Page 16 of One More Gift

Hovering at the top of the stairs, I lean over the bannister to hear them more clearly over the crackle of the fire they’ve already lit.

“She always had a thing for you, you know. And you have my blessing,” I hear Casper say. “I told her the same before you joined us last night.”

“I appreciate that,” Henry says, his voice even and calm. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing there’s no animosity between them. Breakfast will already be awkward enough.

“I know you will take care of her, treat her well, give her everything I could not. But while we’re stuck here,” Caspercontinues. “I think we might as well have some fun together, if that’s what you want?”

The tips of my ears burn the same way they do when you realise someone is talking about you, but this time, the rest of my body burns with it.

“If that’s whatshewants,” Henry says firmly. “Saskia’s in charge here. At all times. Not me, and not you. I think we all enjoyed ourselves last night, but she calls the shots from now on.”

I pinch my lips together and enjoy the sensation of knowing that Henry is in my corner. But wait…

Stuck here? What is he talking about?

Casper promised he’d leave first thing this morning.

On the upstairs landing, I peel back the hallway curtain and gasp at the view across the fields. A blanket of thick snow covers everything as far as the eye can see.

I bolt down the stairs two at a time, throwing open the front door for a view in the opposite direction. All three of our cars are buried under at least a foot of snow, and thanks to drifts, the road beyond is barely visible.

“Good morning, Saskia.”

“Good morning, my angel.”

I turn to find both men behind me, cradling steaming cups of fresh coffee. My skin pricks and a shiver rolls down my spine, but I couldn’t say whether it’s from the brisk winter air or the sight before me.

Henry is topless in grey marl sweatpants, leaning casually against the back of the sofa with his legs crossed at the ankle. Over at the dining table, Casper is also half dressed in a similar pair of sweatpants, and I feel like I've walked into the men's locker room at the gym. He sits with his chin in his palm, arm propped on his elbow. It makes me wonder who got half naked first.

“How did you sleep?” Casper asks, his eyes raking down my body and back up again. He’s slipped his hands beneath this robe many times, and from the subtle tick of his jaw, I can tell he’s thinking about it.

I close the door behind me and pull my robe tighter. “You’re supposed to be leaving after breakfast.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Impossible, it seems, but we can still have those pancakes you promised me.”

All my plans for a relaxing few days with my new man unravel as I find myself in an unfortunate position, standing between them.

I need Casper to leave. Need space to think, to breathe. This room is stifling with the heat from the fire, their two large frames taking up all the space around me.

“Stop thinking so much,” Henry says, moving to my side and wrapping an arm around my waist. I soften naturally into him, my fingertips curling around the tight muscles of his stomach. It’s bold of him to touch me in front of the man I married, but after last night, there’s no denying we’re more than friends. “He can stay. There’s plenty of room, and we’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t have enough food for us all,” I object, my mind already scrambling to adjust the recipes I have planned to cook for three servings instead of two. They’ve set the table with fruit and oven-fresh pastries, but I know these men have big appetites, and after last night, I’m ravenous myself.

“Please,” Casper laughs. “I have met you. Even when you’re cooking for two, you have enough for ten.”

“That’s true,” Henry laughs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You take a seat, and I’ll make you a coffee.”

Chapter 10

Saskia

I sit down oppositeCasper and try my hardest not to look at the body I’ve spent so many years admiring. When his art isn’t going well, he fights his demons in the gym, and if his current physique is anything to go by, something is troubling him lately.

“Are you well, wife?” he asks, leaning in and lowering his voice. “Sore?”

“Stop that,” I hiss. “And enough of the wife shit. What are you doing?”

“I have something for you,” he says, producing a wrapped box from the chair next to him.

---