breath. “He’ll come back. He’s just pissed off and needs to cool down.”

Even as I say the words, I taste the lie.

“He’s given up, Nesta. He’s unhappy,” Feyre said, not unkindly. “And so are you.”

Such simple words, a secret that we tried to hide for so long, but here it is laid out bare: the truth. 

“I know,” I say, quietly, because my anger has faded and now I’m at a loss for words. 

“What about you?” Elain asked, and at my confused expression, she says, “Have you given up?”

If I were to tell the truth, I would say that I had given up a long time ago, I just didn’t realize it. Instead, I shrug. 

“Have you two ever talked about marriage counseling?” Elain asks, adjusting herself on the couch with a cringe. Deep into her last trimester, I can tell that she’s constantly uncomfortable. An annoyance, but a luxury. 

I shake my head. “I can’t remember the last time we had a meaningful conversation, much less a conversation that’s involved any sort of reconciliation.”

The confession flows out of me and my sister's frown deepens. “Well, remember Az and I did couples therapy when we were engaged. It helped so much.”

Azriel used to have a difficult time opening up, talking about his past, and it had created separation between the two of them in the beginning. I remember them doing couples therapy for a few months and only being happier and closer together because of it.

“I don’t really see Cass as…the therapy type,” I say, staring at a loose thread on the blanket thrown across my lap.

“Az was opposed to it at first,” Elain says, “but as soon as our first session wrapped, he already wanted to continue with it. Maybe suggest it. If you want to find your way back to him…” She shrugs and her eyes line with tears. I know it’s her hormones, but I still feel guilty for making Elain cry. She quickly shakes her head. “Don’t mind me. You know I’m an emotional mess.”

Feyre chuckles but I lean over and squeeze Elain’s hand. “I know. Don’t worry. I’ve cried so much the last few days that I don’t think it’s possible for me to cry anymore. Greg has gone into hiding, surely scared shitless that every time he sees me I’m going to be bawling.”

I try to make it a joke, but it’s just pathetic.

“We know you love him,” Feyre says, sipping from her glass. “And he loves you. He really does. He’s just…tired. You know?”

Yeah. I know.

“Do you want to save your marriage?” Feyre asks.

I don’t have the energy for anger anymore. “Of course I do. But I feel like…” Apparently I lied. I do still have tears left to cry, and they come now, appearing so quickly that I can’t even try to stop them. “I feel like so much damage has been done. We’ve drifted too far apart and I have no fucking clue how we’re going to find our way back to one another. I don’t think love is enough anymore. And I feel like I’ve made one too many mistakes.”

“No such thing,” Elain said, dabbing at her eyes. “There’s no such thing as too many mistakes. I’m telling you, marriage counseling works wonders. If you want, I can give you the information of the woman we saw. Suggest it to Cass. See what he thinks.”

My eyes drift back down to that loose thread, although my vision is now blurry. I’m scared of suggesting such a thing and having him laugh in my face.

“What if he doesn’t want to?” I ask, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. “What if he’s just done? For good?”

This time both of my sisters spoke at once. Elain, trying to comfort as she always did, and Feyre, unafraid to speak the truth, no matter how much it hurt, their words jumbled as they spoke over each other. They gave each other an apologetic smile before turning back to me.

“He won’t be,” Elain promised, taking my hand. “He loves you and he misses you. I’m sure he’d be willing to do anything to get back to how you were.”

“But…” Feyre took my other hand, squeezing once. “If he doesn’t, if this is the beginning of a different chapter of your life, we’re here. You aren’t alone.”

The smile I gave them didn’t reach my eyes, nor do I think it fooled them. I’d been alone for months, but no one said anything, no one noticed.

What would make this any different?

After another hour of talking, clearing my head, and making sure I was good to drive, I headed home. I was avoiding it now, far more intentionally than I had before Cassian left.

Before, I hadn’t been there because I was busy. I came home late, but I always knew the porch light would be on, that my husband was waiting inside, despite our distance.

Now, when I come home, it’s empty. It’s dark and every sound, day or night, makes me jump.

I hate being alone.

But as I approach the house, I see the porch light is on and my breath catches in my throat. When I raise the garage door, it isn’t empty, as I’d expected.

There’s a familiar black truck parked in the spot opposite mine.

He…came home.

For a moment I just sit in my car, surprised and uncertain, not because I’m not happy he’s here, but because I wasn’t prepared.

After a deep breath, trying to calm my newfound nerves, I open the door and head inside. It’s ridiculous, being nervous to see my own husband, but we haven’t spoken in days and our last conversation left too much unsaid. I don’t know if I should be expecting a gentle reunion or preparing for a fight. 

“Cassian?”

The house is quiet. Greg is nearly asleep on the kitchen table, looking like he’d just gotten there and isn’t quite comfortable yet. 

Cassian's keys and wallet are sitting next to his phone on the island. It’s not where he usually puts them when he comes home. I’m finding it much stranger than I probably should.

When he doesn’t respond to me, I start making my way through the house, calling his name once more. I take to the stairs and hear the shower running as I approach our bedroom. 

It must be a good sign, right? That he’s making himself at home?

It looks like he came here right after the gym. His shoes are discarded on the floor, his sweaty clothes sitting on top of mine in the hamper. I drop my purse on the bed and slip out of my boots. I’m just about to sit, to wait for him, to take a few minutes to think about what I’m going to say, but then I hear my husband moan and my entire body locks up.

It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve heard him moan.

He’s having sex in there.

He may be pissed, but to bring some slut into our house— 

My entire body is shaking and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I feel a panic attack coming on, feel my face burning in embarrassment. We’ve had our issues, but I never imagined Cassian to be the cheating one, never imagined he could be unfaithful. 

And then to rub it in my face like this?

Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m storming towards the bathroom and throwing open the door.

A room filled with steam greets me, and before I can start screaming and cursing his name, I freeze.

Cassian’s alone. His back is to me, one palm opened flat against the tile wall, his head thrown back as his body starts to tense. The glass is fogged up, but I can still see enough of the body that I used to explore and pleasure. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him naked, since I’ve let him touch me in any sort of way, since I’ve touched him.

Which seems to be why he’s touching himself now.

He hasn’t heard me come in, and I should walk out, but my feet are stuck just across the threshold, my hand clinging to the doorknob.

He works himself quickly as he moans again, and curses low.

He says my name as he comes.

I must have gasped, must have made some noise as the shock of hearing him groan my name in ecstasy flooded my body, because he turned on his heel, staring at me through the fogged glass. His hand was still around his cock, his chest heaving with each breath that rasped from his lungs.

If I hadn’t been expecting him to say my name, I surely hadn’t been expecting the ire in his eyes when his gaze landed on me. Any heat at what I’d walked in on dissipated as he looked at me.

He may have been thinking of me, but clearly he didn’t want to see me.

My chest felt cold and hollow and empty.

We sit in Gwyn’s office in nothing but silence. I had high expectations for our date, but since then, things have been…tense. 

Cassian left me on the streets outside of Sea and Vine, which is exactly what I wanted. I made it two blocks before calling an Uber to drive me around the city before dropping me off at home. Cassian had been waiting up, but didn’t say a word to me once I had gotten home and climbed into bed. He simply made his way to the couch for the night after locking up.

I know I have to talk about what happened, but I wasn’t ready in that first session and I didn’t want to be shamed for not being ready. As I sit here now, however, I know that I’m going to have to face it sooner rather than later.

Especially when she starts the session by asking, “How did your date go?”

Cassian snorts beside me. I want to smack him. Gwyn just lifts a brow.

“Nesta wanted to leave halfway through because she didn’t like our topic of conversation, then decided to Uber home instead of getting in the car with me,” Cassian says, bitterly. I don’t blame him. Even though we’ve continued our small talk around the house for the last few days, I know that he’s still pissed about our date gone wrong. 

