Chapter 9: A More Wonderful Life

Tuesday, September 30, 1986

Tuesday found peace restored both in the Steele household and at the Agency. The couple had arrived together, laughing as they entered the Agency doors, leading Mildred to give them an assessing look. Remington and Laura had indulged in a little tag on the freeway, she driving the Rabbit, he the Auburn. He'd won their little race… this time. He'd neatly zipped around a car entering the freeway from the on ramp, while she'd had to hit her brakes, hard, to keep from colliding with the Sunday driver. A slew of creative cuss words had been spoken under her breath, knowing that Remington had just wrapped up the race.

Mildred grinned ear-to-ear as the couple greeted her. She knew the Boss arriving with Miss Holt was a good omen. But it was the looks that passed between the two that left her humming to herself when they departed for their separate offices. Clearly, they'd worked out whatever the issue was between them, which meant a good day lay ahead.

Laura waited behind closed door for several minutes, to assure herself Remington would be safely ensconced behind his desk, paper opened, cup of tea near at hand, then buzzed Mildred on the intercom. Two minutes later, Mildred slid into her office, a cup of coffee in hand for each of them. Sitting down across from Laura, Mildred looked at her speculatively.

"You've cleared our schedules for tomorrow, right?" Laura got straight to the point. Weeks ago she'd declared that there were to be no appointments made for the following day, and Mildred had inadvertently scheduled a couple of new clients in a momentary lapse of memory.

"All clear. One rescheduled to Tuesday morning, the other to Tuesday afternoon." Mildred sent Laura a conspiratorial smile.

"Reservations made at Chez Rive?" Checking the list in front of her, Laura gave a small frown.

"Seven sharp. How are you going to sneak away from the Boss to get packed up?" Mildred asked out of curiosity.

"Monroe's going to page him at 8:30, claiming a breach in the security system at one of the stores," she grinned smugly. Remington wouldn't be able to resist the ruse, given it was he that installed said systems and he would see such an event as personal affront to his skills. She regarded Mildred thoughtfully. "You're sure Mr. Steele hasn't planned something similar for us?" Mildred shook her head adamantly.

"Not a word to me about it, and you know I'd have a hand in setting things up if he did." Laura smiled widely at the answer.

"Perfect. Now remember, I'll be out of the office for a while this morning in order to 'meet with the accountant.'" Laura made air brackets with her fingers, to emphasize the so-called appointment was little more than a ruse.

"The Boss definitely won't want to tag along for that. Good call, Miss Holt."

"Now, on a more serious note… anything on those dahlias yet?" Laura leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers together as her conscience niggled at her. Remington hadn't asked where the pictures had come from and she hadn't volunteered any information. She wanted answers to the questions she knew he'd asked, so she could put his mind to ease as quickly as possible.

"So far, two florists that have sold a single dahlia: one to a woman in her mid-forties, the other to a teenaged boy. I still have another couple of dozen more to contact."

"Stay on that, if you don't mind. The sooner I can figure out what their meaning is, the better." Mildred nodded her agreement.

"Have you changed your mind about telling the Boss?" Laura grimaced slightly at the question, knowing Mildred would start nagging her, if she didn't tell Remington soon.

"Not yet. I want to have something to tell him before I fill him in. And in order to have something to tell him…" She pointed a pencil in Mildred's direction.

"Get back to making calls, right." Mildred stood up and moved to the door, then paused before opening. "Miss Holt, far be it from me to stick my nose in where it doesn't belong, but the Boss won't be happy if he finds out…"

"He won't," Laura interrupted, "unless someone tells him." She looked at Mildred pointedly.

"I won't tell him, but if he asks, I won't lie to him." Laura pursed her lips, her irritation clear, but nodded her head in agreement.

"Fair enough. Those calls?" Mildred shot Laura a frown of her own at the younger woman ushering her out of the office, then opened the door and left the room.

Laura gathered up the files from her desk. Neither she nor Remington had appointments with clients today as Laura had intentionally cleared their schedules for the next week. She had several skip traces to close up and balance sheets to go over, before she cleared out of the office for six days. Remington had one security installation to wrap up, and if all went well that should be complete this afternoon as well. She was smiling widely when she entered his office and crossed the room to sit on the couch without preamble.

Remington peeked at her over the top of his paper. With a smile, he folded it in two, in order to raise a brow in her direction. "Hiding out, Miss Holt?"

