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In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of our home and the joy of new beginnings, I felt a surge of hope for our future. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I knew we'd face them together – with a little help from our growing furry family.
Chapter 27
Maggie, our newest addition, had quickly become the heart of our home. Her tiny paws pattered across the hardwood floors as she followed me from room to room, her chocolate brown eyes wide with curiosity. In the afternoons, when the sun's harsh glare softened, I'd scoop her up and carry her out to the patio. There, amidst the lush grass, she'd tumble and play, her puppy energy seemingly boundless.
Trouble, had surprised us both with his easy acceptance of Maggie. Despite the shift in attention, he seemed content to share his domain. Often, I'd find them curled up together in one of the plush beds scattered throughout the penthouse, or batting playfully at the same toy. I'd long since abandoned my attempts to keep their playthings organized; Trouble had a knack for liberating them from whatever container I chose.
As I stood in our walk-in closet, fingers trailing over hangers of designer clothes, I marveled at how much had changed in just a week. Oliver and I had already attended two therapy sessions, each one peeling back another layer of his carefully guarded past. It felt like we were finally moving forward, rebuilding our relationship on a foundation of honesty and understanding.
Today marked a significant milestone: brunch at The Diamond Square with my family. My parents, Matthew, Tova, Finley, Sadie, and Teagan would all be there. When I'd told them about our reconciliation, their lack of surprise had been almost anticlimactic. Their feelings, however, were far from simple.
Matthew's reaction had been particularly intense. During a hushed phone call earlier in the week, he'd confided his initial desire to beat the shit out of Oliver after our separation, especially in light of what happened with the baby. His promise to remain civil came with a caveat: Oliver had a lot of explaining to do. I understood his protective instinct, even as I hoped for peace.
Lost in thought, I barely registered the passage of time until Oliver's voice broke through my reverie.
"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asked, his head appearing around the closet door. He looked devastatingly handsome in tan slacks and a lavender dress shirt, a purple tie adding a touch of elegance.
I turned to him, feeling suddenly vulnerable in my state of undress. "I don't know what to wear," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
He looked hungrily at my nude lace bra and panties. "You better make a decision before I strip you naked and give you a pre-brunch fucking."
I groaned, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "Stop that."
"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence as his eyes roamed over my body.
"Trying to entice me. We didn’t make love last night," I complained, crossing my arms over my chest.
"That was not my fault," he countered, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
"You were on the phone so long that I fell asleep," I said, frustration creeping into my tone.
"It couldn’t be avoided," he explained, a sigh escaping his lips.
"You have people to handle negotiations, don’t you?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow.
"I do, but this one is particularly sensitive," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.
"Why?" I pressed, wanting to understand.
"It just is," he replied, his tone firm. "Now get dressed before we’re late."
He left the closet, leaving me to pick out my outfit. I selected a short peach dress with spaghetti straps, perfect for the hot weather of late June. As I slipped it on, I called after him, "This better be worth it."
"It always is with you," he replied, a smile in his voice as he returned to the bedroom.
I couldn't help but smile back, the anticipation of the day ahead mingling with the lingering desire between us.
The private room at The Diamond Square buzzed with subdued conversation as Oliver and I made our entrance. We were the last to arrive, and I felt a prickle of anxiety as I scanned the faces of my family members, searching for any signs of hostility towards my husband. To my relief, their expressions were open and welcoming. I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding as we took our seats.
Oliver, ever the gracious host, gestured expansively. "Please, order whatever you'd like," he announced, his voice warm and inviting.
While the others eagerly perused the menu, I opted for a simple Caesar salad with grilled chicken on a bed of mixed greens. I knew Oliver well enough to anticipate the array of macarons and confections he'd have brought out for dessert, and I wanted to save room for the sweet treats.
As we settled into our meal, the conversation naturally divided. Oliver, Anders, Matthew, and Finley dove into a discussion about the stock market, their voices a low hum of financial jargon.
Meanwhile, my mother, Sadie, and I couldn't take our eyes off Teagan, my niece who had recently celebrated her first birthday. She toddled around the room with determined unsteadiness, eliciting soft coos and chuckles from us.
When Teagan made a beeline for the serving table, her tiny hands reaching for the white linen tablecloth, Sadie and I exchanged a glance and rose in unison to intercept her.
