I smile and open my eyes, the morning sunlight glinting across Mila’s naked body. Even though her belly is still flat now, it will swell soon with our child. I sort of fucking love it. I palm it, my other hand stroking her back. She’s perfect. Slender, graceful. Mine.
“You’re my peace,” I tell her honestly.
“I beg to differ,” she arches an eyebrow. “Your name actually means peace. You’re mine.”
“Well, I’m yours and you’re mine. How about that?” I offer the compromise, and she snuggles into the crook of my arm.
“Ok.”
“Did you get much sleep last night?” I trail my fingers along her arm. She’s sleep sensitive. If she’s upset, sleep eludes her.
“Nope. But you did. You snored into my ear all night.”
Even her scowl is cute.
I nip at her nose.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not. But that’s ok. You shouldn’t have to be miserable too.”
“I want to be, if you are,” I tell her seriously. She grins at me.
“You’ve gotten kind of sickening, Pax Tate.”
“I know,” I agree, and I do. I’m a shell of the man I used to be, but I’m a much better man now. No one would disagree with that.
“I wanted to go to Angel Bay this week,” I tell her. I’d kept my beach-house there, the loft that overlooks Lake Michigan. It’s where Mila and I met. It’s still our respite from the world. We retreat there whenever our schedules allow.
“Yeah, me too,” she says. “But there’s no way you can fly in your condition, Crash.”
I roll my eyes.
“Maybe a mortal man couldn’t, but you forget who you’re speaking to.”
She’s the one rolling her eyes now.
“Uh-huh. We’ll have to go later in the year. Right now, we have to think about your grandfather’s will.”
“Yeah.” I stare out the window, at the white sky. “I don’t want to live in his house,” I tell her honestly. “It’s not a home, it’s a mausoleum. He even still has my mother’s room there, preserved exactly like it was when she left for college. It freaks me out.”
Mila nods. “Yeah. But hey, he didn’t say we can’t change the house, Pax. We can remodel. We can make it ours.”
“You want to do this?” I stare at her. She shrugs.
“Babe, it’s not like that’s a real a question. We kind of have to. And it’s only for five years. What’s five years in the span of a life? Not much. And maybe we’ll end up liking it.”
I sigh. “I doubt it. I don’t like having staff hanging around. It’s weird.”
She nods. “I do agree with that. But it is what it is, babe. We’ll figure it out.”
“You’re the best wife,” I announce. She nods.
“Yes. I’m glad you know it.”
“I do.”
“I’ll call my father,” I sigh as I roll out of bed. My shoulders throb and my ribs contract, but I ignore it.