“I see,” Gwyn says, and looks at me. “What was this conversation that you didn’t like?”

I open my mouth to respond, but it’s Cassian that says, “I told her that we need to be truthful when we’re here. We need to get everything out in the open.”

Gwyn is still looking at me. “I will agree that honesty is key when in counseling. It’s usually the parts of us that we are afraid to face head on that are the things that need to be discussed. Even if it’s difficult.”

Cassian looks at me as he leans his forearms on his thighs. He’s a little too big for this tiny couch. That’s what I’m focusing on as he says, “I want to talk about it.”

I know what it he’s referring to. I don’t have to ask. “I don’t.”

“We need to.”

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re never going to be ready.” This time, his tone changes. It makes me look at him. His eyes are pleading and something within me sways and breaks. “I need to talk about it. I need for us to talk about it.”

I’ve been ignoring his needs for a long time. Ignoring them for so long that it led us here, to this, to him wanting to leave me. I know I need to grant him this, to open up, to talk about it, but the thought already has me in tears and I haven’t even said the words out loud yet. 

But then he turns to me and takes my hand. He brushes his thumb over mine, and it comforts me, if only a little. 

I find a place on the carpet and stare at it, cling to it, as I say, “Last time you had asked if anything had happened a year ago, when we started growing distant with one another, and I said no.” Cassian’s thumb continues to soothe me. “I lied, and asked Cassian to lie, too. There was no cheating, nothing like that, but…” I swallow and wipe my eyes with my free hand. “Cass and I tried starting a family about two years after we were married, once we had graduated and found jobs. It took a while, but I finally got pregnant and then I miscarried. The same thing happened about a year later, so we waited a few years before trying again. When we did try again, I got pregnant right away.” I look up at Gwyn, who is watching me patiently. I’m not sure if therapists are supposed to show any emotion, but I see the sorrow in her eyes that mirror my own. “I made it about halfway through my pregnancy, thinking that this would finally happen for me, for us, but then we lost her.” Her. There they were. The words laid bare. The words I have not spoken or confessed in a year, since the night that it happened, when I cried and screamed as my husband held me in the hospital. “That was about a year ago now.” I take a minute to try and compose myself, to overcome the sob that snuck its way out. Cassian's hand on mine is tight, and when I glance at him, he’s crying too, but his tears are silent. He says nothing, but he watches me, he comforts me, he grounds me. “I know that that’s when I started becoming distant. I wanted to mourn alone. That alone time eventually just became a wall that I had built up too high that I’m still having trouble tearing down. I started working more because it distracted me, and now it’s what everyone expects of me, to get out new content quickly. And I didn’t want to have any sort of intimacy because I didn’t want to go through that again.” I look at Cassian. “I don’t want to go through that again. I can’t go through that again.”

“First of all, Nesta, I want to thank you for trusting me — and Cassian — enough to open up about that.” The notepad is open before her, but for once, her pen isn’t in her hand. Her eyes are on me, on both of us, as she regards us with sympathy. “I had a feeling there was something you weren’t being completely forthright about when we spoke last, but I will never push you into speaking about something you haven’t begun to come to terms with yourself. Infertility can often be a silent battle, one that you feel like you’re going through alone, but I can assure you that you two are not the only ones fighting it.” She turned her attention on Cassian and I tensed. “Cassian, if I may, you lied for Nesta when we talked last, yet it seems like this is something you’re needing to talk about, too. Why is that?”

He released a breath, his fingers tightening in mine. “Because…no one knew. No one knows.” My eyes shut before I could see Cassian’s fresh tears, but I’m unable to stop my own tears that continue to fall. “We kept the pregnancy a secret, after the two miscarriages before. Nesta wanted to wait to tell our family and friends. We didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, to get our hopes up, if something went wrong. And then it did.” His voice was quiet and broken. “My brothers never even knew that I was going to be a dad. And then she was just gone, before we even got to hold her. To know her. To love her.”

Suddenly, I can only see the blood. I see blood on our sheets and hear the beeps of machines at the hospital, meant to read her heart rate and mine. I remember the emptiness I felt, empty from the shock until the reality hit me, that my baby was gone. Again. Everything after that was a blur but that emptiness had returned, had remained. The bloodstained sheets and the steady beeping of the heart monitor remained in my mind, in my memory. The monitor only picked up one heartbeat, and it wasn’t the one I had wanted to hear.

Guilt consumes me, yet again. I had never asked Cassian how he was after that. I had never wanted to talk about it. He had to heal, all alone. I want to apologize, but I can’t seem to open my mouth and form the words, so I reach up and wipe his tears with my free hand. 

Our eyes meet and hold, and a wordless conversation passes between us. Gwyn remains quiet, letting a moment pass, then another. 

“I encourage you both to talk about this beyond these walls.” Gwyn spoke quietly. “And when you’re mourning this loss, let the other know so that they can be there for you and comfort you. We are not meant to grieve alone and it seems that the two of you have been grieving alone for far too long.” 

I nod, as does Cassian. 

“Is that honest communication something you can vow to work on?”

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat, and Cassian repeats my answer. 

Gwyn smiles kindly, and I have to admit that I'm feeling lighter. At least until she asks, “Was it before this experience that the two of you were last intimate?”

Ah. The other topic I’ve been dreading.

“No,” Cassian begins, slowly. His grip on mine has lessened, but he keeps holding my hand. “There was a time about six months ago, but that’s been it.”

The time when he came into the shower with me. It had been good, amazing, as it always had been. But that was it. One time in a year. I’m embarrassed. I look at the floor to try and hide it.

Gwyn jots something down. “And how do you feel about that lack of intimacy?”

“I understand it,” he said, calmly. “Especially now that she’s told me why…but, I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t bother me.”

“How would you describe your sex life, before everything happened?” She asks, as if it’s a totally normal thing to ask about. Which, in this instance, I guess it is.

“Very healthy,” I admit, clearing my throat. I’ve never been uncomfortable talking about my sexuality, but intimacy is a very different case.

She writes down something else. “And how often were you having sex to consider it very healthy? A few times a week?”

Meeting Cassian’s gaze, it feels like my face is on fire. Beneath the tears that are still drying on his face is a smirk. A hint of the man I married.

I roll my eyes, trying to hide my smile, and he takes the lead. “At least once a day, sometimes more.”

Gwyn’s eyebrows raise, just enough that I know his words shocked her, and hums. “Very healthy, indeed.” She scribbles something down before looking between us. “How often do you touch?”

Again, my cheeks hea for no reason. “We just told you, it’s been a while.”

“I don’t mean intimately. I mean, how often do you physically touch?” She gestures to Cassian. “When she touched your face a few moments ago, were you aware that you moved closer to her?”

Trying not to be obvious, I look down to where we’re sitting on the small couch. When we first sat down, we were both leaning against our respective sides, but now…

Our thighs are pressed against each other, Cassian’s hand resting on his own lap, but poised to take mine again at any time.

“I hadn’t, no.” His voice is low and I can’t sense the emotion there.

“Ultimately, our sessions are to get the two of you back where you started, yes? This is a journey I take with couples all the time, but no one reaches the destination the same way.” She closes her notepad, indicating our time today is almost over. “For some, sex is a hurdle that needs to be crossed. For some, it’s a crutch and there are even others that use it as a weapon against their significant other. For you two, I think sex is a wall.”

Cassian hesitated, his brows furrowed.

“For this wall to come down, I think you should take things slowly,” Gwyn suggested, carefully. “Start small. Little gestures of intimacy. Hold hands. Try a hug. Even just a little, random touch, like when you touched Cassian’s face, Nesta, or when you, Cassian, were rubbing Nesta’s hand. These little touches will serve as a foundation for everything else. Before jumping into sex, I recommend that you rebuild your foundation. What do you think about that?”

