AN:

Please note… this is unbeta'd but I'm lame and couldn't wait.

THIS IS NOT the final chapter.

I know, I know. *hides* When I was editing and re-reading/writing I somehow ended up another 8k words in, so. Um. Sorry, but... yay more chapters? I'll just shut up until I'm a hundred percent sure in future, haha.

Most importantly I hope y'all are staying healthy in these crazy times. Look after yourselves, your families and your neighbors. And wash your hands. And don't hoard. If you want to keep up with me just add me on facebook: Kate HTFM xx


Chapter 31

Papà is sat stoic in front of me, his eyes traveling around the room in sharp assessment. He's like that—aware, alert at all times. I can't help but draw similarities between him and the man he still doesn't think I should've married, because whether he wants to admit it or not, they're so similar at times it makes my head spin.

Max isn't here today. He's disappointed but when we spoke the other day, he said he had something he wanted to discuss and with Max at an age where holding serious conversations for longer than thirty seconds is a chore; I thought it was best.

Papà leans forward, elbows on the tabletop, rubbing his hands together slowly.

"I found out what happened to your Nonna's money."

My mouth drops open a little. "You did?"

"Mmm. Had a couple of contacts do some work for me. It took them a little while... It was signed over to that garbage you were with before."

I hang my head as he continues.

"Whether that's legitimate or whether he forged your signature, I don't know. He bought a diner in—"

"I know where it is," I interrupt, avoiding his eyes.

I could slap my younger self for being idiotic enough to think I was anything more than easy prey to James. It makes me feel sick, how he could face me day after day, tell me he loved me, make me believe it was true; when all that time he was lying to my face. Gambling and snorting away what was mine.

"I'm so sorry. Is there nothing we can do about it?" I ask eventually.

Papà shakes his head. My shoulders slump, feeling guilty, naïve… ashamed. I still can't shake it, even now. The humiliation I feel for letting another person treat me that way. For being so gullible to his true colors, for trusting him above anyone else. The intensity of it has lessened over time, but no matter how hard I've worked at this with Irina, it's the most difficult feeling to shake, especially when things like this surface.

"It's not your fault," Papà says gently.

"That's not true," I say. "I've got to take responsibility for somethin', Papà. I'm sorry. I can't remember whether I did or not. I just..." I trail off, haplessly.

"It's nothing in the grand scheme of things. It doesn't matter. He already paid the price."

I nod, unconvinced. How he can shrug off tens of thousands of dollars, I'll never know. I'm quiet for the rest of our visit, answering distractedly about our plans for Thanksgiving.

"Um, spending it with Masen's mom, his sister-in-law, Esme… and his brother, if he doesn't have to work. Demetri's invited too." I tell him, and then I can't help but confess something I've been observing for a while. "Think he's got a thing for Elizabeth."

Papà doesn't smile often, but he does now. "Really now?"

"Mmmhm. They'd be good together, I think."

Our goodbye lingers today. Maybe Papà can sense I'm upset because he does something he hasn't done before: he pulls me into his embrace. I'm glad for it, my arms winding around his middle as I fight back tears.

"You take care, OK?"

"OK," I echo.

I drive to the diner on a whim, parking in the small lot. My old car is long gone, and for a minute I just sit and watch; the traffic, the neighborhood kids on the corner undeterred by the biting winter cold, still laughing it up, sharing earbuds, jaywalking across to a little newsagent that's opened up across the way.

I look back toward the diner, going to rack and ruin. Boarded up, graffiti everywhere.

This place. It holds so many memories, so many days spent clock watching, living in a perpetual state of anxiousness… and then Masen. Showing up after he helped destroy the place. I can still remember the heat creeping over me when he said my name, the flutter of a heart betraying the attraction I had to him.

I start up the engine again, a heavy sigh, the dull ache in my chest growing bigger the more I think of him. It's the quiet moments where I'm alone when it hits and hurts the most.

...