"Not at all. There's not a single appointment on the books, so I thought I'd enjoy my husband's company while going over the balance sheets."

Remington sat up a little straighter. "Not a single appointment, you say?" His mind began ticking off any number of ways they could enjoy the day together.

"No appointments doesn't mean we don't have any commitments," she pointed out. "I have to meet with the accountant this afternoon, and you, Mr. Steele, have to wrap up that security installation."

He gave a disappointed grunt. "Surely both could be put off a day or two, don't you think?" Standing, he crossed the room to where she sat, sweeping her up in his arms, then dropping down to the couch with her in his lap. Picking up her hand, he suckled on the pulse point at her wrist, a smug little look crossing his face as he watched her fingers contract. His lips continued to journey up her arm, as a hand stroked her hip. "Perhaps make up for some of our time lost this weekend?" His hand slid up to skim across the sensitive skin at her waist, even as his lips found the responsive skin of her inner elbow. "A day at the beach? A reenactment of Splendor in the Grass at McCullum Park? An afternoon on the pier at Venice Beach?"

Laura wriggled off of his lap, laughing at his acute look of disappointment. "Me – accountant; You, Mr. Steele – security installation." Her smiled only widened as he looked prepared to go into a full blown sulk. "I tell you what," she pretended to relent, as she teasingly ran a finger down his front from neck to stomach, "If you wrap up the security installation, we'll not only leave early today and make up for some of that lost time, but…" She paused long enough to reel him in. When Remington lifted an eager pair of brows towards her, she knew she had him in the palm of her hand. "I promise to more than make it up to you tonight."

"You do, do you?" He leaned in closer, his eyes focusing on her lips.

"I do." Threading her fingers through his hair, she drew his lips down to meet hers. She kissed him hungrily, almost voraciously, drawing a soft hum from his throat. Releasing him, she gave him a smug little smile.

"Proud of yourself are you?" He gave her an amused look, then wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, urging her towards him. This time, he took charge of the kiss, alternately teasing then plundering. She felt his shoulders shake with laughter when it was she that hummed her pleasure this time. They groaned in unison when the intercom buzzed.

Laura giggled with mirth at the creative string of words uttered under his breath, as he stood to answer the page. Stabbing his finger at the intercom button, he said with no little annoyance, "What is it Mildred?"

"Your realtor is one line one."

Smiling wide, Laura quickly moved to join him, laughing when he sat in his chair then yanked her down into his lap. Depressing the button for line one, he picked up the receiver and held it between their ears.

"Meredith, good of you to call. Laura's here with me. What news do you have for us?"

"Outstanding news, actually. The sellers have agreed to full asking and have asked that the closing be moved from sixty days to thirty as they already have purchased another home and are eager to move on."

Remington and Laura exchanged almost giddy smiles. "So, we could be in the house by Halloween?" Laura asked.

"They'd like to set a closing date of October 30th, so yes. You'd be in by Halloween." Meredith remained quietly for several long seconds. "So, do I tell them they've sold their house?"

Remington glanced at Laura, and seeing the utter joy on her face, didn't even need to ask. "You do. When should we come by to sign the contract?"

"Could the two of you meet me at the office at four? You'll need to bring verification of funding from your lender."

"No need for that. We'll be paying for the house with cash." He tapped his finger against his lips at Laura's look of surprise.

"Four then?"

Remington glanced again at Laura who nodded that the time would work for her. "Yes, we'll see you then. We appreciate your help on this, Meredith."

"Believe me, it was my pleasure. I'm glad we could finally find you exactly what you were looking for. I'll see you this afternoon."

Remington hung up the phone, then turned his head to grin at Laura. "Seems we've bought our first home together, Mrs. Steele." She ran her fingers through his hair.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it? But cash, Remington?" He gave a careless shrug in answer.

"Why worry ourselves with monthly mortgage payments when we needn't do so. We've far more than sufficient funds to cover the purchase of our home."

"You mean you do." She was still adjusting to the idea that he was independently wealthy, a fact she'd only learned of a few months before. There were times when she found it down right… intimidating… to glance at their checkbook register and see six digits before the decimal point. While the Agency had been running in the black for more than three years now, the memory of the many lean years before that time period had not been left behind.

"I mean we do. Our savings account, alone, could buy the house five times over." It amused him to no end that she had not quite… adjusted… to the fact that they were, in fact, quite comfortable. Wait for it, Steele. Three, two, one…

"What savings account?" She'd just absorbed the words he'd spoken, and was looking at him as though he'd grown a second head.

