Page 135 of Love Me Again

Sixteen years later…

On a beautiful Saturdaymorning in the month of August, Shayla Hoult rolls over in the bed she shares with her gorgeous husband Tristan Cole Hoult and smiles contently.

At the tender age of forty-six, he was still every bit as handsome as he always was. She lay on her side and admired him while he slept. He still looked the same—but older with fine lines that came with maturity, which made him even sexier. The stubble of his beard had specks of grey, which she loved.

“Why are you staring at me?” Cole mumbles, his eyes still closed, causing his wife to start while she was lost deep in her thoughts. Shayla smiles, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly, and reaches over to brush her fingers over his cheek. Cole smiles, peels his eyes open, and blinks, looking at his beautiful wife smiling at him lovingly.

“How long have you been awake?” Shayla giggles when he wraps his strong arm around her waist and drags her closer till she’s pressed up against him.

“Not that long.” He groans, pressing a kiss to her forehead while she nestles into his warm embrace.

“How did you know I was staring at you then?” She mumbles against his chest and smiles when the rumble of his deep laugh vibrates against her lips.

“Because every time you look at me, my entire body tingles.” He moans, kissing her pulse, and she sighs. Shayla pulls her head back and peeks up at him through her long dark lashes.

“How many girls have you fed that line to over the years, Lord Tristan?” She questions whimsically, while Cole grins toothily but groans when Shayla pulls his ear.

“Ouch…you…you…only you!” He grumbles with an amused chuckle while she glares playfully. Shayla lets go of his ear, and he rubs it with a pout. “Why are you abusing me at this ungodly hour?”

“Ungodly? It’s nine o'clock in the morning.” Shayla tells him and watches his eyes glow with mischief.

“It is?” He questions and rolls over on top of her. “I think it’s definitely sex ‘o clock.” He strokes his nose over hers. Shayla runs her hands over his muscular back while he lowers his lips to hers.

“RJ!” The couple jump apart when they hear excessive knocking, followed by seventeen-year-old Alaia’s shrill scream. “Get out of my bathroom, you doofus!” Shayla groans closing her eyes.

“Every bloody morning.” She sighs, looking up at her husband, who smiles. “Eight bathrooms in this house, eight, and they fight over one.”

“MUM!” Alaia furiously shouts while thumping her fist on the bathroom door. Shayla shakes her head while Cole chuckles.

“I don’t understand why they never call for you. It’s always Mum, why not Dad?” She complains while Cole rolls off of her onto his back.

“Because you’re the mediator in this house, baby.” Cole spanks her bum before she gets up, pulling her robe on and tying it up. “The Hoult family peacekeeper. It’s a big responsibility.”

Shayla rolls her eyes, exasperated, “Oh please. You just like being the good guy.” She mumbles while walking out of the bedroom. Shayla follows the voices toward the bathroom on the third floor and comes face to face with a livid Alaia.

“What’s with the screaming again first thing in the morning, Laia?” She questions with a frown, and Alaia turns her emerald gaze to her mother.

“He’s in my bathroom again.” She complains with a huff, brushing her fingers through her sleep-tousled light brown hair in frustration. “He’s got his own. I don’t understand why he keeps using mine!”

“No one told you to steal the master bathroom, princess!” RJ’s response comes through the door. Alaia growls and thumps her fist on the door again.

“Get out of my bathroom, you idiot!”

Shayla rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Alaia, language and lower your tone. You’ll wake up your sister.” Shayla scolds her. “Rome Joshua Hoult, get out of your sister’s bathroom.”

“But Mum—”

“Now,” Shayla orders firmly while staring at the white wooden door. The door opens, and RJ walks out with a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark green eyes identical to his mother’s glowering at his older sister. Shayla glares at both her children. “I’ve had it with the two of you and this bathroom argument every morning.”

“Tell your son,” Alaia growls at RJ, who narrows his eyes at her mockingly. “Why do you insist on using my bathroom when you’ve got your own?” Alaia questions crossing her arms over her chest.

“How many times do I have to keep repeating myself. It’s the only one in the house with a bathtub big enough to fit my six-foot-two arse in to have my ice bath

RJ explains with a roll of his eyes. “Why don’t you just take another bathroom. We only have seven others.”

“Because this one is closest to my bedroom,” Alaia argues back.

“What is all this commotion?” Cole frowns, walking over to join his family. Alaia turns her gaze to her father and sighs.

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