It's a few days after Thanksgiving and Max's giggles are bordering on hysterical as he runs around the house after Charlotte. The Buzz Lightyear action figure she and Petey spoilt him with is held tightly in his hands, all the buttons being pressed at the same time.

"Buzz-buzz Lightyear to the rescue! I come in peace! To infinity and beyond!"

I almost don't hear the door above the shrieks of laughter, drying off my hands from cleaning up the dishes. My smile fades to a frown when I realize the time.

The knock gets a little louder, a little more impatient. Checking through the viewer, I can see Demetri stood on the porch, bouncing on his feet, his breath rising in the freezing temperatures.

"Hey," I say as I open the door, moving away to let him in. "You've missed dinner but I've just put away some leftovers, I can get you some if you're hungry? Charlotte's here too."

I turn back, but he's not moving.

"No thanks. Doubt I'll be staying long. Just wanted to drop something off." His gnarly face breaks out into a smile and now I'm utterly confused.

"Um, OK?" I come back towards him, pulling at the sleeve of my blouse. "Drop what off?"

He steps to the side, then jerks his head toward his car parked on the street.

My head swims, one hand finding the doorjamb, the other across my mouth.

"But…"

I swallow the lump in my throat, my stomach flipping as I hear the thump of his bag hitting the ground… and I don't need anything else. I'm running down the steps two at a time, barefoot.

My body collides with his, arms wrapping around his neck, as his hands curl around me, holding me deathly tight.

"Oh my God!" I cry pulling back to look at him, to double-check I'm not just imagining him. My voice goes higher in pitch, choked. "You're here."

Masen smiles up at me, cupping my face as my eyes search his. "I'm home."

His mouth is on mine rapidly, hand finding the back of my neck, caressing, sending little jolts down my spine. Slow, tender, tentative, sweet. It's so familiar yet so foreign, but he kisses just as good as I remember. Better. The taste of freedom on his tongue.

"Fuck," he huffs into my mouth, pulling away. I stifle a laugh into his neck, breathing him in. He smells different—not bad, but not what I remember—and his clothes don't look like him either:; a polo shirt, sweatpants. He looks like a frat boy, and I have to fight back the laughter that wants to escape.

"How is this even happening!? You're not supposed to be out for months? I don't understand!"

Masen waves it off. "Eh. Good behavior, freeing up space… Did I surprise you?"

"Yes. I'm… I wasn't. I had no idea! No idea! How did I not know?!" I shake my head, my smile splitting my face. "Oh my God!"

The weight of it hits me like a sledgehammer.

He's here.

He's home.

For real.

The relief is almost paralyzing. All the pressure, the stress of the last few years drains out of me, because I'm not alone anymore.

"Don't cry," he hushes, thumb catching wetness, brushing it away.

I sniff, wiping my eyes. "I'm just… We've been waitin' for this for so long, and now you're here. You're actually here! For real. And you didn't even tell me you jerk."

He laughs as I cling to him tighter—, half laughing, half crying.

"Hey, c'mon, gonna make me cry too." He kisses me again. "Good surprise though, right?"

"The best. Max is gonna be so excited!"

I look towards the house. Our house.

Demetri's disappeared inside, presumably to give us some privacy, but it's freezing out and my teeth are beginning to chatter, goosebumps prickling. Masen picks his bag up, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walk, his lips finding my temple.

He pauses before we go in, twirling me around, kissing me again until I'm against the house. It's deep, frantic, heat licking between us, an undertone of desperation. His bag is on the floor again, one hand under my blouse, thumb sliding over my rib cage, the other gripping my ass, his whole body pushing into mine.

He pulls away, but I whimper 'more'.

"The things I'm gonna do to you," he whispers just before his mouth meets mine again.

"Get a room!" I hear Charlotte holler to our right. "There are kids here, y'know. And neighbors. Sure some of 'em are paying a premium for adult entertainment but that might not be necessary if you're roundin' the bases on your frickin' porch!"