"The account I added your name to after we returned from our honeymoon." Her eyes shifted towards the ceiling, as she searched her memory for any conversation regarding a savings account. You know she'll have to ask, old sport. Wait for it. Three, two, one… Her brows furrowed into a small frown.

"Are there any other financial windfalls my name is suddenly attached to that I'm unaware of, Mr. Steele?" Remington laughed lightly at her consternation.

"Quite a few, I imagine." Admittedly, he took great pleasure, teasing her as he was. He'd told her clearly in London that what was his was now theirs, but as unassuming as she was, she'd paid little attention to the 'ours' portion of that conversation. You know there's at least two more coming, mate. Wait for it. Three, two, one…

"How? I don't recall signing anything other than the signature card for our checking account." Ah, there it is.

"Caribbean and European banks are much more forgiving in that regard. As for our savings account here? I seem to recall a certain young woman signing two cards that day at the bank, did she not?"

She tapped her lips with a finger, while going back over that day in her memory. They'd been home only two days from their honeymoon when he, almost literally, dragged her away from the office for a quick trip to the bank. She'd been distracted, worried they wouldn't make it back in time for their one-thirty appointment, and, frankly, a bit annoyed that he'd interrupted the middle of their work day. When the bank manager had handed her the cards, she'd only glanced briefly at their two names listed, irritated that her name read 'Laura Holt.' She'd asked the bank manager to correct the cards to read Laura Steele, then had hurriedly scrawled her signature across them, before standing and pulling on Remington's arm, forcing him to take abrupt leave so that they would be back to the office in time.

"I did sign two cards," she acknowledged. "But I thought those were both for the checking account."

"Failing to pay attention to the little details again, Mrs. Steele?" She gave him a disgruntled harrumph, then grew thoughtful again, before squirming against his lap in discomfort. Ahhhh, yes, there it is. Three, two, one… She sighed, almost irritably.

"Do I even want to know what's in that account? I'm having a hard enough time looking at the checking account and believing that's real."

Remington depressed the button on the intercom.

"What can I do for you, Boss?" Mildred called through the intercom.

"Mildred, be a dear and bring Miss Holt our personal savings account statement from last month, would you?"

"Sure thing, Boss. I'll be right there."

Laura fidgeted nervously on his lap, and thought about distracting herself by distracting him, when the door to his office opened and Mildred sauntered in, file in hand. Handing it to Remington, she took in the cozy scene before her and with a knowing little smile directed towards them, turned and left the room. Laura shook her head with resignation: Mildred simply could not help but make it known how happy she was that her kids were together.

Remington extracted the latest statement and handed it to Laura. Scanning the paper quickly, she found the balance, and her stomach rolled. He laughed aloud at the queasy look on her face.

"Laura, you may be the only person alive that finds being financially… comfortable… a reason to feel ill." Unable to help himself, he nuzzled her neck with his cheek, then trailed his lips up the alabaster column. A shiver passed through her body at his ministrations and a hand clutched at the back of his head. The paper in her hand fluttered to his desk, as she arched her neck back to allow him more access. He hummed with pleasure, then chuckled lightly at her gasp when his tongue laved that spot below her ear. He adored the fact that she was putty in his hands.

"Oh God… Rem…" She nudged his head away from her neck then sighed contentedly when his lips found hers, whispering across them before settling in.

Both jumped like two teenagers caught necking when they heard his office door open. "Intercom, Mildred," they both ground out at the same time, then winced jointly at their harmonic commentary.

Mildred had the good grace to look embarrassed even as a smile played on her lips. "Sorry." The apology lacked sincerity but rang with amusement. "Miss Holt, I have the information on that… skip trace… you asked me for… When you have time that is." She looked knowingly at the couple drawing a pair of rolled eyes in her direction.

"That file's in my office." Laura moved to get off Remington's lap, only to find his hands clutching her hips, keeping her in place. She wriggled from his lap, dodging determined hands, laughing. Once she made it to her feet she bent down and lay her lips next to his ear. "I'll make it up to you… tonight… I promise."

He grunted his disappointment, then hummed in recognition of her words, but could only watch as she left his office, closing her door behind her.

Laura settled in behind her desk and waited for Mildred to take her seat before speaking. "Did you find something?"

"Two more purchases of a single pink dahlia. Once again, all by different people: a college-aged young woman and another teenaged boy. Then, at the last shop I spoke with, a dozen sold last night. The clerk that was on duty and would have sold them is off for the next five days – vacation."

