"If anything happens, call us," Bash says as he presses a kiss on Emilie's head who is in Kenna's arms. He spots his brother doing the same with his own wife and child.
"Sebastian, Francis, you're acting as if you'll never see them again," Catherine says warily, reaching out to take Emilie out of Kenna's arms as Henry clicks his fingers for Mary to let go of James into his care.
Mary falters. "B-But-"
"Bring my grandson over, please," Henry says with a sigh.
She shares a glance with Francis and Francis winces as he nods. "Let him, Mary."
Mary hands James over. "I have all of our contact details written down. Along with his doctor, his nurse, his nanny-"
"Dear Lord," Catherine mutters. "It's as if we never raised ten children."
Henry chuckles, pressing a loving kiss on James's head. "I understand their reservations..."
"We will have them smoking cigars and drinking Scotch and martinis by the time they return," Catherine jests.
"Give my daughter back to me," Kenna says, reaching for Emilie but Catherine turns with a cackle.
"Darling, she isn't serious," Bash says, laughing.
Kenna pouts. "I know but your parents haven't exactly... been present."
Bash turns to Henry and Catherine. "You're right, bring us back our daugh-"
"Get out before I get the security guards on you!" Henry cries out, exasperated.
Kenna sends one last longing glance at Emilie before she's ushered out along with Bash, Francis and Mary. "What do we do now?" She asks, stunned when the doors are slammed shut in their faces.
"Enjoy our holiday?" Francis asks.
They nod.
...
"I can't!"
Bash turns to his wife, cupping her cheeks. "Just a little more and it'll lessen."
She slaps his hands off and checks her mirror again. "I can't go out like this! It's huge," she cries out. "I bet it's those hormones shit I'm on."
"I wanted to wait but you were all like 'I need to start taking all of these hormones right now so we can increase our chances of having a baby!' and I was like-"
"Shut up and sit down," Kenna says, trying to pop the pimple on her forehead once again.
"Exactly!"
"Sebastian!"
"Okay," Bash mutters, chuckling as he hugs her from behind. "Wear a hat. The Panama one I got you."
Kenna sighs and uses some cotton wool to wipe away some blood from her forehead as she nods. "Okay. I guess it will look cute with my romper."
"Speaking of rompers," Bash starts, lifting various of outfit choices from his wife's suitcase. "Did you really need three large suitcases for a week-long trip?"
Kenna gives him a look, grabbing one of her swimsuits from his grip. "I have appearances to uphold. And I get to flaunt off my new clothesline at the boutique. We're selling something here and who better to model them than me, the designer herself?"
"Smart," Bash says approvingly, lifting up a red, lacy bra. "Although, you're not the owner of Victoria's Secret."
"That's for you, idiot," Kenna replies, amused as he reddens. "Just because we're trying doesn't mean we can't spice things up."
Bash holds a hand to his heart. "How thoughtful. But you do know that this will be off your body the second you put it on?"
Kenna tilts her head. "Is that a bet?"
"I mean, we're not doing anything with Francis and Mary after dinner..."
"Grab the matching panties," she tells him, going to grab her hat.
...
"This is lovely, isn't it?" Mary asks, taking a sip of her champagne. "A week away from the kids..."
"No early morning feeds," Bash adds.
"Or late-night bedtime stories," Francis says wistfully.
Kenna clicks her fingers. "No!" She cries out, making them jump. "We need this. Otherwise, the next time we get to do this will be in eighteen years or who knows? We'll give them siblings by then and have to wait until they're eighteen!"
Francis pouts, grabbing his phone from the centre of the table where the rest of theirs are. "We should just check."
Bash nods, taking his phone as well. "James is teething and Emilie hates new places unless you rock her to sleep."
"Just little reminders-"
"Put the damn phones down," Mary says cutting her husband off and shocking the men. "Kenna's right. It's for a week. We can survive this week of kids-free days and able to drink to our heart's desires!"