“I think that sounds nice,” I say, honestly. 

“I agree,” Cassian says, quietly.

“Good.” Gwyn smiles, and before we are dismissed, we set up our next session for two weeks from now. After we say our goodbyes, me and Cassian make our way to the truck.

The ride home is quiet but not uncomfortable. We spend our time absorbing, reflecting. We’re about halfway there before he takes my hand. He doesn’t let go until we’re parked in the garage.

“Dinner tonight?” he asks, once we’re in the kitchen and Greg greets us.

“What’re you thinking?”

He opens the fridge and takes a look around. “Roasted chicken? I can make it with corn or asparagus, maybe some rice.”

“That sounds good.” 

When he turns back around, he sees that I’m watching him and gives me a small smile. “So, uh, how do you feel?”

“Overwhelmed,” I say, honestly, “but relieved, if that makes sense.”

He nods. “It does. I feel about the same.” He rubs the back of his neck, which serves as a sign that he’s nervous or uncomfortable with whatever he’s about to say next. “I’m glad you wanted to do this. Counseling. I think it’s going to be good for us.”

We have a long way to go.

I know this, he knows this, it can be felt in the air between us. To get back to the people we were, the people so madly in love that such a love shouldn’t exist, it would be no easy journey, but that was okay, because we were working towards it.

“What?”

“You can’t have her that close to the stove! What if she catches on fire?!”

I look down to where Evelyn is strapped to my chest, swaddled in the cotton wrap that leaves only her face popping out, her little cheek squished against my chest. She’s sleeping, snoring softly, and perfectly content.

“Nes.” I give my beautiful wife a look as I desperately try not to roll my eyes. “She’s three weeks old. What’s she going to do? Fling herself into the pot?” Nesta opens her mouth to protest, but I go on. “There’s only one burner on, and it’s on low, and it’s the back burner, and I’m letting it simmer. I’m just giving it a quick stir. I can assure you that no infant will be harmed in the stirring of this sauce that will blow your fucking mind. Calm down.”

As soon as those two little words leave my mouth, I know I fucked up. Backtrack. Rewind. The spoon in my hand stills as I clear my throat, scared to even look in her direction. “And…by ‘calm down’...I mean…I love you.”

She approaches, her footsteps light, and she stops beside me. “Be glad I love you too or I’d be tossing your balls into that pot right about now.” 

Pain. I feel physical pain at those words. Cringing, I set down the spoon and turn to face her. She’s not looking at me at all, but at the little bundle of joy we brought home three weeks ago. Nesta’s eyes are soft as she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Evelyn’s forehead. 

We were instantly in love. From the moment she was given to us, we knew that we were meant to be her parents. It’s hard as hell, raising an infant, and although it’s only been three weeks and I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot harder, I have never felt so fucking blessed. 

“Everyone should be getting here soon,” Nesta says, quietly, eyes meeting mine at last. She reaches up onto her toes and kisses me, softly. 

Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and Elain were all in the waiting room at the hospital when Evelyn was born, but we haven’t seen them since. They’ve given us space to settle into our new roles, into this new life we’ve built for ourselves. The solitude, although necessary and beautiful, has been driving us a little crazy, though. Two days ago, Nesta came to me in tears, partly out of exhaustion, I’m sure, and told me she needed her sisters.

So tonight, I made dinner. 

Evelyn is in a pretty good routine and will most likely sleep for the rest of the night, only waking up to eat, but she can sleep anywhere. I have no doubt we’ll be passing her around so that everyone can get their baby fix. 

They all arrive together, six on the dot, and we greet each other as if we haven’t been all together in years instead of a matter of weeks. I don’t even care that the food has gone cold by the time we sit around the table, too much time being spent doting over the baby for it to stay warm. 

Even cold, it’s delicious, I must say. We eat and talk and laugh, and tell them all about every little detail of the last three weeks. Nyx is smitten most of all, wanting to sit next to his cousin at all times and hold her hand. He’ll be a fantastic big brother and I can’t help but wonder if Rhys and Feyre will have more kids. I know Rhys wants a house full, but he’s not the one doing the hard work. 

Once we’re full and the table has been cleared, we get comfortable in the living room. Elain is holding Evelyn while Azriel rocks a sleeping Sera. I’m convinced the two of them will be best friends and will most likely raise hell together. 

I can’t wait. But then again, yes I can, because she’s so sweet and innocent in this newborn stage that I don’t want that to change. Then again, I can’t wait to watch her grow, to see all those milestones and watch her grow into her own person. 

“Careful, dad, you’re getting teary-eyed,” Nesta whispers, leaning into me and patting my knee. 

I chuckle and pull her closer. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

Nesta rests her head on my shoulder. “Liar.” 

She’s right. It was a lie. I’m overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with love and contentment. We worked so hard to be where we’re at and although it’s not how we originally imagined, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d endure every bout of heartache all over again that led us here, to this, to her. 

Nesta.

Evelyn.

I watch as our family loves on our daughter, watch as our little circle becomes whole. I had dreamt of this, we both had for so long. The fact that it’s now reality is unreal. I feel like I’m dreaming and the fact that I’m not, yes…has me on the verge of tears. 

One must slip past my defenses because Nesta reaches up and wipes her thumb across my damp cheek. 

No one comments on my crying and I feel zero shame. There is no shame in being unimaginably happy. 

“Now I have two cousins,” Nyx says from where he’s climbing onto Rhys’ lap. He scrunches his nose. “When will I have boy cousins? Or a brother? There’s too many girls.”

Rhys laughs quietly. “These girls are going to grow up to kick your butt if you keep talking like that. Especially with these two brutes as their fathers.” 

Azriel snorts. “Cass will have Evie lifting weights daily by the time she’s two. She’ll probably be able to kick my butt.” 

Nyx laughs at this, head thrown back, his giggles loud. 

We stay sitting, talking, reminiscing until even Nyx is snoring soundly in his father’s arms. By the time we finally say goodnight, I’m spent. Exhausted. Can hardly keep my eyes open.

But I don’t care.

Sleep is irrelevant when everything has fallen into place, when every time your eyes are open you feel like nothing can go wrong. We’ve already had our heartbreak, have already faced our trials, and although I’m not naive and know that trials will still come…

I know, without a doubt, that everything will be okay. 

I’m sliding into bed as Nesta lays Evelyn in her bassinet next to her side of the bed. I watch as she stares at our daughter, knowing her heart is bursting with pride and love, mirroring my own. I lay down quietly, my eyes remaining on the outline of her frame in the darkness. 

“She’s perfect, Cass,” she whispers, and those damn tears return. 

“Yeah,” I agree, quietly. “She is.”

She climbs into bed and snuggles up close to me, my arms going around her without a thought. We close our eyes, quickly drifting into the four hours of sleep we’ll be getting, at most, before the soft cries of a newborn fills our silent bedroom. 

Sleep is irrelevant.

Our daughter is perfect.

My wife is the love of my life.

I spent the entire morning getting ready, so excited that I was making myself nauseous. I’ve never been one for waiting. Patience and I are mortal enemies. It was well worth it, though, the second that I saw my wife. She walked towards me with a bouquet of lilies, smiling brightly, and I could hardly contain myself.

And her dress.

The dress that Nesta chose for this perfect day was a garment made by the gods. Made nearly entirely of lace and covered in intricate beading, parts of it are damn near painted on. It perfectly magnifies her breasts and her ass, and although it’s not gentlemanly to focus on those two things, I don’t give a fuck. I can’t stop staring at either and I know damn well that that was Nesta’s intention. 

After I got past the dress and was able to think clearly, I delivered the most heartfelt vows I could possibly come up with. I’ve spent the last month working on them and had Azriel, Rhys, and both of my sister-in-laws proofread them. Nesta is obviously a fantastic writer and I was nervous that they wouldn’t live up to her level of perfection, but by the time I was done reading them, she was crying.