"A dozen? Well, we can't assume they're meant for me, but if they are, it doesn't look whoever this is plans to stop anytime soon. If more flowers appear, then our best bet seems to be waiting on the clerk to return next week, and we hope that she had a description of someone recognizable to us." With a brisk nod of her head, Laura stood and picked up her purse off the desk. "I'll be back in a while. Remember, if Mr. Steele asks, I'm at the accountant's."

"Don't you worry about a thing, Miss Holt. I'll handle the Boss," Mildred assured her.

Laura stalled as she took the four steps to her office door to turn and look towards Remington's office. The urge to go in and say goodbye was overwhelming, but a part of her brain was reminding her that he'd likely do his best to tempt into a little tete-a-tete before she left and who knew where that would lead? They were both still sorely feeling the effects of too little time together over the weekend and yesterday. It would be far too easy to succumb… Alright, alright lure him into locking his office doors and having her way with him. As… mouth-watering… as the idea was her errands, and the side benefits of those errands, were far too important.

With a final look at his door, she slid out of her office and slipped away from the Agency, leaving him none the wiser.

Two hours later, Remington closed the final file with a great deal of relief. Grumbling lightly under his breath about how bets were not legitimately won when a certain woman used her feminine wiles to distract to do so, he gathered up the stack of files to return them to Laura in her office. Shoving open their joint door, his eyes perused the interior of her office, surprised to not find his lovely wife within their walls. A quick glance, as he dropped the files on her desk, confirmed her purse was not in its customary place on the corner of her desk. Swinging open her office door, he strolled across the office, leaning his weight on one arm against Mildred's desk. Mildred looked up at him with a knowing smile.

"Would you, perchance, know where Miss Holt's taken herself off to, Mildred?" Remington raised his brow at her, well aware that Mildred knew exactly where that was and that the secretary had conspired with his wife so that she could leave unnoticed.

"Accountant." Her one word answer was accompanied by a self-satisfied little smile.

"Any particular reason she left without stopping in to see me first?" His suspicions were fully aroused and he was more than a bit put out. Knowing that Mildred had aided and abetted his wife did not sooth his irritation in the least.

"I believe you were proving to be a… distraction," she answered giving him another look that all but said, We both know what you had on your mind today, don't we, Boss? He gave her a frown for good measure.

"Yes, well, she was proving to be a distraction in her own right," he defended himself, before turning on heel and walking towards the Agency doors. "Tell Miss Holt I'll be completing the security installation and will meet her at Meredith's at four." Without preamble, he pushed his way through the Agency doors and left, to the sound of Mildred's laughter following him.

Three months, he thought to himself, and I still haven't figured out how to get my wife to stay where last I left her. Shoving a hand in his pocket, he pressed the elevator button. Well, old sport, you always admired her independence and here's what it gets you. He laughed lightly. It appeared his wife would continue to be a challenge the rest of their lives.

The very thought of that brightened his day, considerably. After all, he was a man that loved a challenge.

Laura exited La Perla with a wholly self-satisfied smile lighting her face. Rem's not going to know what hit him, she laughed softly to himself. I may not be able to walk for a week afterwards, but oh, it will be worth it.

She'd spent the last hour and a half shopping – stunning enough as she loathed the task – in the exclusive lingerie shop in anticipation of the trip she'd planned for she and Remington. She'd finally settled on three little ensembles, each completely different from one another, but all guaranteed to make her husband's pulse race. Because she was inclined to sleep in his pajama top most nights, or in one of his dress shirts when she was seeking comfort, closeness, the few times she'd dressed in some racy lingerie for him, he'd all but fallen to his knees in thanking the stars above. Her own pulse raced in anticipation now, just thinking of his reaction, knowing that whenever she wore them there would be a night of torrid love making to follow.

One little number, however, was reserved for tripping the light fantastic in a location must closer to home. Having already done the fan dance for her Mr. Steele, it was time to make another of his fantasies come true.

Laura was smiling widely and walked with a pep in her step back to the Rabbit, humming prettily to herself, oblivious to the several people who paused to stare at the attractive young woman who was fairly radiating with joy. Her thoughts wandered to the two-piece swim suit she'd also picked up at La Perla – a rather racy little red number that would not only provide optimal skin exposure for tanning but would also stir her husband's blood. You did good, Holt, she patted herself on her back. Two stops left to go and you should still make it to Meredith's in plenty of time to meet Remington.

