𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚 Marsden, beloved wife to the best man ever and soon to be mother wasn't expecting much. She finally had it made, and that's saying something for a former, poor introvert with a broken home. But there was one thing she didn't expect. In fa...
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ƬΉΣ ΛЩΛKΣПIПG
|ADARA|
"Took you long enough."
He smiles as he greets me. His amber eyes lightening into a golden hue the way it always does, like in this moment he had just discovered the oasis in the desert. I call it the zing. A sparked love that feels new at every glance, and stronger at every touch.
"I'm sorry. A parent was running late so I had to watch over her kid," I say, as I shrug off my coat and join him on the recliner in his crazy, opulent living room that my yearly salary wouldn't cover. Not even a bit. Over the years I tried not to let my 'tasteless,' (his parent's word) poor upbringing show, but Blake had shut that down the moment we got together. Now married, I don't know why I ever thought that the daily caviar on toast was ever a useless dent in the economy. I just know that I dislike the taste the same and that it's the equivalent of butter here, just like the penny weight reminder of my Tiffany ring as it catches on the thread of my Burberry scarf.
"Remind me again why I'm teaching a bunch of butt-scratching brats?" I complain as I snuggle into his embrace. Cedar and mint assault my nose in the best way, I'll never forget this smell. Some may say that the smell of domestic food and freshly laundered linen means that you're home, or the way the plush give of your favorite couch pulling you into blissful dreams does. But I'd say home was the way he looked at me. The zing. I once again wonder how I ever got so lucky. It's like he's been crafted from some Grecian stone and I, the by-product. I'm greeted with a kiss, soft and drugging. I'm home.
"Try saying that three times. It might summon Mia. She'll never let you cover for her again, once she hears you insulting her precious children."
"Oh please, tell your sister that children aren't angels. One stared right at me while picking his nose and wiped it on his classmates shirt."
"What sister? I don't recall having a sister," he feigns, as he sniffs the air.
Mia is Blake's adopted sister. In fact he has two siblings. Formerly being from a two-child family with the constant bro wars between Blake and Cole to a gradual full house, Blake adores Mia. A sister she remains until they somehow piss each other off, in those instances she's not a sister at all. Sibling rivalry.
I roll my eyes but a part of me feels jealous that they have that bond that I lack with my own sister who pissed off a year ago without a single note of goodbye. I thought I meant more to her than that but after years of trying to get through to her she completely blocked me off.
"Well tell her I'm done volunteering. No child is worth going through school again,' I shudder. He chuckles in response as his large hands rub along my flat belly.
"Not even our child?"
"Oh yes. I just can't wait for the stage when the little gremlin plays football by day and swims broad strokes in my belly by night. Fun."