I turn my face to her laughing, Max in her arms. She's turning to him, making kissy faces. "Urgh, Maxi-moo. They're gonna be so icky. How 'bout Auntie Char saves your ears and has you overnight, hmm?"

Masen grins at me as I bite kiss-swollen lips, but then shakes his head.

"Nah. It's cool. I want to spend my first night as a free man with my wife and my kid, all under one roof."

I can't keep the smile off my face as Masen devours re-heated ravioli in our kitchen, telling me how hard it's been keeping it all a secret. He didn't want to get my hopes up, thought this was better.

My eyes are glued to him, Max sat on his lap, watching his every movement, the surrealness of him being here not wearing off anytime soon. I still can't quite get my head around it.

"You make this yourself?" he asks, dragging his finger around the plate and licking it clean.

"Uh-huh. I mean, I didn't make the pasta, I buy that, but the filling and the sauce is Nonna's recipe."

"It's great."

I shrug, embarrassed.

"No, really. Embracin' your roots?"

I raise my hand and barely pinch my fingers. "Tiny bit. Maybe."

Masen looks down at Max, playing with his fork. "Ain't we lucky? Your Mom's pretty incredible."

Max yawns in response, eyes heavy.

"When does he go to bed?"

"About now. He usually goes off OK, but he still wakes up at night… ends up in my bed… I'm just warning you. He's brutal when it comes to space."

Masen just nods. "OK. Can I- Can I help you?" He sounds nervous, and it makes my heart squeeze. I know he's been worried about this. Being Dad. Visits are one thing, this is entirely different but even that can't dim my smile.

"Let's put you to work, Daddy."

...

Stood in the doorway of Max's room, I watch as Masen reads him a bedtime story, Max snuggled against his chest. I take out my cell and snap a picture, wanting to remember every little detail, savor it, bask in something I hoped for so badly; but for many reasons, it almost felt like an impossible goal. And now it's happening, my heart feels like it can't quite take it.

I could never have imagined him doing anything like this when we first met. Not ever. I've tried not to imagine it either because it hurt too much to acknowledge all the things they were both missing out on.

But now… silent tears sneak down my face, emotions play king.

My boys. My family. Together at long last.

It's everything I wanted.

When Masen finally tucks Max in and slips out the room, he finds me sitting on the landing, crying. Tugging me to my feet, we hold each other until I'm reaching up on my tiptoes and kissing him until I can't breathe.

"Show me our room," he murmurs.

I take his hand, leading him to the first room at the top of the stairs, at the front of the house. His side of the bed is ever the reminder he's missing. Nothing personal on his nightstand, a wardrobe full of his clothes from his apartment that have been hanging untouched for years.

There's a moment just after the bedroom door clicks closed behind us where he scrutinizes me from head to toe.

His hand still in mine, he steps closer, his thumb coming to trace my lower lip.

"Thank you. For waitin' for me." He kisses the corner of my mouth. "For Max." The other corner. "For holding everythin' together." His eyes search mine. "I love you."

The last kiss is the one that deepens. A match being struck, a switch flipped. Knees weak, anticipation pulsing, he walks me back until my legs hit the bed and I'm lying on sheets that only smell of me, impatience burning as his weight settles between my legs.

We aren't slow or gentle. He's biting at my neck and my tits and down my stomach, hands shaking as he draws back and undoes all the buttons on my blouse.

"You weren't lyin' about working out," I murmur, trying to cover myself with my hands as he sheds the polo shirt. He was built before but now he's bigger. His arms, his chest, his legs. I squirm nervously, insecurities flaring up. "Then there's me…"

"Still killin' me." His mouth by my ear, attacking my neck again, hand warm as he unhooks my bra. "Still the hottest thing I've ever seen. I've been thinkin' 'bout this for so long, B. Your tits, your pussy, your ass, those little fuckin' moans you make when I'm makin' you feel real good."

My hips raise as his palm glides down my side, pulling off my jeans and my panties, until I'm bare underneath him. He groans when his fingers touch hot wet flesh, and the hiss coming out of my mouth is almost pained.