Her splendid mood came to an abrupt halt, along with her step. Frozen in place, she stared at the Rabbit, alarm and frustration warring within her.

She'd taken care to make sure the top to the Rabbit was up and the doors of the car were locked before she'd headed down the street to shop. Now, she stared at the flower and envelope secured to her windshield by a wiper. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, she scanned the street on all sides, trying to identify anyone familiar. Nothing; not even so much as a twinkle of recognition. In utter frustration she yanked the flower and envelope out from under the wiper, then tossed the flower to the ground before climbing into the car. Dropping her bag and purse onto the passenger seat, she turned on the car letting the air conditioning blast before ripping open the envelope none too neatly.

Two more pictures. The first of Remington handing Astrid into the Auburn, and the second of Remington brushing his lips across Astrid's knuckles while sitting at a table. She lifted a hand to her brow and scrubbed vigorously.

It was apparent that both she and Remington were being followed. As far as she knew, he was not receiving any mysterious pictures or gifts. Every picture sent to her so far suggested that the photographer believed they'd snapped a picture of Remington in a compromising position. Were there two people following them? She found that thought almost more comforting than the idea of another stalker.

Given the frequency at which she was receiving these little gifts, she knew she would have to tell Remington sooner or later. It had already been four days, and if he found out about the little offerings by happenstance he'd be… She searched her mind fruitlessly for the best adjective, as infuriated wouldn't even begin to cover it. Yet, no matter the word, it would not be pretty.

When we come home from our trip, she decidedly definitively. We deserve to enjoy tonight, our vacation, to not have it overcast by whatever this is. As soon as we get back, I'll tell him. Besides, she justified, there will be no more deliveries while we're away. I only have to make it another 40 hours.

The signing of the contracts for the house went off without a hitch, and Remington and Laura found themselves with nearly four hours to twiddle away before they made their way to Astrid Covington's house under the cloak of darkness. Once Remington's well-paid contact at Osteria Mozza called the flat and confirmed Astrid and companion had arrived, the Steele's would depart. One way or the other, their involvement in the Covington case would end tomorrow morning – an appointment set by Laura herself, so all their business would be wrapped before their departure. What lingering skip and asset traces had to be done could be conducted by Mildred and Laura or Remington would review her findings when they returned home.

For now, however, the early evening was all theirs, and Laura had no trouble discerning, by the gleam in his eyes, how Remington would prefer to spend that time. Not that she didn't agree with the idea. For a couple that indulged daily in one another, often multiple times, they'd now been in dry dock for nearly four full days. Her body and heart were humming with the need to be close to him, to have her body joined with his. But neither of them needed that kind of distraction to follow them into their evening forays.

Instead, feigning being tired from the several late nights she'd tried to wait up for him, she suggested that they stretch out and take nap together, especially in light of the fact they had another late night on the way. He seemed inclined to argue, until she looked him over thoroughly from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He straightened slightly, shifting on his feet, immediately realizing she had something on her mind.

"Pull down the covers and strip down, sweetheart. I'll be right back." She spoke in a tender voice, feathering her fingertips down both sides of his jaw, then neck, before stepping away from him and disappearing into the bathroom. A shimmer passed through his body. His brain and heart went to mush whenever she called him by the endearment, and when that endearment was accompanied by her touch? He was utterly powerless, would find a way to give her the world if asked. Now, there was only one thing to do. Easing the comforter and sheet to the end of the bed, he stripped down to his briefs.

Remington nearly swallowed his tongue whole, and his heart rate doubled when Laura emerged from the bathroom wearing only a scant pair of panties, carrying a bottle of lotion. He tried not to groan aloud when a very impertinent part of him came to life, attempting to salute the woman before him. He had a short, firm discussion with his nether region, reminding it that little good would come of its attentiveness. Still, a small groan of disappointment escaped his throat as he took in every one of her delicious freckles, temptingly on display, and the sheer perfection of her petite form.

Little vixen that she was, Laura smiled at his reaction to the sight of her, then laughed aloud at his much louder groan of discontent when she plucked his shirt from the floor and shrugged into it. He found at least a little comfort in the fact that she left the shirt unbuttoned, providing his imagination much food for fodder.

Stepping up to the side of the bed, she stroked her fingers down his cheek and along his jaw.

"Turn over, sweetheart."

