43. Aubrey

43

Aubrey

SIX MONTHS LATER

I check my watch for the third time, groaning as I turn back to the mirror and fumble with my earrings. "Sean, if you don't get a move on, I'm leaving without you!"

The bathroom door swings open, releasing a cloud of steam along with my half-dressed husband. His shirt hangs open, revealing the kind of abs that should be illegal, and his hair is still damp from the shower. The smirk on his face tells me he knows exactly what he's doing.

"You wouldn't be running late if you'd taken me up on that shower invitation." He saunters over, plucking the earring from my fingers. "My way would have been more fun."

"Your way is why we're always late." I try to snatch the earring back, but he holds it just out of reach, his eyes trailing appreciatively over my new black dress.

"Worth it every time." His free hand slides around my waist, pulling me against him. "You look incredible, by the way. Almost too good to leave the house."

"Sean..." My protest dies as his lips find that spot behind my ear. The contrast of his warm mouth and cool water droplets from his hair sends shivers down my spine.

"Mm?" His stubble grazes my neck. "You were saying?"

"That you're impossible." But I'm already tilting my head to give him better access.

"Impossibly irresistible?" He fastens my earring for me with surprising gentleness, then spins me to face him. "Impossibly charming?"

"Impossibly full of yourself." I push against his chest, but we both know I don't mean it. "And if you don't finish getting dressed, we'll miss our reservation."

"Worth it." He captures my lips in a kiss that makes me forget about reservations entirely. When he pulls back, his eyes have darkened. "We could order in."

I smooth my hands up his chest, enjoying the way his breath catches. "Nice try. But I didn't get all dressed up to stay home."

"You could keep the dress on," he suggests, fingers tracing the zipper at my back. "For a while, anyway."

"Sean Ice." I step back, giving him my best stern look. "Clothes. Now."

He sighs dramatically but starts buttoning his shirt. "You know, most wives would be flattered by this much attention."

"Most wives haven't seen you try to get out of every dinner reservation for the past month." I turn back to the mirror, hiding my smile. "Some of us actually like to eat food in public occasionally."

"I like eating." The heat in his voice makes me blush. "Just prefer doing it in private."

"You're incorrigible."

"You love it."

And God help me, I do.

When I’m finally dressed—a fitted sweater, my best jeans, and ankle boot—I turn to find Sean waiting by the door, looking every bit as rugged and handsome as the day I met him.

He’s in dark jeans and a navy button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, and I swear I’m halfway in love all over again.

“Ready, Mrs. Ice?” he asks, offering me his arm with a wink.

“Oh, please. Like you could handle me any other way.” With that, I slip my arm through his, the two of us exchanging another quick kiss.

Together, we head downstairs. Emma’s on the couch with Luke, the two of them deep in conversation about something I can’t quite catch. But Luke’s face lights up when he sees us, leaping to his feet with all the energy of a little firecracker.

“Uncle Sean! Look!” he says, running over with his latest crayon drawing in hand, which is—surprise, surprise—a hockey game.

Sean crouches down, taking the drawing in with a soft smile. “Looks like you’ve got the whole team here,” he says, tracing the little stick figures that Luke’s colored in with bright jerseys and tiny hockey sticks. “I see myself, but where’s your player?”

Luke grins, tapping the page with his finger. “Right here! I’m number eleven!”

“You’re number one, kid.” Sean ruffles Luke’s hair affectionately.

I watch them together, my heart swelling at the easy bond they share.

“Alright, kiddo,” Sean says, handing Luke back his drawing. “Take care of Emma and Pokey for us, okay?”

Luke salutes, his face serious. “Yes, sir!”

Emma waves us off with a smile, and we head out into the crisp night. L’Etoile, the restaurant we picked, is cozy but lively, the kind of place that feels intimate without trying too hard. A place where the lighting makes everyone look good and the wine list is longer than the menu. We settle into a corner booth, and right away Sean starts watching me with that same smile that’s both infuriating and magnetic.

Over appetizers, Sean regales me with stories from Luke's latest adventure at the ranch, complete with impressions of our son trying to explain to Emma why horses need shoes but don't wear socks. The wine is perfect, the food is better, and watching Sean's eyes crinkle when he laughs makes my heart flutter like a teenager in love.

"Remember the first time we came to L’Etoile?" he asks as our entrees arrive.

"You mean when you knocked over the wine trying to impress me with your hockey stories?"

"Hey, you were already married to me anyway." He cuts into his steak, but I notice he's been getting quieter, more thoughtful as the meal progresses. Something's on his mind.

