Page 229 of The Heart of Winter

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Winter and I spent the rest of Friday and most of Saturday at Winter’s parents' house. As the evening was approaching, we decided to head home. We were dying to finally have some time alone together, just to be with each other without witnesses and a house full of people with… excellent hearing.

But the intimacy we craved didn’t quite get a chance to happen as quickly as we would have liked.

Somewhere during our drive home, Winter’s dad must have already called every son that didn’t live with them, cousins, second cousins, and other distant relatives in the family. By the time we got back, Winter’s phone was blowing up, message after message, call after call. Everyone was offering congratulations.

So it took a while.

All his brothers were excited about him finding his True Mate and expecting not one but two children at once. Even Skye called, and I could hear that he was kind of laughing at the surreality of the situation, that his beta brother was suddenly going to be the father of two, but he was sincerely happy Winter’s life had taken this turn.

The same day, late evening, we finally had an intense round of passionate love-making, after which we lay tangled together in bed, wordless, just staring into each other’s eyes, drunk on the kind of electric energy flowing between us, that felt like pink bubbles fizzing in a glass of strawberry soda.

Suddenly, on an impulse, I slowly lowered my hand and put it on Winter’s flat belly, that would not stay flat too long.

Winter let out a soft, surprised gasp and his fingers entwined with mine, but then… he freed them and… placed his palm on my belly!

We looked each other deep into our eyes, the moment felt special, like an acknowledgement of the unique and wonderful situation we were both in.

There were no words, just the exchange of energy, and my whole body was slightly trembling in a mental ecstasy, basking in happiness.

And then suddenly Winter broke the sweet silence and said,

"I'm starting to think maybe the decor in my apartment is a bit too minimalist… I mean, an artist is going to be living here, after all. What do you think about starting in the bedroom: brightening it up a bit, maybe adding some cozy pillows?"

I blinked, a little surprised. "Absolutely, if it’s not a problem for you?"

"Not at all. Maybe we could go shopping tomorrow after work? I saw a set of really nice pillows and throws in the window of that store we passed on the way home…"

I had to cut him off. "Wait, wait… a set like for nesting?"

Winter froze for a second and swallowed.

"I just thought it looked… nice. I think it would fit in here. A lot of the pillows had soft mint and turquoise tones…"

I narrowed my eyes.

"The store two blocks from here, just before the turn on the right?"

"Yes, exactly that one! What, you noticed it too?"

Was I blushing?

"Yeah… it caught my eye when we slowed down at the light. It really is nice, purely from an aesthetic perspective, of course, no deeper meaning or anything…"

Winter grinned. "Glad we're on the same page, then!"

"Who else would be, if not us…"

Very slowly, I leaned in and softly kissed his beautiful lips. Well, let’s just say, it didn’t end there.

***

Early the next morning, we drifted out to Winter’s terrace to enjoy the sunrise.

As I passed through the living room, something caught my eye: his bass guitar, leaning in the corner, a soft layer of dust was covering the strings. He hadn’t touched it in almost a month, not since the island.

I hesitated for a second, then carefully lifted it. Outside, Winter was already unfolding lounge chairs from beneath the canopy, the early morning light casting a golden glow over his naked arms.

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