Page 69 of After the Rain

"He asked me if you were going to move in with us," Wade said, settling beside me on the couch with two glasses of red wine. "I told him we were still figuring out what our family looks like."

"What did he say to that?"

"He said families are about love, not about where people sleep. Then he asked if we could have pancakes for dinner because you make them better than I do."

I laughed, some of the day's stress finally beginning to ease. "Smart kid."

"He gets that from his teacher."

We talked about Cooper's adjustment, about my job security, about the small daily logistics of building a life together. But underneath the practical conversation was something deeper, more electric. The awareness that we were finally free to explore what we meant to each other without external pressure.

"I want to wake up next to you," Wade said quietly, setting down his wine glass and turning to face me fully. "Not just sometimes, not just when it's convenient. I want Cooper to see that love comes in different forms, and that his father is brave enough to choose authenticity over convenience."

The words hit me like lightning, illuminating every dark corner of longing I'd been carrying.

"I've been careful my whole adult life," I admitted, reaching out to trace the line of his jaw. "Building walls to protect my career and my heart. But loving you feels worth the risk of losing everything I've built."

Wade's eyes darkened with something that looked like wonder mixed with desire. "Say that again."

"Loving you feels worth the risk."

He moved closer on the couch, our knees touching as emotional intimacy built toward something more electric. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you, about us, about what I want our life to look like."

"And what do you want?"

"Everything," he said simply. "I want to share a bed and a mortgage and weekend grocery shopping and Cooper's parent-teacher conferences. I want to fight about whose turn it is to dodishes and make up by fucking you senseless against the kitchen counter."

The crude honesty made heat pool low in my belly. Wade's newfound confidence in expressing his desires was intoxicating.

"I want all of that too," I whispered, leaning closer until I could feel his breath against my lips. "I want to build something real with you."

He kissed me tenderly. Wade's hands framed my face as we deepened the connection, both of us finally allowing ourselves to feel everything we'd been holding back.

The electricity between us had been building for months, and now it crackled through every point of contact. Wade's mouth was warm and demanding, his tongue teasing mine with growing confidence that made my head spin.

When we broke apart, both breathing hard, Wade rested his forehead against mine.

"Will you stay tonight?" The question was barely above a whisper, vulnerable and hopeful. "I don't want to hide anymore, and I don't want to be apart from you."

"Yes," I said without hesitation, the word carrying the weight of choosing love over safety, relationship over self-protection. "Yes, I'll stay."

Wade's smile was brilliant in the lamplight. "Really?"

"Really. We're done hiding, remember?"

He stood and extended his hand, his fingers trembling slightly with nerves and anticipation. "Come to bed with me."

I followed him upstairs, my heart pounding with the weight of what we were stepping into. This wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just lust. This wasintention—a claiming, a choice. We weren’t slipping, weren’t falling. We wereleaping. Together.

Wade’s bedroom was everything I’d imagined and nothing like I’d expected. Clean lines, dark woods, a masculine calm—but with soft touches that spoke to the care he’d taken tonight.Fresh sheets. A candle flickering on the nightstand. The warm scent of cedar and his cologne lingering in the air.

He stood beside the bed, hands at his sides, jaw tense but eyes soft.

“This feels different,” Wade said quietly, his voice rough around the edges. “Like I might not survive it if you walk away afterward.”

The honesty in his voice cut straight through me, sharp and devastating in its beauty.

“I’m not walking anywhere,” I said, stepping close. Our bodies didn’t touch yet, but the pull between us was magnetic. “This isn’t just another night. You know that.”

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