"Okay," I say, setting down my wine glass. "What is it?"

He blinks, caught. "What's what?"

"You've got that look. The one that means you're overthinking something."

"I have a look?"

"You have several. This one's my least favorite because it usually means you're worrying about something instead of just talking to me."

He traces the rim of his water glass, and my stomach tightens. "I want to talk about Luke."

My heart stumbles. "What about Luke?"

"About him calling me Uncle Sean." His eyes meet mine, serious now. "About how much longer we're going to wait to tell him the truth."

The air feels thinner suddenly. "Sean..."

"He's asking questions now, Aubrey. He's in that phase you're always talking about—the 'why' stage. Sometimes he even slips and calls me Daddy. Yesterday he asked me why Tommy has a daddy but he doesn't."

My throat tightens. "What did you say?"

"I changed the subject. Like I always do." There's an edge of frustration in his voice. "But I don't want to keep doing that. I want..." He takes a deep breath. "I want to be his dad. Not just legally, not just on paper. I want him to know me as his father."

"I know." My voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"Do you? Because sometimes I wonder if you're still waiting for me to disappear."

The truth of it hits like a physical blow. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" His hand finds mine across the table. "Talk to me, Aub. Help me understand why we're still doing this."

I stare at our linked fingers, at the wedding ring that should make everything simple but somehow doesn't. "I was protecting him."

"From me?"

"From change. From confusion. From..." I swallow hard. "From losing you again."

"Hey." His grip tightens. "Look at me."

I do, finding nothing but love in those blue eyes—Luke's eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere. Ever. I know why you made the choices you did back then. But we're here now, we're married, and Luke..." He smiles softly. "Luke's the best thing that's ever happened to either of us. Don't you think he deserves to know how wanted he is? How loved?"

Tears prick at my eyes. "What if we tell him and he doesn't understand? What if it confuses him more? He's only four, Sean."

"Almost five," he corrects gently. "And yeah, he'll have questions. He always has questions. But we'll answer them together."

I take a shaky breath. "You really want to do this?"

"More than anything." He brings my hand to his lips. "But only if you're ready."

Looking at him now, at the hope and love and certainty in his expression, I realize something: I am ready. More than that, I want this—want to see Sean's face when Luke calls him 'daddy' for the first time, want to stop pretending our family is anything less than what it is.

"Okay," I whisper.

His eyes widen. "Okay?"

I nod, a smile breaking through my tears. "Let's tell him. Tomorrow."

The waiter chooses that moment to approach. "Can I interest you in our dessert menu?"

Sean's eyes never leave mine, that familiar heat returning to his gaze. "No need. We'll have dessert at home." The suggestion in his voice makes me blush.

He helps me up, pulling me close enough to whisper in my ear. "Yeah?" he asks, making sure.

"Yeah," I breathe back. "Take me home."

We barely make it through the front door before his lips find mine, and I realize dinner might have been overrated after all.

Tomorrow, we'll tell our son the truth. Tonight? Tonight is just for us.

***

When we finally get home, the house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the TV coming from the living room. Luke and Emma are curled up on the couch together, fast asleep, with Luke's tiny hand clutching her sweater as he snores softly. Pokey's there too, snoozing peacefully on his favorite spot.

Sean's hand slips around my waist as we watch them, the scene so sweet it nearly brings tears to my eyes. The floorboard creaks under our feet, and Emma stirs, blinking awake with a sleepy smile.

"He insisted on waiting up for you," she whispers, carefully extracting herself from Luke's grip. "Finally crashed about twenty minutes ago."

"I'll take him up," Sean murmurs, scooping Luke into his arms. Our son barely stirs, just nuzzles into Sean's chest with a soft sigh that makes my heart melt.

"I should head home," Emma says, gathering her things quietly.

"Stay in your room tonight," I say, following Sean toward the stairs. "It's too late to walk home, even with your bodyguard." Pokey wags his tail at that, ever-proud of his protective duties.

"Please," she scoffs, already heading up ahead of us. "But since you insisted..." She gives us a sleepy wave before disappearing down the hall to her usual room.

As we reach Luke's bedroom, his eyes flutter open.

"Mommy? Uncle Sean?" Luke's sleepy voice makes us both pause.

Sean gently lowers him to his bed, but Luke's fingers stay curled in Sean's shirt. "Hey, buddy," Sean says softly. "Did we wake you?"

"I was waiting for you." Luke rubs his eyes with his free hand. "Did you bring me a dessert?"

