Page 106 of The Devil’s Lair

Rebecca’s gaze flicks to mine, and her expression shifts. She knows what the moment means. For me. For us. For Isla.

This right here… this is what I never thought I’d have. A family of my own.

“Daddy, pancakes.”

The word lands somewhere ahead of how fast my brain can compute. My lungs stop pumping air and my heart stutters to a halt. I find the strength to turn my head and look at my wife.

With a smile, she mouths, “You okay?”

I can only nod. Because if I try to speak, I’ll cry.

The three of us make our way to breakfast, with Isla’s hand tucked in mine and Rebecca at my side where she belongs. Every few steps, her hand brushes against my hip like she’s checking I’m still here and I’m still okay.

Honestly, I’m doing the same thing. In a matter of a few hours, everything has changed. It’s not just about the sex or about the fact I can stand touch, embrace it, welcome it, even. It’s the closeness, the intimacy with another human being you’ve opened yourself up to and found the very thing you didn’t even know you needed.

Christian and Grace are already at the dining table. Grace has her head tipped back, laughing at something my brother murmured in her ear. I glance at Rebecca and a silent message passes between us. We know what that’s like because we’ve discovered it for ourselves.

Saskia sits across from them, shoveling eggs into her mouth as though she’s been told there’s a shortage and someone’s on their way to steal them. She waves a greeting, drops her fork, and downs half a glass of juice, then shoots to her feet.

“Morning. Sorry. Gotta go.”

“Great to see you, sis,” I call out as she beelines for the exit. “Thanks for the chat. Illuminating as always.”

She stops, pivots, checks Isla isn’t looking, flips me off, then strides from the room.

I chuckle, watching her go, then turn to Grace and Christian. “What is going on with her these days?”

Christian shrugs. “Beats me. I agree, though, she’s acting weird, even for Saskia.” He chuckles, earning a glower from Grace.

“Saskia is not weird.”

I chuckle, too. “Saskia is definitely weird. It’s part of her charm.” I pour a cup of coffee and one for Rebecca, then hoist Isla onto my lap. “Do you have any idea what she’s being so secretive about?”

“No,” Grace says. “Nor do Vicky or Imogen. I asked them. We’ve asked Saskia, too, and she just taps the side of her nose and says, ‘You’ll see.’”

“Maybe it’s a guy?” I muse.

“If it is, I pity the poor bugger,” Christian drawls, earning a belt on the arm from Grace.

“Stop being mean about your sister. She’s fabulous.”

Christian just grins in that goofy way of his. Grace raises both hands in front of her face, blocking him out. “I’m not looking at you. If I do, you’ll make me laugh, and you don’t deserve a laugh for being mean about Saskia.”

Christian shifts closer and nuzzles her neck. “Aww, Duchess. You know you love me.”

“Pancakes.” Isla points at the stack in the middle of the table.

A grin pulls at my lips. “You and your pancakes. How many?”

“Two.”

“With berries?”

She wrinkles her nose, giving my question proper consideration, then shakes her head and points at the maple syrup. Sometimes she’ll use her words, and other times she’ll revert to her previous communication methods. Both work for me. I understand her perfectly. She’ll speak when she wants to. I’m not about to coax her to talk when she’d rather not.

“What are you wearing tonight, Rebecca?” Grace asks.

I groan, my shoulders drooping. With everything going on between Rebecca and me and the fucking Southalls, I’d forgotten about tonight’s ball. Dad hosts a couple each year, and while they’re a pain, most of the time I don’t mind going. I’m about to voice my disappointment when I catch Rebecca’s expression and swallow every word I was about to spill.