I was selective now about which jobs I took. I didn’t want modeling to consume my life. But the opportunities that came my way were extraordinary, and I’d learned to embrace this unexpected chapter.
“Come on,” I said, kissing both their foreheads. “Let’s go get those pancakes before Dad eats them all.”
Downstairs, Mark stood at the stove, spatula in hand, wearing the “World’s Best Dad” apron Noah had got him for Father’s Day. He turned as we entered, and his whole face lit up.
“There’s my beautiful wife.”
He set down the spatula and crossed to me, pulling me into a kiss that made Brook groan.
“Gross, Dad!”
“So gross,” Noah agreed, already climbing onto his chair.
Mark’s hand slid down and pinched my ass—just like he used to.
“Still gross!” Brook called out.
We laughed, and Mark kissed me again before returning to the stove.
I sat at the table in our new kitchen—spacious, bright, nothing like the cramped apartment in Paris or even our old house. This was the mansion Mark had insisted on buying when we’d returned from France. “You deserve space,” he’d said. “Space for your studio, for the kids, for us.”
The kids devoured their pancakes with the single-minded focus only children possess, then grabbed their backpacks.
“Love you, Mom!” Brook hugged me tight.
“Love you too, baby.”
“Love you, Mommy! Love you, Dad!” Noah was already halfway out the door.
“Love you both! Have a great day!” Mark called after them.
The door slammed. Sudden, blessed quiet.
Mark turned to me with that look in his eyes—the one that still made my stomach flip after all these years.
He crossed the kitchen, pulled me up from my chair, and lifted me onto the counter.
“Now, where were we?” he murmured, his lips finding mine.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, kissing him back, running my fingers through his hair. We made out like teenagers, all hands and heat and breathless laughter.
Then I glanced at the clock and pushed him back gently. “Don’t you have work?”
Mark grinned. “My office is in the other room. I have exactly three steps to commute.”
Mark had taken a position that allowed him to work from home, to be present for the kids, to give me the freedom to pursue my career without guilt.
He’d kept every promise.
I pulled him close for another kiss, softer this time. When we broke apart, I looked into his eyes.
“Do you know what today is?”
Mark thought for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Six months. The contract.”
“Six months,” I confirmed.
His expression turned anxious. “How did I do?”