Kenna grins, reaching for her phone. "Mary gets it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got to use the loo and track-"
"Leave your phone at the table," Bash tells her, eyebrow raised.
Kenna curses. "Damn it. But I really do need to use the loo..." She gets up and grabs her clutch, making her way over to the ladies' restroom.
As she washes her hands, she politely smiles at the fake blonde beside her who is doing up her lipstick on her lip-filler filled lips. The woman then checks her boobs, flat waisted tummy and gives Kenna a coy wink before grabbing her things and leaving.
Kenna looks down at her outfit. She's wearing a black tight-fitting sleeveless romper that ties around her neck paired with some black courts. She's not normally so self-conscious but as she stares down at her boobs, she can't help but think how flat they are.
Sighing, she grabs her stuff and heads back to the table.
"What's up?" Bash asks after a while and the other couple, checking the views out the window.
Kenna shakes her head. "Nothing," she says, waving it off and taking a sip of her drink. "Uh, what should we order?"
"We could order something together," Mary suggests. "The seafood platter?"
"I'm allergic," Francis reminds her.
"Exactly," is his wife's cheeky reply before they jokingly decide against seafood during their dining at the restaurant.
Kenna glances over the menu, surprised at all the expensive choices. They are in the wealthiest of the wealthiest's playground, no expenses spared. "Uh, I'll go for the salad."
"Go for something meatier," Francis tells her. "Like the sirloin steak. Oh, my God, that looks delicious."
"Yeah, I'll probably go for the duck," Mary mumbles thoughtfully.
Kenna rescans the menu, a hand going onto her flat stomach. "Nothing too filling. I wouldn't want to be bloated."
"Get whatever you want, chérie. Francis, you can order for me, I need to take this," Bash says before he excuses himself to answer a business call.
"Or we can go splits on the chicken dish," Mary asks Kenna.
Kenna nods. "Sure. It's a bit pricey."
"I'm paying," Francis says, downing his drink and waving the waiter over. "Bash and I are taking it in turns so you ladies don't have to worry about anything at all. We've even put aside some time for your shopping habits."
Kenna scoffs, taking her card out. "I've got today," she tells him.
"What?"
"Independent women," Mary says, high-fiving Kenna. "Chivalry is nice and all but not all the time."
"Remind me in bed then," Francis quips as Kenna giggles, making Mary blush. He grins at them when the waiter finally arrives. "Two sirloin steaks and the chicken platter please."
"Coming right up, sir. And drinks?"
"Another round of what we were having and another bottle of champagne," Kenna tells him, resting her chin on her hands.
The waiter eyes her appreciatively, a smile gracing his lips. "Anything else, ma'am?"
"I think my wife's satisfied for now, thank you very much," they hear as Bash slides his phone back into the middle of the table and gives the waiter a tight smile.
"Of course, sir. I will be right back with your drinks," the waiter mumbles, leaving.
Bash turns to his wife. "I might need to lock you up if that's the kind of reaction you're receiving here."
She giggles, slapping his chest lightly. "Baby, I've only got eyes for you..."
He meets her lips with a soft kiss, amusing the other couple. "You better," he whispers teasingly.
...
Kenna sighs heavily, checking her body shape in the reflection of the mirror, even grabbing onto her hair and lifting it up for a better look of her back. Her hips are a little bigger than they were the first time she arrived in France and she looks bloated, cursing eating too much. The food was expensive, she wasn't about to waste it when there are children starving.
She spots Bash behind her and she laughs softly when she feels her bra loosen and the red item is slid down her arms and off her body completely before her husband attacks her neck and back with kisses.
"You're sad," Bash mumbles against her skin. "Why?"
She holds her breasts. "Should I get bigger boobs?"
"Wait, what?" He asks, pulling away from her skin in confusion. "Why?"
She sighs, rolling her eyes as she rubs her bloated tummy instead. "Do I look fat?"