Sean's eyes find mine over Luke's head, a silent question in them. I nod, my heart racing with certainty. This is the moment.

I laugh quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Not tonight, baby. But we do have something special to tell you."

Sean settles on Luke's other side, and our son looks between us with sleepy curiosity. "Is it about my drawing? Emma said it was the best hockey picture ever."

"It's about family," Sean says, his voice gentle but slightly shaky. "About our family."

I take a deep breath, finding Sean's eyes again. He nods, encouraging. "You know how you asked Sean about Tommy's daddy the other day?" I begin, my heart racing.

Luke nods. "Tommy says his daddy takes him fishing. But I don't need fishing 'cause I have Uncle Sean, and he takes me skating which is better."

I feel tears prick at my eyes as Sean clears his throat. "About that, buddy... what would you think if I wasn't actually your uncle?"

Luke's brow furrows. "But you're always here. And you give the best hugs. And you teach me hockey."

"That's because," I whisper, stroking Luke's hair, "Sean isn't your uncle. He's your daddy."

The room goes quiet. Luke looks at Sean, then at me, then back at Sean. "Really?"

Sean's voice is thick with emotion. "Really really, buddy. I'm your dad."

"Is that... is that okay?" I ask, holding my breath.

Luke sits back, his little face serious as he processes this. "Does Emma know?"

"Not yet, buddy," Sean says softly. "But Grandpa Jack does. We wanted you to know before telling Emma and Pokey."

Luke's brow furrows. "How come Grandpa knew and I didn't?"

I stroke his hair gently. "Because Grandpa Jack is Daddy's daddy, baby. He knew all along."

"But why didn't he tell me?"

Sean pulls Luke onto his lap. "Because that was something special for Mommy and me to tell you."

"But why?"

"Because," I say, watching Sean's eyes get misty, "sometimes grown-ups need time to figure things out first. Like how I needed time to know that Sean would be the very best daddy for you."

"Why did you need time?"

"Well, buddy," Sean says softly, "sometimes the best things in life take a little time to get just right. Like when we're making hot chocolate, and we have to wait for it to cool down—"

"So we don't burn our tongues!" Luke finishes, proud of knowing this.

"Exactly. And now everything's just right."

Luke looks at me then, his bottom lip trembling slightly. "Mommy, will you still love me the same?"

"Oh, baby." I pull him close, my heart breaking. "I'll love you even more, because now we're all a real family together."

He turns to Sean, his voice small. "Will you love me more now that you're my daddy?"

Sean's voice catches. "Buddy, I've loved you with my whole heart since the day I met you. Being your daddy just means now you can tell Tommy that all those fun things we do together, those are your daddy-and-son adventures."

"Like hockey? Tommy's gonna be so jealous 'cause his daddy only knows fishing, but my daddy knows hockey!"

"Yes!" Sean grins, but catches my pointed look.

"We don't want to make our friends jealous, baby. Maybe sometime you can invite Tommy to come to hockey with you and your daddy?"

"Your mom's right, buddy. That's an even better idea."

"And I get to keep you both?"

"Forever and ever," Sean promises, wrapping his arms around us both.

Luke launches himself at Sean, tiny arms wrapping around his neck. "You're the best daddy ever!"

I watch them embrace, tears flowing freely now, until Luke reaches out and pulls me into their hug too. We stay like that, our little family, wrapped up in each other and this perfect moment.

"Can I tell Emma tomorrow?" Luke mumbles against Sean's chest, already drifting back to sleep. "She's gonna be so 'cited... and Pokey too!"

"Of course you can, buddy," Sean says, laying him back down. "First thing tomorrow."

We tuck him in together, and as we turn to leave, Luke's sleepy voice stops us again. "Love you, Mommy. Love you... Daddy."

Sean's hand finds mine in the darkness, squeezing tight. "Love you too, son," he whispers back.

In the hallway, I collapse against Sean's chest, overwhelmed by the perfection of it all. "That went better than any planned speech ever could have."

He kisses my forehead, holding me close. "Sometimes the best moments are the ones we don't plan."

"You mean like us?"

"Exactly like us." He tips my chin up, and I see tears in his eyes too. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me everything I never knew I needed."

I rise up on my toes to kiss him softly. "Let's go to bed."

"Lead the way, Mrs. Ice."

As we head to our room, I glance back at Luke's door, my heart so full it might burst. Sometimes the scariest decisions lead to the most beautiful moments. And this? This was perfect.