This time, Remington gave a small hum of pleasure. Flipping over onto his stomach, he waited for her to climb up on the bed, then settle her bottom on his. After laying the bottle of lotion on the bed, she skimmed her fingers through his hair, then began to massage his scalp.

He lost himself in the touch of her fingers. Wiggling his bottom beneath her, he settled in more comfortably.

This was something else new to their marriage: Laura seeking to provide him exquisite, comforting care, for no other reason than she could. If her calling him 'sweetheart' turned his heart and brain to mush, this left his entire being quivering. After the first time she'd done this for him in Cannes, from time-to-time for several weeks after, he'd tried to recall a single other instance when someone had chosen to take care of him for no other reason than they simply wanted to. Outside of his time spent with the Androkus family, he could think of no one. Certainly, no one in his adult life. Most of the women with which he'd dallied had little interest in him other than testing the rumors of his skill between the sheets. Of the few remaining, he was little more than a challenge: to see if they could succeed where all others had failed by getting him to commit to them.

Once he'd made that realization, he made a second: Even if someone had made such an attempt, he would have scurried away from it. Of all those that passed through his life, it was only the woman soothing her fingers through his hair right now, that he would have trusted enough to turn himself entirely over to her hands to do with as she pleased.

"Mmmm," he hummed quietly. "You keep doing things such as this, I may have to marry you, Miss Holt." His voice was gruff with emotion even as he teased her. Her hands left his hair, leaving him feeling surprisingly bereft. He shifted under her, his body telling her without words that he wanted her hands to return. She laughed softly above him.

"I believe you already have married me, Mr. Steele. A couple of times, as a matter of fact." Opening the bottle of lotion, she poured a generous portion into a palm, then warmed it between her hands before brushing her hands across his shoulders. He shifted beneath her again with a contented sigh.

"Ah, now that you mention it, Mrs. Steele, I believe I have. Smartest thing I've ever done, at that." Helplessly, he hummed again, as her fingers soothed muscles he was not even aware had been tight, until he felt the tension release under her gentle ministrations. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against the back of his neck.

"You sweet talker, you. Keep that up, I may have to keep you around another fifty years or so." Adding more lotion to her hands, she brushed her hands down his spine, then began to massage his lower back.

"Kanis tin zoi mou pio omorfi," he mumbled in answer. Her hands stilled, then with a small laugh, continued to caress.

"Changing languages on me, Rem?" She'd begun to suspect, given his fluidity in Gaelic, that there was a wealth of secrets she had yet to discover about her husband. Over the last months, she begun to decipher the words he'd often whispered to her when they made love or in those quiet moments right before sleep swept her away. She'd come to realize that while attempts to say "I love you" in English still tied his tongue into knots except for rare occasions of extreme emotion, that he could say the words with ease in his native tongue – 'Is tú mo ghrá' or the more heart stopping 'Is tú mo shíorghrá'. There were still many words and phrases said that she had not translated, but figured she had the rest of their lives to do so. But now, it seemed something had drawn him to toss a new language into the mix.

"Perhaps," he murmured, his voice growing drowsy, the words coming slower.

"Greek, by chance?" She smiled, as her hands ran over his sides, feeling his breathing deepen under her hands. She loved being able to do this for him, to him. As much as he enjoyed taking care of her, when she would allow him, she, too, enjoyed caring for him.

"Perhaps," he mumbled with effort.

Setting the bottle of lotion on the bedside table, she carefully moved herself off him, then reached for the alarm clock, setting it for 7:30. She'd barely stretched out on the bed, drawing the covers up and over them, before he turned and gathered her to him, spooning his body around hers. She placed her hand over the one he had wrapped around her waist, her thumb stroking his wedding band as she tried decipher what he'd said to her.

'Zoi mou' was engraved in their wedding bands. 'My life.' But with only those two phrases engraved into their wedding bands at her disposal, she couldn't decipher the rest of what he'd said.

"You make my life more wonderful," Remington breathed quietly against the top of her head, before nuzzling his cheek against her hair. Laura's fingers weaved through his, and she drew his hand up so that she could press her lips against his palm. She felt thoroughly ridiculous when she the tingle of tears threatened behind her eyes. Tucking their joined hands between her breasts, she snuggled more tightly against her husband's body. Eventually she followed him into sleep.

As a heartfelt thanks for all the kind words in the reviews and the personal messages sent to me, an extra two chapters this week. Thank you for continuing to inspire, all of you. - RS