She kissed me right then and there, before she had even read her vows, not caring that we were surrounded by all of our friends and family and coworkers. It was a hell of a kiss, too. Her tongue met mine and it took every ounce of self control not to sweep her into my arms and carry her into a closed space. 

Especially in that dress.

I’m watching her now, dancing with her sisters with a drink in her hand. I can’t take my eyes off of her, I haven’t been able to since the moment she came into view a few hours ago. She’s been my wife for ten years and I can’t believe it. I’m so in love with her, more in love with her every day.

My feet are moving before my mind catches up with me. I’m close enough to touch her before she turns around and jumps, apparently not expecting me to sneak up on her. Or, judging by the slight glaze of her eyes, she’s just a little tipsy.

“Hi,” I say, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her close to me. ”Can we go now?”

She throws her head back and laughs which is one of the most beautiful sights known to man. “No. We just got here. Besides, we haven’t had dessert yet, and we all know that’s the best part.” 

I cock a brow. “I think dinner is the best part, but I see the appeal.” 

“Spoken like a chef,” she says, finishing off her drink and running her arms around my neck.

I’ve never been one to make dessert. It’s not my strength, at all, but damn it, I can cook a hell of a meal. 

“I think he’s enjoying himself, don’t you?”

I follow Nesta’s line of sight and snort. Eris is standing by the bar, drink in hand, scowling at the bartender as he flirts with one of my coworkers further down the line. “To be honest, I’m surprised you wanted to invite him.” 

Nesta shrugs. “We’ve been trying to get along better lately.”

“And how’s that going?”

She rolls her eyes. “About as you’d expect it to. Come on. Dance with me.”

I can’t say no to that. We make our way to the middle of the dance floor just as a slow song begins. Without any hesitation, I pull Nesta into my arms and begin swaying to the beat. 

Suddenly, it’s just the two of us. No one else matters, no one else exists. We are in our own little world, just as we were on the dancefloor ten years ago, just like we are whenever we are alone, as one. 

As she rests her head on my chest, I take a deep breath and think about everything we’ve been through, the highs and the lows, about how far we’ve come in a year. A year ago, our marriage was in shambles. Nesta was hurting in ways I couldn’t imagine, and while my heart was broken, too, we both let ourselves fall into our own brands of darkness. I wasn’t sure we would be able to pull out of it.

But here we are.

Here we are and I have never been so in love with my wife.

Lifting her head, Nesta gazes up at me. Her eyes are filled with tears, but they have been all day, so I don’t think anything of it until she says, “So I got a phone call earlier today.”

My eyebrows raise. “About?”

Gnawing on her lip, I can see she’s about to burst with the news. Whatever it is, the fact that she’s kept it from me until now is impressive. And when she speaks, my heart stops.

“About a possible placement coming up in a couple months.”

We stop swaying. We stop moving and I stare at her. “A couple of months?”

Nodding, she’s unable to stop the tears from finally spilling over. “There’s a young mother who just entered the program. She’s six months pregnant and wants her baby to have the best life possible, but knows that isn’t possible for her right now. We’re going to meet her next week.”

I’m speechless.

I’m rarely speechless, but right now, I have no words. I can’t stop staring at Nesta, with my mouth hanging open, as tears of joy run down her cheeks. She laughs, quietly, and cups my face in her hands. 

“Next week?” I ask, at last, and it’s nothing more than a whisper.

She nods, and her smile is so pure that it makes me weak. “Wednesday, ten o’clock.” 

“Wednesday,” I repeat, and swallow hard. I have so many emotions running through my body that I can’t contain, that can’t be deciphered, so all I let out is an eloquent, “Holy fuck.”

Nesta laughs as she nods once more, and then she’s kissing me. I take her into my arms and spin her around, not caring who sees. This is our night, and I don’t give a damn that anyone is watching. 

By Wednesday, we may be on the right track to having what we’ve wanted for so long. A baby. A family. The thought alone has me feeling more joy than I ever thought imaginable. Just when I think the night can’t get any better, it does.

When I let her feet touch the floor, I pull back to look at her and the smile on her face is breathtaking. She’s so damn beautiful and for a second, I can’t believe she’s mine. I don’t realize that I’m crying until she reaches up to wipe the tears from my face. She whispers, “I love you so much.”

There’s no hesitation in my answer. “I love you more.”

With a roll of her eyes, Nesta is rising up on her toes and pressing another kiss to my lips. “I haven’t even told my sisters. I told them the phone call was a business call.”

“We can wait,” I promise her. “Wait until we see where this goes. That way we don’t get anyone’s hopes up.” What I don’t have to mention is that I don’t just mean our family’s. I also mean our own. “Now come on,” I say, stepping back after I kiss her one last time. “Let’s go smash cake onto each other’s faces.”

We do just that and the rest of the night goes on with the same joy and celebration that has been present all day. After I shove cake into Nesta’s mouth, and all up the side of her face, we eat and drink and dance the night away. By the time midnight rolls around, Rhysand and Azriel are plastered and dancing with one another in the middle of a vacant dancefloor. Our guests have begun to leave and now very few of us remain. 

I sit between Elain and Feyre, finishing what’s left in our glasses, watching the two fools sway and sing obnoxiously for all to see. 

“I can’t believe I’m in love with that man,” Feyre mutters, although her voice is full of admiration.

“I can’t believe we procreated with them,” Elain adds.

I laugh, shaking my head. If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d probably be out there with them, but I am. It was a long day, and I’m still not completely recovered from my drinking binge last night. It was all worth it, though. Every bit of it has been worth it.

My eyes wander over to Nesta, who is saying goodbye to some of our guests. All I’ve wanted since the moment I saw her earlier today was to take her away and have her all to myself. I’m tempted to drown myself in coffee so I have enough energy to do just that, now that it’s almost time to go home. 

Before I get the chance, Nesta turns and catches me staring. With one look at her raised eyebrow, I’m on my feet, crossing the room and wrapping her up in my arms. “Ready to go?”

Chucking, she asks, “How many more times are you going to ask me that?” Rising up on her toes, she leans up to kiss me.

I meet her halfway and answer with my lips still on hers. “Until you relent and let me take you home so I can ravish you.”

The way her eyes roll tells me that was exactly the answer she was expecting, but she says, “Let me say goodbye to my sisters and grab my stuff.”

“I’ll do the same.” She steps back, but I’ve got a hold of her hand. Bringing it to my lips, I press a kiss to the new band sitting alongside her original wedding set. “I love you.”

Her eyes soften and she pulls back into my body. “I love you more.”

I kiss her again, slowly, and she sinks into it. Before I can get too carried away, though, I break it off and step back with a groan. “Grab your shit. Quickly.”

She grins and her eyes light up, even as she rolls them. I force my own feet to go back to the dressing room and start throwing my stuff into my duffel bag. The door opens and closes behind me and I know it’s my brothers before I even turn to see them, practically carrying one another into the room.

“Cassssssss,” Rhysand grins, and throws himself into my arms, followed by Azriel. For a moment, we just stand there, drunkenly embracing, but then they pull back and Rhysand claps me on the shoulder. “We love you. We’re happy for you. We’re proud of you.”

He hiccups halfway through the word proud and there’s a good chance neither of them will remember this in the morning, but I have no doubt that he means every word.

And it means everything to me.

I drag them back into the reception hall with me, thinking they’d lose their way if I didn’t, and once they’re safely delivered to their wives, I find mine.