I reach for his cock, but he moves away. "Bella, if you touch my dick right now, I'm gonna lose it. Not gonna be able to apologize enough for this non-event."

I laugh. "We got time, not expectin' a marathon after so long—"

"Too fuckin' long. Now, c'mere and sit on my face."

I blink at him, but he's already moving me so I'm positioned over him. My grip on the headboard tightens as he works me over, licking and sucking until I'm panting his name and begging for him. He doesn't stop though, gripping my thighs to hold me still until I'm muffling my own bliss by biting down hard on my arm.

I scoot down his body, hovering over him, the tip of his cock hot against me as he leans forward to capture my mouth with his, tasting myself on his tongue. He groans, my hands cradling his face, thumbs brushing the stubble along his jaw.

His hands finding my hips, squeezing and pinching. I can tell he's aching to push into me, push me down onto him.

"On the pill," I tell him, answering the question in his hesitation.

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, he eases himself in slowly. My worries about how this would feel after having a baby—and after so long—are washed away with mutual moans of satisfaction when we're finally flush against each other.

"I missed you. This," he says with a shuddery inhale. "God, you feel so fuckin' good. So tight and wet and hot. Fuck, baby."

His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as I roll my hips slowly over him. His eyes squeezing closed in concentration. When they open, there's fire dancing as he watches me.

"So fucking beautiful, B. Shit."

Our movements quicken, suddenly frantic, desperate. "I can't," he grinds out, shaking his head. "You feel too good." When he comes a few seconds later, it's my name on his lips as he shudders, muscles tensing beneath me.

We laugh off the speed of it, touching and talking until he's inside me again a few hours later and then again; until we're both a sweaty tangle of limbs on crumpled sheets.

"I'm so glad you're home," I whisper into his ear just before we fall asleep, wrapped up in each other.

"Me too. I ain't ever leavin' you again. I swear."

...

Hands pull me by my hips back onto him, over and over. I'm close, his cock hitting all the right places.

"I can't get enough of you. Jesus," Masen growls, hand coming to tease my clit, a kiss to my back.

"Harder," I moan. "Fuck me harder."

That's what tips me over the edge. Him too. His weight slamming into me, a snarl at the back of his throat.

We slow; him pulsing, me clenching, riding it out together.

No sooner has he pulled out, Max is crying from his room.

"Oh, shit," I pant, looking for clothes that are strewn all over the place.

Nothing like a dose of reality to kill any afterglow.

Naptime is over.

"I got him," Masen says, kissing me deep, reaching for boxers and jeans. He disappears to our ensuite as Max's cries get louder.

The mom in me wants to move, run and grab him, but I've got to step back and let Masen do these things too. Trust someone else to be at his beck and call. It's harder than I thought it would be; sharing parental duties that used to be mine alone.

Masen disappears out the room as I flop back on the bed catching my breath.

He isn't wrong, I can't get enough either. Making up for all the time we missed. Hot, fast, and dirty; to downright achingly slow and tender. Anytime we can, anywhere we can. Just because we can.

"Hey, little guy, you just wake up, huh? You worried?" I hear Masen say from Max's room.

"Mama gone. Dadda gone!" Max replies in his best angry voice.

"Nah, we were here. Just cos you can't see us, don't mean we're not around."

I smile. Masen's really trying. It's been a tough month with him settling back in at home. There's this frenetic energy around him. He wants to do everything and nothing, and I'm still having to remind him that there's time for everything.

I guess it's all adjustment. He's lived in a micromanaged, cutthroat environment for over two years. To now be able to do what he wants, when he wants—for the most part—is novel.

He still has to have regular meetings with his parole officer, submit to random drug tests, and abide by a curfew, but apart from that...

I startle as Masen pushes our bedroom door open again, Max in his arms as I pull sheets over me.

"Look, there's Mommy."

"Hey, baby."

"Mama sleep?"