"Kenna, what's brought on all of the insecurity?" Bash asks, running his hands down the sides of her body and wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Am I beautiful to you?" She asks softly, furrowing her brows at him through the mirror.
Bash scoffs softly and kisses the side of her neck. "Very beautiful, but you know that already."
"I don't know-"
"You do," he insists, turning her so she can see his eyes. "You know you're beautiful. What's brought this on?"
Kenna sighs, blinking back tears. "When I went to the restroom, I saw this bottle blonde and she looked so... perfect. Everything's fake of course but it looked sexier and I'm just this bloated, ugly woman."
He starts chuckling, kissing her nose. "Baby, you're beautiful. I'd rather a natural wife than someone pumped full of botox. As for your breasts... I thought we agreed they were mine to judge?" He says teasingly.
Kenna raises a brow. "And what do you think of them?"
"I think," he starts, pulling her towards the bed. He lifts her into his arms and carefully places her on the bed before kissing her deeply, nibbling at her bottom lip so his tongue can slip in as her hands wind around his neck. He then pulls away, staring down at her dazed face, her lips red and puffy. He grins.
"What do you think?" She asks, slightly impatient.
Bash raises a brow, smirking. "I think..." He repeats before kisses the valley between her breasts. "That you are the most beautiful creature in the world. And all the other women are jealous of you."
She gasps when she feels his mouth wrap around her left nipple and her eyes close, her back arching as he presses her back down. "Bash..."
"They're beautiful," Bash says before giving her other nipple the attention it deserves. "You don't need to change."
When they're both sated, Kenna rubs her finger up and down her sleeping husband's back as he lays on his stomach. She presses a kiss on his shoulder and slips out of bed, retrieving her panties and bra before putting on a robe and heading to the balcony for some fresh air.
She feels stupid for being so insecure but visiting Monaco and seeing all the arm candies, rich heiresses and wealthy women and their sense of beauty made from falsities made her very anxious. As if any of these women could easily steal her husband away from her.
He used to go for girls like the woman from the restroom. Although they never lasted for too long and were mostly one-night stands. But the fact is, he engaged with them.
"Oh, hello."
She turns and sees Francis stepping out of his and Mary's hotel room for a cigarette and she rolls her eyes playfully, saying, "No parenting for a week means you can smoke?"
He takes a draw and blushes. "Mary said I could only once and I chose now so I could detox the rest of the week without feeling antsy," he explains.
"Ah," she says. "So, when the hotel manager offered us that complementary gold-leaf wrapped cigars-"
"Bash and I totally asked if they could offer it without your presences behind your backs as you guys went to stare at the fountain features," Francis replies, chuckling as she giggles.
"Wonderful," she says sarcastically before sighing wistfully. "Where's Mary?"
Francis quickly checks inside the hotel room before turning to her. "Still fast asleep."
"Ah," Kenna says, clicking her tongue. "Bash is sleeping too."
Francis eyes her neck and raises an amused eyebrow. "I can tell why."
Kenna gasps, tightening her robe around her body some more. "Says you," she mumbles, rubbing at her love bites. "We don't talk much."
"Because we're too busy having sex with our partners," Francis jokes and Kenna pulls a face before chuckling. "Ah, we're at that point of our relationship when we can talk about sex without feeling awkward."
"Nice!" She says giving him an air high-five.
She watches as he continues to smoke, watching the bright lights before them and she looks over towards the sea. Somewhere on the docks is her new yacht and she lets out a soft chuckle, making Francis turn to her.
"I begged for a yacht," she explains. "And asked for this whole holiday because Leeza told me that Bash is really inventive when it comes to sex."
Francis cringes. "A subject from our many conversations," he replies. "So, this is just a week dedicated to sex?"
"Yep," Kenna replies nonchalantly.
"Smart," Francis mutters lightly. "Well, thanks for the invite."
"You can have sex with your wife," Kenna informs him, making them chuckle. "Does Mary get self-conscious?"
Francis nods a little. "All the time," he says.