We didn’t announce that we were leaving. There were no sentimental parents waiting to see us off. Hell, we aren’t even taking a honeymoon, just taking two days off to fuck like animals at home and then get back to real life. So we don’t tell anyone as we meet in the front room and I take her bag, carrying it to the truck as we walk hand in hand. I chuck our bags in the back then make a dramatic show of opening the passenger door, before scooping her up and setting her in seat. She’s laughing by the end of it, so no matter how stupid I may look, it’s worth it. I hop in the front seat, the engine roars to life, and we’re out of there.

We’re passing through the main square when Nesta gasps. “You know what sounds so good, Cass? Fried pickles, we should stop at the diner and pick some up.”

It’s a damn good thing I know this town like the back of my hand because I’m staring at my wife, despite needing to have my eyes on the road. Blinking, I look forward. “We’re on the way home from our renewal—”

“And I want some fried pickles,” she interrupts, turning in her seat to face me. Her dress is a cloud of fabric on the floorboard, more dress than there is room at her feet.

“You know, I can make you—”

“No, no,” she begins, fully knowing that she has me wrapped around her finger and I’m going to do whatever she asks, despite my protests. “Fried pickles from the diner.”

I blink. “It’s almost one—”

“The diner is open twenty four hours, lucky us.”

With a reluctant sigh, and a laugh I can’t help, I turn right at the next set of lights and less than five minutes later, we’re walking into the diner. Every person in here — and there’s not many — looks at us in surprise and I suddenly feel on full display.

And I also don’t love how the guy behind the counter is staring at my wife.

We’re seated instead of getting takeout, although Nesta orders one basket of fried pickles for now and the other to go. Seeing how I’m apparently going to be up all night, I order a coffee and a breakfast special that consists of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, and we eat our strange middle of the night meal, sitting on the same side of the booth. 

By the time I’m full, all of my plates cleaned, Nesta is still munching on her fried pickles. She’s asked for more ranch twice, and completely drained them all, licking her fingers absentmindedly like she’s not wearing a stunning, expensive wedding gown. 

They give us our meal for free, as a wedding present. 

By the time we’re home, it’s three-thirty and her eyelids are heavy in the passenger seat, where she holds my hand while I pull into the driveway. I, however, am wide awake, thanks to my coffee refills while I waited for her to finish her basket of grease. 

After cutting the engine, I round the truck and open her door. Her head lulls in my direction and she smiles at me, sleepily. “Is there when you carry me across the threshold?”

I do. I lift her up, cradle her in my arms and carry her through the garage door, into the kitchen where Greg is sprawled out on the table, snoring softly. 

After kicking the door shut, I keep carrying her upstairs, through the dark, silent house. Our house, our home that’s full of love and will hopefully, one day, be filled with children. 

Maybe even one day soon. 

In our bedroom, I set her down and start unbuttoning the back of her dress. 

There are a lot of fucking buttons. 

She chuckles quietly as I work and when the band of her ivory lace thong she’s adorned starts to show, my fingers are nearly sore and I stop, muttering, “Surely you can get out of it without me doing the rest, damn.” 

“You weren’t having fun?” she asks, humored, as she lets the dress fall down to a pool around her feet.

“Who puts that many buttons on a dress? How long did it take you to get into that damn thing?”

She turns to me slowly and my eyes drift to her full breasts, bare and on display for me, nipples peaked. “I thought you liked the dress.”

“I loved the dress,” I say, and I did, even if I spent most the night dreaming of getting her out of it.

She stifles a yawn as she steps toward me and lays her hands against my chest. “There was a promise of you ravishing me once we got home, if I remember correctly.”

I huff a laugh and pull her waist closer towards me. “It can wait until tomorrow. You’re tired.”

She groans and runs her hands up my shoulders, her fingers into my hair. “I don’t think so.”

My grin barely has time to widen before her mouth is on mine, hungrily, and I’m carrying her to bed. My clothes end up in a heap by her dress and we make love, slowly, then we fuck like animals like we’ve done a million times before. It’s full of passion, longing, lust and love, wholly reverent. It’s two souls connecting, reminding each other of our past and promising each other our futures.

We have risen from the ashes. We’ve taken what was ruined, shattered, and made it whole once again. We fixed what was broken and made it stronger than it was before.

We lay awake, staring at one another in the quiet of the early morning, tangled in bare limbs. Her hair is a mess, her makeup is smudged, but I made true on my promise to ravish. She’s beautiful. She’s perfect, my wife, who is a mess of a woman. She feels more than anyone else feels, loves more powerfully because she gives that love away so rarely, keeps that love for so few. She is full of grief and trauma, and some days, self-loathing. But she is healing, has healed, has helped me heal, both alone and alongside her. Some days she makes me so angry that I want to rip off my face and throw it at her, but then she makes me so enraptured by love and adoration that I can’t even think straight. 

There is no other woman for me. She is it, my one and only, the other half of my very being, this woman that I married at nineteen. 

My soulmate.

My wife.

The mother of any children we may be blessed to have, biologically or not. 

~Nesta~

“The last six chapters…” my editor sighs, and I know that I’m not going to like what’s coming next. “They lack depth. I feel like they’re just words on a page, there’s no real meaning there. I mean, there’s hardly any sex once they make up and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that’s kind of what you’re known for.”

I roll my eyes at her sarcasm, even though she can’t see my face. I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder as I shut my laptop and pick up my empty water glass. “So what. Rewrite with more fucking?”

“Rewrite with emotion,” she explains, as I leave my home office and go downstairs. I need a break from the screen. The second I got home from my office in the city, I instantly went upstairs and tucked myself away. 

“Fine,” I sigh, entering the kitchen. “When do you want rewrites by?”

My list of rewrites is growing. I had barely made this deadline. My anxiety only grows as she says, “Can you have them to me by Monday?”

“Monday?” I ask, exasperated. “Are you kidding me?”

“We have to get this to the publisher soon. We’re running out of time, Nesta.”

I lean against the counter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Alright. Yeah. Fine. Monday.” I hear the garage door open and quickly say, before she can give me any more bad news, “I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

I hang up just before the door opens and Nyx comes barreling in, his smile wide and his backpack massive on his little, four-year-old frame.

“Aunt Nesta!”

My anxiety lessens just a little bit as he runs into my open arms and I swing him around, peppering his cheeks with kisses. “Hi, my boy. Oh, I’ve missed you.”

He takes my face into his hands and whispers, “Uncle Cass got me a milkshake. Chocolate.”

“I’m so jealous,” I whisper back, and set him down.

We’ve picked Nyx up from preschool every other Tuesday since he started a year ago. We swap every other week with Azriel and Elain, since Tuesdays are the one day that Rhys and Feyre’s work schedules clash. I cherish the time with my nephew — he’s growing way too fast.

Cassian steps through the door a minute later, holding a bag of groceries and what looks like a half empty milkshake. 

“Hey,” he says, not even looking at me.

“Hey,” I reply, quietly. We’ve hardly spoken a word to each other in days.

I was home before he was on the night he wanted to cook me dinner. I was in bed before he was, too. I don’t remember the last time either of those things happened. The white flag I’d brought home in the form of a chocolate pie had long since been put in the fridge and forgotten and my feelings of mediation had been replaced with frustration at the late hour. When he got in bed and smelled like a frat house, I pretended to be asleep, stewing in my anger and sudden sense of resentment towards my husband, rather than snapping at him like I wanted to.

He was awake and gone before I even woke up the next morning.

“I got a couple of steaks and potatoes. Nyx loves the garlic mashed potatoes at the restaurant—” When he looks over his shoulder at my expression, his words fade away. “What?”

“I ordered pizza,” I say, slowly.

His body tenses, as I expected it would, and he starts putting everything he got from the grocery store into the refrigerator with a little too much force. 

“Go ahead and cook,” I say, trying to ease the tension, for Nyx’s sake. “We can put the pizza in the fridge and reheat it tomorrow—”

“It’s fine.” I know that tone. It’s final.

