That does something dangerous to a man.
When she pulls me closer, when her breath goes uneven, when she whispers my name in that way she used to, I feel nineteen again.
Except it’s better. Because this isn’t new and fragile. This is chosen.
We match our rhythms and our breathing speeds up. I feel her clenching around me, her legs wrapping tighter around my waist, her nails digging in deeper.
“Fuck, Dan” She whispers. Which almost sends me spiralling over the edge. But I’m saving myself, we have to do this together.
I quicken my pace, reading her body and waiting for her to show me that she’s ready. After two long, deep thrusts I know she’s ready.
“Fuck, Dan I’m going to…”
Before she finishes her sentence I lose my composure and topple over the edge, taking her with me.
I have never felt anything like it.
Our sex and connection was incredible when we first got together but this is like nothing I have ever experienced before. Like the years of being apart, finally culminated in this one moment.
When it’s over and we’re both breathless, tangled up together, I don’t roll away like I sometimes do when exhaustion wins.
I stay.
I press my forehead to hers.
She’s flushed. Glowing. Hair everywhere. Completely unaware of how devastating she looks right now.
Her fingers trace lazy patterns over my chest, and I think about how close we came to losing this. To letting silence harden into something permanent.
I tighten my arms around her.
She shifts against me, satisfied and sleepy, and something deep in my chest settles.
This wasn’t just sex.
It was proof. Proof that she’s still here. Proof that I’m still here. Proof that the spark wasn’t dead, just buried.
I kiss the top of her head and breathe her in. I don’t want this to be a one-off. I don’t want tonight to be a fluke we talk about in six months like it was some rare event.
I want to earn this.
I want to deserve her.
As she drifts, warm and heavy against me, I make a quiet promise in the dark.
I won’t let her feel invisible again.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m fighting to keep my marriage afloat.
I feel like I’m inside it again.
Right where I’m meant to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMMA
I don’t know how it happens exactly. One minute, Dan and I are arguing about whose turn it is to clean out Ruby’s lunchbox (spoiler alert: it was his), and the next, we’re laughing, really laughing, over something stupid. It’s one of those moments where we forget to be tired, forget the never-ending to-do lists, and just are. And for the first time in a long time, something shifts. It’s small, like the tiniest spark reigniting a long-forgotten fire, but it’s there.
