A few days after Isla’s last piano lesson and my accidental encounter with Jenny, I took Isla back to the hospital, where the doctor checked her up again to see how her leg was doing. I knew she was vibrating with excitement and anxiety as she waited for the doctor’s verdict, and it was connected to her want to finally get walking on her own two feet. She was getting a bit impatient at home because of it, and I guess Isla wanted to finally do the things that she couldn’t do when she was on cast, like go to school and take long walks at the park.

When the doctor announced that her leg was good and they could finally remove her cast today, she was practically bouncing with happiness and could barely be contained. I had to calm her down and talk her through the removal. Eventually, Isla became fascinated with the process and finally calmed down enough to watch as the cast was sawed off. Her leg was prodded with some equipment, then she was asked to do some test walking right there, which she did eagerly. To my relief, she could walk straight with no problem at all, though the doctor advised me to get her lots of rest in between walking and not to overdo it.

When we finally got out of the hospital with the colorful cast in hand, Isla pleaded with me that she wanted to walk and get some fresh air instead of going home right away. An idea popped in my head—one that I’d been setting aside as I became busy, but realized that the perfect time had now come. I asked her if she wanted to accompany me somewhere important, and Isla only got more excited as we walked over to the place I wanted to check out.

It was only a few minutes’ walk from the hospital to the community center, and the questions started once I got to the lobby. I knelt down and explained to Isla about my talk with Jenny, asking her what she thought about it. Isla tilted her head as if thinking it over. Then a grin broke on her face as she eagerly nodded her head.

“I think that’s a good idea!” she exclaimed. I laughed as my stepdaughter was suddenly the one dragging me through the pathway to the main center.

I was given a form to fill out, and we sat down on one of the stone tables at the back garden. While I filled out the basic information, Isla amused herself by watching squirrels chase each other around a tree, then declaring that she was going to write a story about squirrels next. I smiled and kept writing, then chose the course I wanted to take before finally submitting it to the registration center.

A few minutes later, I was officially signed up, and I found that I couldn’t stop the grin from my face even if I tried. It was such a refreshing feeling, and I knew I made the right decision.

Because we both didn’t want to go home yet, Isla and I decided to just drive around and enjoy the scenery. It was a Friday, and the removal of the cast meant she could be back in school on Monday.

I asked her about all the things she wanted to do once she got back in school, and Isla said she really just wanted to be back with her school friends and to listen to the lessons real time. She missed being there when the teacher was discussing something interesting, saying that it didn’t really translate well when she just had to do boring assignments without any interaction.

To my surprise, Isla also thanked me for being so patient with her, admitting that her mother kind of hated it when she talked too much or wanted to do things that weren’t according to schedule. I frowned at this but made no comment, knowing that no matter what I did or said, Evelyn was still her mother in the long run and it couldn’t be changed. Evelyn was also still part of Isla’s schedule, though she opted to leave Isla with us for a month due to some traveling she had to do with her husband. That was fine with me, as I wanted to spend more time with Isla, anyway. But I would be civil as long as I could, and I would keep treating Isla like she was my own kid.

When we got home, we had some chicken noodle soup and tuna sandwich on the porch, reading a storybook and just lazing around. I promised Isla I would take her grocery shopping with me tomorrow, and I knew she was excited about stretching her legs down the aisles.

After dinner, we got some mint chocolate ice cream in cones and just kept sitting on the porch, enjoying the cool weather. There were stars in the sky and a crescent moon, and it was just perfect.

Isla grew sleepy around nine, so I suggested that we get inside and ushered her in. We did our usual nightly routine, something that we’d gotten used to in our time together. We added some prayers in, with Isla praying that I would stay with them forever and for her dad to get home soon. I smiled, knowing that I was going to do my best to keep my end of that staying bargain.

I went back to the porch when she was finally asleep, basking in the night breeze. It was so quiet but not unsafe—in fact, this had to be one of the safest neighborhoods I’d been in. All the neighbors were close but not necessarily nosy, and in the past few weeks they really made me feel welcome and reminded me that I could always come knock on their doors if I ever needed anything.