Giving up on the conversation and letting Cassian stew in his anger, I turn to Nyx with a smile. “Why don’t you go put your backpack and your shoes by the front door, buddy?”

He looks between us before nodding and exiting the room. 

“I’m sorry,” I start, carefully, when Nyx is out of the room. “I was just trying to make quick dinner plans.”

“It’s fine,” he says, closing the refrigerator door. “I should’ve called first.” 

“Cass—”

“Let’s just pretend while Nyx’s here, alright?” He turns to face me, those broad, inked arms crossed.

I lift a brow. “Pretend?”

“Yeah, pretend,” he says, voice low. I hate the look in his eyes, hate the distance that’s between us. “Pretend to be happy, or whatever. Pizza is great.”

Before I can say anything more, he leaves the room. A second later, I hear Nyx’s giggling as he’s tossed over his uncle’s shoulder.

Pretend.

I hate that we have to pretend, hate that we don’t  know how to simply be happy anymore. I hate that he didn’t expect to have a pleasant conversation with me, that his body tensed so quickly, that he couldn’t wait to get out of the room. At least I’m home and not at the office, or working upstairs. Even though I have a deadline to meet in less than a week. 

I don’t leave the kitchen until I hear the doorbell ring a few minutes later. I meet the pizza delivery boy on the porch and pay for our extra large meat lovers pizza and breadsticks before bringing it back to the kitchen and distributing it onto plates. 

The only thing that brings a smile to my face is Nyx coming into the room, thinking that a pizza night in is the best thing ever.

The three of us sit at the kitchen table and eat. At first, Nyx is the only one saying anything, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Cassian keeps glancing at me. I can feel his eyes, but fear returning his fleeting looks.

“Aunt Nesta?”

I blink, realizing that with the way Nyx is staring at me, he must have asked me a question and I completely missed it. I glance at Cassian to see if he’ll give me any assistance but his expression is…pained.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t hear you,” I say, painting a smile on my face.

Cassian clears his throat. “Nyx, why don’t you tell Aunt Nesta what color you worked on at school today?” From the tone of his voice, it’s clear that he hadn’t asked me about the color of the day.

“When are you and Uncle Cass gonna get me a baby to play with?”

My nephew’s big blue eyes gaze at me, full of curiosity and innocence, just like he is.

His question burns through me though, right to the core, and suddenly, I feel hollow.

Barren.

Empty.

“Aunt Lainy is getting me a baby, that’s what daddy said.” He picks up his pizza with both hands, tearing into it like a wild animal. “And that’s why her tummy is getting big. When are you getting a baby?”

I close my eyes and for a second, all I can see is blood. Blood staining bed sheets and a white, clinical examining room. Tears, and not just mine.

Fear and devastation and heartache and—

Fingertips graze my leg under the table and my eyes snap open, finding Nyx laughing at something Cassian had said. His own smile matches Nyx’s, but it’s strained, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second.

I have no idea what he’d said to derail our nephew’s curiosity, but I suddenly can’t pretend everything is alright at this moment.

Standing quickly, I pick up my plate and mumble, “I’ll be right back,” before heading for the small bathroom off the living room.

My breathing has quickened but I close my eyes and focus on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I grip the porcelain countertop. I convince the tears not to come — something I’m an expert of at this point in my life — and wait until my breathing is under control before I open my eyes and meet my reflection in the mirror. I can still hear Nyx’s giggles from the kitchen, and I silently thank my husband for doing what he does best…being the world’s best uncle and most obnoxious distraction. 

My reflection nearly make my tears start again.

The circles beneath my eyes are dark and my eyes are distant, bloodshot. I’ve lost weight recently, I can tell, and not the good kind. There’s nothing healthy about my pale skin and the way my collarbone is perfectly on display all of the sudden. After spending so many hours working, I haven’t been the best about taking time to eat and maintain my diet, my exercise. I can’t remember the last time I had gone to yoga or done any other sort of physical activity. I haven’t been taking care of myself.

I haven’t been taking care of my husband, either.

I know it. He knows it. We all know it, and we’re dancing around it, just like we dance around everything, but I can’t help it. I have worked hard for my career, and my obsessive mind is controlled by gaining success. 

A soft knock comes to the bathroom door. I clear my throat. “Yeah?”

Cassian’s soft voice comes through the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Be out in a sec.”

“Okay.” There’s a beat of silence. “Feyre’s on her way.”

I take a few more deep breaths as his footsteps vanish down the hall, then I’m opening the door and going back to the living room, like nothing is wrong.

Dinner is apparently over, the plates and pizza box cleaned off the kitchen table and leftovers stored away in the fridge. Bluey is playing on the television in the corner and Nyx is hanging over the arm of the couch, watching intently.

Something brushes along my arm and I jump, swearing under my breath as I move away, as if I’d been burned.

Cassian is standing there, his hand still outstretched, something like hurt written across his face. “Really, Nes?”

“You scared me.” I’m snapping, I have absolutely no reason to snap but my emotions are rubbed raw and I feel like I have no control over them or myself. “You snuck up on me.”

His eyes, already so different from the way they used to look at me, harden as he pulls away. “I was just making sure you were okay—”

“I told you I was fine.”

He nods, face like granite, turning away from me and heading into the living room. Without a word, he scoops up Nyx and plops down onto the couch, settling in to watch his show.

I stay put, staring at the two of them. They’re so cute, so comfortable…yet, I feel like I’m a shadow, watching from a distance. An outsider in my own home.

Guilt sweeps over me, but it’s subdued. Every emotion I feel has been diminished, numbed. I debate on joining them, on sitting beside them on the couch, joining them in their peace. But in my state of numbness, I know I would be of no good to them. I go back into the kitchen and find an unopened bottle of wine. After pulling free the cork, I pour myself a glass. Just before the rim touches my lips, the doorbell rings.

I hurry to the door before Cassian can get up off the couch and welcome my youngest sister inside. She smiles at her one and only child before greeting me, wrapping me in her arms.

“I feel like we haven’t talked in forever,” she says, before picking Nyx’s backpack up off the ground. “We need to get together soon. Me, you, Lainy.”

“Agreed,” I smile. At least, I smile the best that I can. “Do you want to stay for a while? Or…”

“No, that’s okay. Rhys will be home soon, and it’s almost little man’s bedtime.” As if on cue, Nyx runs into Feyre’s arms. 

“Mommy! I had a milkshake and pizza!” he yells, giddily. “Can we get ice cream?”

Feyre laughs quietly and I smile, just as Cassian approaches and gives my sister a hug. “I don’t think so, buddy,” Feyre says, calmly. “Shoes, then let’s go. Come on.”

Nyx groans but does as he's asked.

“Was he good?” Feyre looks from me to Cassian. 

“An angel,” Cassian says, smiling. I guess he would know more so than me. “As always.”

“Good,” she grins, and gives Cassian one last hug. After giving me a kiss on the cheek, she scoops Nyx into her arms. “Sunday, come over for lunch. Yeah?”

“Sounds good,” I say, mustering the best smile I can. We tell them both goodbye and then it’s just the two of us, standing in silence. 

We used to never have uncomfortable silences, but now here we are… the tension so thick that we can cut it with a knife.

I go to take a step back into the kitchen, but Cassian blocks my path. “Do you wanna talk about it now?”

“No.” The word is short, but adamant. 

Cassian, the stubborn bastard he is, isn’t accepting that answer. “Nesta, we should talk.”

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Know what? I don’t care what you want. I want to talk, we’re talking.”

My jaw locks but I don’t try to move again. Fine. He wants to talk, we’ll talk. “What do we have to talk about?”

Cassian takes a deep breath. “At dinner—”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“We have to.”

“No, we don’t!” I yell, my fists tightening at my sides. “We don’t have to talk about anything I don’t want to talk about. You can’t make me talk about shit that I don’t want to talk about, Cassian.” 

