Page 141 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

Valeria

Sunday, December 25

On Christmas morning, Dante wakes me by pressing a kiss to my shoulder. A gentle gesture, with no ulterior motive.

He’s taking things slowly, taking nothing for granted. And that restraint touches me.

The night before was extraordinary, but it doesn’t erase the resentment or the wounds between us.

Even so, I curl up against him, enjoying his presence and the warmth of his skin.

Then we get up to take a shower. As he steps beneath the hot water, I realize I haven’t told him everything.

Fuck.

Suddenly, I feel terribly vulnerable—and not because I’m naked.

Completely unaware, he reaches out a hand, inviting me to join him.

I take a panicked step back and blurt out:

“I don’t put my head underwater anymore.”

He understands without me needing to say more. A shadow crosses his expression, but he pushes it away immediately.

With a steady motion, he detaches the handheld showerhead and offers it to me.

“Show me how you do it,” he says softly.

So I show him how I wet my hair by tilting my head back.

He understands immediately and gently takes the showerhead from my hands, continuing to wet my hair with careful, steady movements.

Without a word, he fixes the showerhead lower against my shoulders while he takes soap to wash me.

The softness of his gestures brings tears to my eyes.

I think I’m hopelessly in love with this version of him.

We finish washing and barely have time to drink coffee and get ready before lunch at Bernadette and Arnaud Perez’s house.

While he buttons his shirt, I shamelessly stare.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he says, amused, “we’re going to be late.”

I sigh dramatically and go search through my wardrobe for something to wear.

I’m still deciding when he asks:

“Does this work?”

How exactly am I supposed to answer whether his tailored midnight-blue suit—the one that highlights every line of his athletic body—is appropriate for a family Christmas lunch?

“Uh... yes.”

He laughs.

“Careful. You’ve got a little drool right there.”