There was a particular neighbor of Peter and Isla, one named Laura, who just moved in with an adopted boy who was more or less Isla’s age. Laura was old enough to be Isla’s grandmother, but she was still bright as a bee and twice as active, visiting us once or twice during the garage sale and telling us that she was really happy to have moved here. I could tell her little boy was shy, and I knew Isla asked about him often. Maybe we could pay them a visit this weekend and see how they were doing. That boy could probably use someone talkative like Isla to get him out of his shell.

With that nice thought in mind, I stood up, about to go in and get ready for bed.

Just as I opened the front door, a car drove down the road and slid up the driveway. I blinked.

It was Peter’s black SUV, of course, but I was so shocked seeing it that I could only stand in place. I watched as he got out of the driver’s seat, carrying his duffel bag and wearing clean jeans and a gray shirt that hugged his muscles. The sight of him looking so fresh and healthy had my heart aching, and memories of how much I missed him came rushing back at me. In that instant, clarity hit me with a bang.

I was in love with this man.

Peter took one look at me before he strode over and dropped the duffel bag beside our feet. His gaze never left mine, and I finally cleared my suddenly dry throat.

“You’re back,” I blurted out.

A smile slid out of the side of his mouth, and it was so achingly sexy. His gaze roamed my face as if he was devouring the sight, and my knees felt so weak. He radiated hunger, and it was so raw and primitive that I could feel the same desire rushing inside me and pooling in between my legs.

“Isla?”

“She’s asleep,” I managed. I cleared my throat again. “Have you had dinner—”

“I’d rather have you,” he interrupted.

The words registered, and I gasped. Then, before I could say anything else, he was already yanking me towards him and crashing his mouth against mine.

I opened myself up to the kiss instantly, feeling like I’d been without water for so long and was thirsty beyond belief. His kisses were the water, and I drank him in and pressed closer against him, eager to have his body against mine. He was as hard and warm as I remembered, and I wanted to have more of it. Our kisses turned passionate and hot, too hungry for us to control, and I knew it would be dangerous to stay on this porch for too long.

As if he read my mind, Peter broke the kiss and placed his mouth on my cheek. His breathing came out erratic, and I felt his fast-beating heart when I placed my palm on his chest.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. It had my belly quivering. “I’ve waited for weeks to be near you, Rachel…I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Damn it.”

His words washed over me like a balm. Then I was launching myself in his arms without a word, tugging him inside as I told him through touch that I felt exactly the same.

We stumbled in the living room and would have ripped each other’s clothes there, but there was always the fear of us becoming too loud because of our eagerness and eventually waking up Isla. So we gritted our teeth and struggled towards the bedroom, finally closing the door. Peter pressed me up against the wall and pressed his body against mine, resuming our kisses from the porch. Dimly, I was aware that we left his bag there, but my mind turned blank when he ended up ripping my clothes.

In response, a strangled laugh slid out of my throat. Then I was hurriedly undressing him, too, my hands roaming everywhere and touching what I hadn’t been able to touch before. Peter used his mouth to make me moan, first sucking on my throat before he slid down to my breasts and played with my nipples. He used his mouth, his tongue and his fingers to drive me crazy until my nipples were stiff points and my whole body was throbbing for him. Then he slid his mouth further down and used his skills on me down where it was needed the most, and all I could do was hold on to his shoulders and hang on for the ride as he spread my legs and proceeded to please me on the spot.

I wasn’t ashamed to say that it didn’t take long for Peter to have my body on the verge before I exploded, my intense orgasm blinding me with pleasure and taking me into oblivion.

When I was finally, eventually down from my high, I found that he was already carrying me towards the bed. Feeling his erection jutting against my stomach, I realized that I wanted to do the same thing for him—so when he was intending to place me down, I tugged and took him with me.

Peter chuckled, his blue eyes gleaming. Feeling mischievous, I ordered him to lie down on his back, which he did so with amusement. I then began to slide his boxers down—the last piece of clothing that I hadn’t managed to remove earlier—and just stared at him for the first few seconds.

He was beautiful. So manly and beautiful, and he was all mine.

I had imagined his cock would be big, but I hadn’t imagined it to look this magnificent. He was smooth all over and iron hard, jutting up in the air with a mushroom-shaped tip. He pulsed, and my mouth watered at the sight. Having unwillingly seen a few boys before, I hadn’t really been interested—but the sight of Peter getting hard for me only served to turn me on, and I knew I just had to do what I could to please him, too.