I can see the fury in his eyes, can sense how infuriated he is by the tension of his shoulders, but he doesn’t act on it. He simply says, as calmly as he can, “Nesta, please.”

“No,” I say, and now my hands are shaking. “I’m going to bed.”

“You never go to bed this early.”

“Fine. I’m going to write.”

I take one step, and that's all it takes. He explodes. “Damn it, Nesta! Talk to me!”

I don’t flinch. In order to flinch, you have to feel something, but I feel nothing. I meet Cassian’s crazed, desperate stare. “I don’t want to talk about dinner.”

“Then talk to me about something,” he begs, pleads. “Because I feel like we haven’t had a genuine conversation in months.”

“That’s not true.”

“It isn’t?” he asks, and I can tell he’s constraining himself. “Because I can’t recall a time when we weren’t snapping at one another, or your tone isn’t begging me to back the fuck off and mind my own business.” I open my mouth to reply, but he keeps going. “I can’t even ask if my wife is okay, because she doesn’t fucking respond, she just says she’s fine when she’s clearly not. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

I swallow, looking away from him.

I’m not fine. Not even close.

But he doesn’t know that. He can’t, nobody can.

I turn and continue heading for the stairs.

“I can’t do this anymore, Nes.”

The words are so quiet that I’m not quite sure if I hear him right. Turning around to look back at him, I see his eyes are on the floor. “You can’t do what?”

“This,” he says, gesturing between us. There’s something in his hazel eyes I don’t usually see there. “This pretending that we’re doing. I’m done with it.”

“What is with you and pretending?” I demand, finally snapping, my voice raising.

His jaw locks, and a fire I don’t usually see has enveloped his eyes. “Me and pretending…” He shakes his head. “Nesta, that’s all we’ve been doing. Nothing between us has been real in a long time.”

I swallow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I know what he’s talking about. Every word from his mouth makes perfect sense. I would never admit it, though. “I’m done,” he says, shaking his head. 

I swallow. “The hell are you talking about?”

“A divorce,” he spits. “I want a divorce.” 

A divorce.The words haunt me. They don’t register, don’t settle. “What?”

“I think we should separate,” he says, calmly, even though he looks anything but calm. 

I try to make sense of his words, try to understand where he’s coming from, but I can’t. “What?” I repeat, a little more strongly. 

Cassian’s eyes drift from mine as he looks at the floor. “This isn’t working, Nesta. Me. You. It’s not working.”

“Are you…” My words fall off as I shake my head. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” he begins, eyes on me. “No, I’m not fucking kidding you. Nesta, I don’t even know who you are anymore. Shit, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here, and I’m starting to think that it’s not worth it.”

“You don’t mean that,” I bite out. My chest is heaving. I might be hyperventilating, but I can’t focus on my body. Only his words. I repeat, through gritted teeth, “You don’t mean that.”

Cassian doesn’t reply, just heads to the coat closet off the living room, reaching inside and pulling out—

“You’re leaving?” I breathe, watching as he slings the duffel bag over his shoulder.

His voice is quiet, but he won’t look at me. “I think it would be best.”

He starts to leave, is heading for the kitchen, and to the garage where his truck waits.

He’d had a bag packed.

He’d planned this.

He’s serious.

“You promised!” My scream surprises even me, but Cassian freezes in the middle of the kitchen. He doesn’t turn to face me, but he pauses. I don’t waste my opportunity. “You promised, Cassian, through better or worse, that you would be here.”

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes connect with mine, and then he speaks the words that I swear are aimed at my soul. “So did you.” He stands there for only a few more heartbeats before he turns and continues heading for the door.

As it opens and closes, I stay put, listening as the garage door does the same. When all is quiet, I wait, hoping he’d change his mind, that the door leading to the garage would open back up and he’d come back in and say this was all a stupid prank.

But he doesn’t.

He continued running the heated barrel of a curling iron through the woman’s hair, but asked, “Okay?”

“So I’ve got this date tonight…” She began and his eyes snapped to hers. “I know I don’t have an appointment, but do you think you’ve got time to squeeze me into your books?”

The woman looked at Lidia like she was insane, and to be honest, she was. There was a month-long wait list to even sit in Ruhn Danaan’s chair for a consultation and the fact that she was turning up and asking for a walk in? Even if she was already one of his clients, she knew it was a few weeks out for a trim.

He frowned, almost completely ignoring the woman in his chair as he turned to face Lidia. He searched her eyes for a minute, and she wondered what it was he was thinking. At last, he said, “A date?”

She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. “If not, it’s fine, but I thought I’d—”

“Give me ten minutes. I’ll work you into my lunch break,” he said, and turned back toward his client. “If you wanted to get me a coffee in that ten minutes, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He shot her a subtle grin as she fought the urge to jump on him. He got back to work, and she ran across the street to a little cafe to get him a coffee. She knew he liked it black most of the time — an obvious guess based on the rest of his appearance and demeanor — but knew he occasionally wanted something more than just the bitter drink. She grabbed a handful of sugar and creamer just to be safe. The thought had her chuckling to herself as she made her way back across the street to the salon. 

Ruhn was wrapping up with his client so Lidia took a seat to wait. He was handsome in a completely non-traditional way. His hair was long, except for the part that was shaved, and he had more piercings than she could count. She knew many more laid beneath his clothes and couldn’t help as her eyes trailed along the tattoos that disappeared beneath his black t-shirt. He was dressed more casually than anyone else in the upscale salon. In fact, he looked like he didn’t fit in much, in his jeans and old black boots, but he surely brought in more clients than anyone else. One of the magazines did a spread on him a few years back and his career had skyrocketed, thanks to the unique cuts and colors he was now known for. Lidia had asked him about it once, about how he had gotten into his field, and he just shrugged and said that his mother was a hair stylist and his father, who was a dick, hated the idea of him getting into any sort of cosmetology once he had expressed interest in it in high school. 

So that’s exactly what he did, just to smite his old man.

And he ended up loving it. 

She hadn’t even noticed the woman leaving until the coffee was plucked from her hands and she looked up at him with a start.

He was smirking and inclined his head towards his now unoccupied station. “Ready?”

Jumping to her feet, Lidia smiled at him. “You really are the best.”

He led the way to the station and finished sweeping up the last of the hair from his last client. “If this date is really as important as you’re making it out to be, you’ve got to be looking your best.”

After sitting her down, Ruhn put the cape on her, despite only styling her hair. As he pulled the clip from it and let her blonde locks fall loose around her shoulders, he asked, “So tell me about this date. Who is he?”

She blushed as she met his gaze in the mirror as he dragged a brush through her hair, working the tangles free. “Well, we’ve known each other a while. He’s extremely creative and has a great work ethic. He’s funny and makes me smile and—”

“Is he hot?”

Lidia laughed, trying not to move her head so much and he sectioned her hair out and reached for the hot curling iron. “That’s not all that matters.”

“Bullshit,” he said, an eyebrow quirked in a way that told her he was the one full of a shit and was messing with her.

“Maybe to you,” she joked, but then added, “but yes, to answer your question, he is.”

“Hmmm.” He wrapped a section of her hair around the barrel. “Lucky you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d say he’s the lucky one. I’m a hell of a date.”

Ruhn chuckled, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “I’m sure. Where’s he taking you?”

Lidia chewed on her bottom lip. “Don’t know. He won’t tell me. Wants it to be a surprise.”

“Sounds like a dick move,” Ruhn muttered.

Lidia laughed. “I don’t know. I think it’s kind of romantic.” 

“What if he takes you somewhere shitty?” Ruhn pushed, meeting her eyes in their reflection once more. 

“Then I guess he’s not as good of a catch as I thought,” Lidia said, trying to keep still as he grabbed another section to curl. 

