Page 46 of Anything For This Love

“They love it.”

“Good. I’m glad you decided to take them.”

“How’s Logan? He seemed a little down when we had dinner.”

Dad lets out an exasperated sigh before answering. “He’s perked up a bit, but still isn’t acting like himself. I overheard him on the phone before we left. I think he and his girlfriend might have broken up.”

“Well, that would explain things.”

“Yeah, she was a very nice girl. I was hoping she’d stick around.”

We talk for a few minutes before saying our goodbyes. Ending the call, I return to Abby, finding her perched in an overstuffed armchair.

“How’s your brother?” I ask.

“He’s okay. Still seems a little conflicted over our mom being back and refuses to talk about Tiff.” She shrugs it off, but sadness fills her face.

I know she was upset at first about them hiding their relationship from her, but now she seems even more distraught over them breaking up. It must be in the air if Logan and his girlfriend called it quits, too. I find myself crossing my fingers that nothing comes between Abby and me. But we’re solid. We have nothing to worry about. We’re in the best place we’ve ever been.

The mild weathercontinues through Christmas Day, so we set out for a late morning hike, needing nothing heavier than a light jacket. Chloe starts out walking with us but quickly grows tired, so I pick her up and plop her onto my shoulders. At first, she seems uneasy being up so high, gripping onto me with surprising strength. But once she realizes how much she can see she starts to enjoy it. Abby snaps several pictures of us with her phone, smiling contentedly as she gazes upon us with love shining through her eyes.

Later, as Abby soaks in the giant tub with a pink, flowery smelling mask on her face, the water filled with fragrant bubbles, I straighten up our room and prepare lunch. Since the spa was booked up for today and I couldn’t get her an appointment, I stopped and grabbed a gift basket so I could bring the spa to her. She has everything she needs for an at-home facial, including a sugar scrub, luxurious body butter, and lip balm. She rewards me with a kiss when she emerges forty-five minutes later, her skin flushed but glowing. Her eyes are soft with appreciation, her entire body relaxed as she sinks into the chair next to me. I slide a plate to her and fill her glass with lemonade.

“That was nice,” she sighs before biting into her club sandwich.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You deserve a little pampering. You work too hard not to take a little time for yourself.”

“Careful, I might get used to this type of treatment,” she jokes.

“Good. I hope you do.” A huge smile splits her face despite her best efforts to fight it.

We take advantage of the calming silence and talk while we leisurely eat our meal. It’s something we haven’t had much of a chance to do since coming back into each other’s lives. Whenever we’re together, we either have Chloe or are impatiently tearing off each other’s clothes. We talk about everything, especially the time we spent apart. I tell her about my internship and how I constantly thought about her, and that calling her was the first thing I did when I got back. She tells me about finishing school while pregnant and how hard it was to go back to class after giving birth. She wasn’t able to take much time off and still had assignments to complete while recovering and caring for a newborn to pass those classes. Once again, I am in awe of her and all she’s accomplished.

When Chloe wakes from her afternoon nap, we head into the city to check out the Christmas lights. Walking through the park hand-in-hand with Abby and with Chloe on my hip, I watch my daughter’s face light up at each display. She wiggles free of my arms when she spots a display featuring her favorite cartoon princesses and runs to it, nearly tripping over her own feet in her excitement.

We return to the inn for dinner reservations at one of their restaurants. Abby puts Chloe in her Christmas dress and slips into a knee-length burgundy dress with lace sleeves. She adds just a touch of makeup and pulls her hair into a low, casual chignon, leaving a few tendrils of hair out to frame her face.

Our dinner is delicious, and Chloe enjoys sitting at the big table even though she’s confined to a highchair. Her eyes light up with excitement when the waiter gives her a cup with a straw and lid filled with chocolate milk. She’s used to having sippy cups, so this feels like a big step to her.

We return to our room and put Chloe to bed shortly after. Leading Abby to the bedroom, I pull out one final gift, the one I promised her while she was packing for our trip. She takes the bag from me and starts to remove the paper.

“Wait.” I place my hand on hers. “I’m going to step out for a few minutes and let you get… comfortable.” She nods her understanding, a wicked gleam taking root in her emerald eyes. I walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me and wait, rather impatiently, for her to change into the sexy negligee I brought her.

“I’m ready,” she calls from the bedroom.

I spring to my feet, but nothing prepares me for what I find when I enter. I immediately start unbuttoning my shirt as I stalk toward the bed.

She’s sprawled in the center of the bed, her head propped up on pillows, her arms out to her sides. One knee is bent, her ankle barely shielding the sheer fabric covering her pussy. She’s wearing the black heels she wore for dinner and the blindfold is firmly in place, covering her eyes. Her hair is down, the long, wavy tresses covering her breasts. She looks so incredibly sexy, her pouty lips parted and drawing in air, her chest heaving up and down.

“Move your hair,” I command as I undo my belt. She obeys, slowly brushing her hair away and letting it splay across the pillow. The soft, full globes are visible except for her nipples, which are concealed by delicate lace flowers.

Removing my pants, I climb onto the bed and press a kiss to the inside of her ankle, working my way up her leg until I reach her knee. I wrap my hand around the calf of her leg that’s bent and pull it away from her body, flattening it on the bed. I continue feathering my lips over her skin. When I reach her center, I cover the see-through material with my mouth and breathe hot, damp air onto her. She groans and flexes her hips, searching out more contact.

Wait right here,” I instruct.

“You couldn’t pay me to go anywhere right now,” she giggles.

I chuckle as I walk to the kitchen and grab a glass, filling it with a few ice cubes. Placing it on the nightstand, I fish one out and pop it halfway into my mouth. When I press my lips to her mound, her back bows off the bed. I surround the cold cube with my hot mouth, a drastic contrast of temperatures on her sensitive flesh. I drag it up her body, dipping it inside her belly button and lapping up the melting liquid with my tongue. Pulling down each cup of her bra, I repeat the motion, circling each nipple until it’s fully peaked and red.

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