I started by tracing my fingers against his hardness, just to get a feel of him. He was velvety smooth, and the contrast to his hardness was fascinating. I then wrapped my fingers around him, watching as his eyes darkened and the amusement fled instantly. I experimented with some movements, listening to Peter’s grunts and using it as my judgement to see which action he liked best.

After a while, I began to use my mouth on him, leaning down and swallowing him bit by bit. He was so huge and didn’t really fit, but I did my best with what I could and brought out more groans and sounds of pleasure from him. Watching him like this, succumbing to the pleasure and letting go of his control, made me feel so powerful and free, and I realized that I was enjoying myself as much as I was pleasing him. I wanted to make him come for me, and so I sucked and licked to my heart’s desire.

But Peter had other plans.

Before he could reach his satisfaction, I felt his hands tug on my hair. He lifted me up until I was on top of him, and I protested, confused.

“Peter?”

“I want to come inside you,” he rasped. Then he was pulling me down for a hot, open-mouth kiss and rolling us around until I was the one flat on my back.

I felt his fingers at my entrance again, and I knew it was to prepare me. But there was no need, because I was already wet again and aching for him. I took his cock and suggestively positioned it at my entrance, and a strangled laugh came out of Peter.

“I want you inside me, too,” I murmured.

He nodded.

Then Peter took over, his tip rubbing up and down my slit. Then he slid in, slow, bit by bit, and I felt him stretching me like I’d never been stretched out before. I held on to him as pain sliced through me at the intrusion. Peter lavished me with kisses, murmuring about how he was going to take it slow and stop if I wanted him to.

But I didn’t want him to. I urged him on until he was finally to the hilt, where he paused and waited me out. His body strained, and I knew he was trying to be considerate. I felt so full having him inside me, and I waited, too, as the pain eventually disappeared.

When it did, I wriggled experimentally. Peter groaned and held me in place, his fingers moving about to give slow caresses and soothe me. I tugged at him, waiting until he looked me in the eye, his gaze heavy with lust.

Then I nodded my head.

Peter gritted his teeth. Then he took it as consent and began moving inside me, sliding out as slowly as he could before he slid back in. I felt numb at first, just holding on—then, the first spark hit me on his fourth slide, and it felt like I was being electrified with pleasure. In response, I moaned.

Peter kept thrusting, and I clung on to him. We kissed and we touched, unable to get enough of each other’s bodies even when we were already connected. What became slow turned fast as we found our rhythm, and the feel of my husband making love to me had my heart bursting and my senses responding. I kissed his neck, and he angled my hips up to deepen his thrusts. I felt something building in my core, higher and higher, and all I could do was kiss Peter back and wrap my legs around his waist.

Then I felt it—his thumb on my clit, pushing me to the edge. It was the trigger I needed, and the heat that was building up inside me shattered and consumed me whole. Wave after wave of intense pleasure shot at me, and I held on and cried out his name. Peter pounded inside me fast and hard, desperation and hunger rolled in one as he sought his own release.

His body arched. Then it bucked, and a groan slid out of his mouth as he kissed me once more. I felt him emptying himself inside me, and I felt his hands slide down my waist and grab me as he held me still. I kissed him back and held him until he came down from his high, wanting him to know that I loved everything that we had done and I didn’t regret it.

After a while, Peter stood up, got out tissues and cleaned us up. Then he slid back in bed in all his naked glory, gathering me in his arms and spooning me. I giggled, realizing he was half-hard against my butt as he sucked my throat playfully.

“I love you, Rachel.”

The words had me stilling.

I turned my head and stared at him in disbelief, wondering if it was the great sex that made him say that. But when I looked into his blue eyes, I found them swimming with sincerity—and something else, an emotion that had my heart stuttering as I realized he was telling the truth. It was right there, shining in his eyes, and it couldn’t be denied.

“I might have loved you for some time now before our wedding,” he admitted. “But being away from you, I realized how much I did.” He kissed my shoulder. “I’m willing to wait. I don’t want you to feel obligated. I’ll do my best to make you happy, Rachel.”

How could he think I would be able to resist that?

In response, I turned around to face him. I grinned, letting him see my expression and exactly how I felt about his admission. Then I placed my head on his chest and breathed him in.

“I love you, too,” I murmured.

We stayed like that for a long time. We made love one more time, this one as urgent as the last and twice as fast.

Then we fell asleep in one another’s arms.