"Aaah. No," Masen says, with a laugh, eyes shooting over to me, amused. "You wanna go out for lunch?"

"Yeah, sure. Give me like thirty minutes?"

I'm ready in forty, a quick shower, getting dressed in black skinny jeans, knee-high boots, and a black leather jacket, hair thrown up and a little makeup thrown on.

We don't go anywhere too fancy, just a restaurant that doesn't mind wild toddlers running around, bringing us all the menus and bursting into tears when his juice box runs out before the food has even arrived.

"Damn, he's hard work," Masen says, retrieving him for the fifth time, sitting him down in the high chair despite the protests. "Cute, but fu- really hard work."

I hand Max some coloring crayons and the children's menu with a color by numbers on the back, hoping it'll distract him for more than a minute.

"He's just exploring. Sitting is way too boring at this age."

"Reckon he's gonna be trouble when he's older," Masen says. "Sign of things to come… if he's anything like me…"

"Don't scare me like that," I moan with a soft laugh. "Gonna be grey all over by the time I hit forty if that's the case."

The waitress arrives with our food and with it I can see her staring at us, like she's trying to place a face. Sometimes it clicks, sometimes it doesn't.

"Do I…" she trails off, unsure. "Sorry, I'm sure I recognize y'all from somewhere."

Masen clears his throat and shakes his head. "I don't think so."

She peers at him for what seems like a beat too long before she disappears again.

"That happen a lot?"

"Not so much anymore," I tell him as I chop up Max's chicken nuggets. "Happened a lot at the start. Hated it. Mind, should've seen the faces of the moms at one of the baby groups when they found out who I was. Could've cried."

Masen frowns. "You never told me that."

"You were dealing with enough. Besides, don't need those kinds of friends, y'know? Better off with the ones who've stuck by."

"You never talk about Maria no more either."

I stab at a fry with my fork, tight-lipped.

"We had a fight when I went to pick up my stuff after you got sentenced. She refused to believe it was Alec who'd done what he did. Got a bit heated. Anyway, sure she's doing alright if they're engaged now."

Masen just shakes his head. "That's never gonna last."

"Why'd you think that?"

"Alec ain't the type to settle down. His first wife was proof of that."

I skip over the fact Alec's been married before because really, that doesn't surprise me.

"Neither were you," I point out. "Now look at you. Married with a kid. You ever think we'd end up here? If you'd have told me that when I first met you, I would've laughed in your face."

He softens when he looks between Max and me; he doesn't speak for a minute, finishing a mouthful of burger.

"I didn't want those things 'til you. You were different, you know that."

"Not blonde, for one."

His eyebrows raise.

"Oh, come on! Tanya, Kate. There's a theme there."

He just shrugs.

"Took me a while to figure it out," he admits. "But you weren't... fake. No agenda. You were real. And you were hurtin' and I wanted to make it better. I wanted to be a better person for you. I still do. You made me feel like I could do that. Be that person."

"And you say you aren't good with words." I lean over the table and kiss him hard.

"Me kiss!" a little voice says to my left. I turn and plant a couple on baby soft cheeks as Max giggles.

"You are that person, Masen," I say, because he needs to know. He did make it better.

We leave the restaurant with each of us holding one of Max's hands as he walks in between us, smiling brightly as we pass people on our way to the lot.

I think I love these little things the most. The ones most people take for granted. Just being together.

We're about to cross to the car when a familiar head of dark, curly hair catches my eye, waiting by a silver Mercedes, a thinner Ben at his side, smoking as he leans against it.

I look at Masen, eyes wide, finding his jaw set. "How—" I begin, but he's already fishing keys out of his pocket, letting Max's hand go.

"Get in the car."

His tone tells me there's no room for discussion.

"What's the matter, Princess? You ain't even going to say 'hello'?" Alec asks to my retreating back.

I pause, picking Max up, looking at him with the disdain he deserves.

"Why say hello to bad news?"


#freedmasen ;)