Ruhn raised a brow. She liked it when he did that. It suited him. “Sounds like you have high expectations.” 

She shrugged as he continued to make his way around her head. “Should I not?”

“Oh no, you should,” he said, with a small smile. “Don’t settle for anything or anyone. Let’s just hope this guy brings his A-game.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Lidia asked, humored. “Should I kick his ass to the curb?” 

“Absolutely,” he said, with no hesitation. “He’d better show up with flowers and a night planned to perfection. If he doesn’t impress you, doesn’t blow your mind, then he’s gone.”

“Noted,” she responded, doing her best not to smirk. “Anything else I should remember?”

“Hmm,” he mused, reaching for the hairspray to lock in the work he’d done. “Don’t sleep with him.”

Lidia’s mouth popped open as he adjusted her hair, tossing her a wink, and she looked around to see if anyone else had heard him. “Excuse me?”

“Make him work for it,” he said, setting down his curling iron and taking off the cape. With one more wink, he said, “Have a good time tonight.”

She was still shocked by what he’d told her that she could only stare at him. 

“My next appointment is in five minutes,” Ruhn added when she didn’t get up.

Lidia’s back straightened as she stood. “How much do I owe you?”

“Consider the coffee payment,” he said, eyes bright, and Lidia eyed him for another minute suspiciously before nodding.

“Thank you,” she said, turning towards the door.

“Welcome,” he grinned. “See you for your trim in a couple of weeks.”

Her eyes narrowed but Lidia said no more before leaving the salon. She drove back to her apartment with the radio playing quietly in the background, thinking about all of the so-called advice that Ruhn had given her. It was all she could think about as her afternoon went on. She still had a few hours before her date came to pick her up, so she spent half that time reading. After she felt enough time had gone by, she cleaned her face and reapplied her makeup a little more dramatically. Her hair looked phenomenal, and the little black dress that she slipped on completed the look. 

Ruhn was right. Her date better bring his A-game, because she looked hot as shit. She checked the time — she only had twenty more minutes before he arrived. He better not be late.

He wasn’t.

He was five minutes early. 

Lidia decided to let him wait out there a minute. Ruhn’s words came back to her: Make him work for it. She may as well start now. After looking at her reflection for another minute, Lidia took her time getting her clutch and opened it up, making sure all of the contents were there. Lipstick, money, I.D., hand sanitizer, a small pack of tissues. It’s what was always in her clutch. Nothing had changed. But she still took the time to count the contents and make sure she didn’t need anything more. 

After that, she took another long look at herself in the mirror.

Her date knocked once more.

After a deep breath, she smoothed out her dress that didn’t need smoothing out and strode towards the door. Excitement brewed in the pit of her stomach and she could hardly contain herself, although she would never let it show, as she opened the door. 

The jeans and black t-shirt were gone and in their place were a pair of slacks and a button down and blazer. The boots were still firmly in place, but as Lidia dragged her gaze over him top to bottom, she couldn’t miss the smirk on his face as he toyed with that damn lip ring.

Ruhn Danaan was something straight out of a magazine and by the stars, she was a lucky bitch.

“You’re early,” she said, pulling the door shut behind her and stepping closer.

“Wouldn’t want you to think I’m not bringing my A-game,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her towards him. She melted into his touch, turning her face up to him just as his lips met hers, unable to stop the smile blooming. After a moment, he pulled away. “You look absolutely beautiful. Ready?”

She nodded, but as he stepped back, she didn’t move. He glanced back at her with an eyebrow raised, finding a similar expression on her face. “What?”

“Where are my flowers?”

“Where are—?” His violet eyes lit up as he remembered what he’d said earlier. His grip on her hand tightened and he admitted, “On my kitchen counter. I sort of forgot them when I decided to come early.”

Lidia shook her head as she clicked her tongue. “I was told if I’m not impressed—” 

“I think you should wait to test that theory,” Ruhn interjected, and Lidia could help but laugh. “I promise you’ll get your flowers, but first…just wait to see what the rest of the night entails.” 

LIdia pretended to think on it. “I don’t know. Went to the salon. Got some pretty good advice. Pretty sure I’m supposed to leave you in the dust.”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmured and stepped closer, capturing her lips with his. Lidia sank into that kiss, not caring that he was currently ruining her lipstick. He broke that kiss a minute later but kept his arms around her waist as he asked, “Hungry?”

“Starving.” “Good.”

Ruhn took her across town to a new restaurant that they had never been to, but had raving reviews. It took months to get a reservation, and Lidia wanted to ask Ruhn how he made it possible, but she kind of liked the mystery of it all. 

They ate steak that was way too expensive and drank wine that had Lidia giggling - giggling - by the time that they left. She had never eaten food so good, had never tasted food so delicious. She was stuffed and tipsy, and amazed when Ruhn said their night wasn’t even close to being done. 

They took a walk through the city, hand in hand, pausing to kiss in dark corners until Lidia’s lipstick was nonexistent. 

By the time they were heading back to Ruhn’s apartment, Lidia felt a joy so overwhelming that she nearly felt like she was living in a dream and knew it had nothing to do with the wine from dinner. In fact, the wine was wearing off and she was getting tired. Nothing sounded better than slipping on one of Ruhn’s tees and snuggling up close to him in his bed until morning.

As they ascended the stairs to his door, Lidia asked, “Do you want to turn on something scary or something funny to watch?”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I thought we could do romance tonight.”

Blinking up at her boyfriend, Lidia stared. “Romance— what?”

Ruhn didn’t respond as they reached his door and he unlocked it, swinging it wide.

Lidia gasped as she took in the display before her.

Flickering tea candles sat atop every surface in the front room, illuminating the myriad of picture frames sat around, showcasing pictures, milestones and memories from their eight months together, while rose petals were on the floor. But not a scattering or a few tossed here and there.

There was an absurd amount of rose petals on the floor, so many that there were parts of the floor that seemed to be completely red.

A gentle hand in the small of her back had Lidia walking deeper into the living room, ignoring the petals in the floor to take in the rest of the scene around her.

“Ruhn…”

He said nothing and Lidia couldn’t take her eyes off of her surroundings as a million emotions swept through her mind and soul. When her vision blurred, she turned to face him.

And found him down on one knee.

“I’m not a traditional person by any means,” he began, quietly, “but I wanted to do this right.” Lidia swallowed, not trusting herself to speak. Ruhn smiled, his eyes bright. “I love you,” he said, and his voice was quiet, as if his nerves were taking away its strength. “And I know we haven’t been dating very long, not even a year, but I’ve known for a long time that you’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, however long it may be. You make me happy. And you scare me a little bit, which strangely turns me on.” Lidia huffed a laugh as a tear spilled down her cheek. Ruhn pushed on. “I can’t imagine this life without you. I want you, so badly, more than anything, to be my wife. And if you say yes, then I promise to spend everyday trying my damndest to make you the happiest woman alive, to be worthy of you.” He swallowed, and Lidia felt like she was dreaming. “Marry me,” he breathed. “Please.”

For a moment, she didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t say a thing, and Ruhn’s smile faltered, but then she began to laugh. It was a quiet laugh, but one that took complete control of her body and mind as she nodded. The tension in Ruhn’s shoulders faded as she said, “Yes. Yes!”

Before Ruhn could catch his breath, before he could even comprehend what she had said, his back was against the hardwood floor and Lidia was lying on top of him, her mouth pressed to his. His tongue swept against hers before she leaned back, contentedly, and he slid the ring he’d bought onto her finger.

They both stared at it for a moment in serene appreciation before Lidia fell into his arms again. 

“I love you,” she breathed, and he replied with the same words, full of love and triumph and excitement. 

They moved from the floor to the couch to the bedroom, and by the time they were done, Lidia’s hair was an absolute mess. 

But it was fine.