"She used to date shitty guys," Kenna tells him. "You know them."
"Arseholes, they were," Francis agrees. "Knocked her confidence down and everything. But she's the one laughing because she's in a happy marriage and a total MILF."
Kenna grins. "Treat her well. She's like a sister to me and she didn't grow up with a sister so the girls and I were tasked with making her feel better about herself. Which is ridiculous because I spent years being jealous of her," Kenna says softly. "She's really pretty and deserves the world."
"I promise you, all her tears from me will be happy ones," Francis replies, smiling warmly. "And you have no reason to be jealous. Even Mary's jealous of you. You used to turn a lot of heads and not just guys' apparently." He's blushing now and Kenna nods in confirmation.
"I've had girlfriends," she admits. "But I'm nothing special."
Francis scoffs. "Bash would disagree. Worships the ground you walk on. He was a mess when you left for weeks."
"He was?"
"Kept wondering whether to send a PI to find you or to give you time," Francis continues. "He just wanted you back home. He adores you."
"I'm sorry I hurt him."
"We have to deal with that," Francis says honestly. "Hurting the ones we love even if we don't mean to."
Kenna nods a little, shivering. "Well, I won't be hurting him intentionally anymore."
"Good."
And then they settle into a comfortable silence.
...
"We need new curtains," Kenna says as the four walks past a luxury curtains store.
Bash rolls his eyes and they head inside and view the many curtains the store has to offer. "Have you seen the price tags on some of these?" He asks his brother quietly.
Francis grins. "Grin and bear it brother, they sense fear," he replies lightly as Mary and Kenna scan through multiple curtains, talking in excitement.
"Baby," Kenna calls Bash over who is on his phone again. She gestures to the light grey Louis Vuitton curtains. "What do you think of this one for the new baby's nursery?"
Bash doesn't bother to look up as he hums a, "Sure, looks great."
Kenna eyes him suspiciously, a brow quirking upwards in slight disbelief as she decides to test the waters and drags him to a navy blue Gucci set. "What do you think of this one for our study, amore?"
"If that's what you prefer," he mutters, tapping a text message out.
She grins, sharing a look with Mary before deciding to push her luck some more and take him over to another branded set that is gold in colour, gesturing for the store assistant to start collecting the ones she's 'approved'.
"Baby, I was thinking of this one for the gym to go over the blinds!" She tells him, checking the price tag. It's a whopping twenty-thousand euro.
"If you like it, then get it," Bash says distractedly as he excuses himself for another call. "It's Nice!" He says over his shoulder.
Kenna sighs heavily and nods at the assistant as Mary and Francis go through their options as well. As she's rung up, she asks, "What's the damage?"
"Forty-two thousand euro, Ma'am," the store assistant replies.
Kenna smirks to herself, collecting her new curtains. "Thank you very much."
...
"Kenna, you spent forty-two thousand euro on curtains?" Bash cries out, looking at the invoice in disbelief. "We don't even need curtains. I thought you were window-shopping."
Kenna scoffs, turning to face him from her position at the vanity. "If I recall, you said 'if you like it, then get it'," she replies coyly. "I liked them and got them."
Bash sighs heavily, stuffing the invoice into her handbag. "We can't return them so I get we'll have to fit them in somehow."
"I already said. The nursery for the new baby, the study and the gym," Kenna says dismissively as she turns back to the mirror and brushes her hair out for their next outing. "If you hate my spending habits, you should speak up."
"It's not that I hate them," he says. "It's just that are they necessary? Like we don't need curtains but you need to keep your wardrobe in-season every month."
Kenna eyes him again. "They were cute curtains. It's not only us who needs to keep up appearances but our home is a big indicator of the people we are. We can't entertain guests with curtains that are outdated or ugly."
"My mother gifted us some of those curtains."
"We can save them for special occasions," Kenna says, her voice becoming high as she turns back to the mirror.
"You better start praying she continues to love you," he replies, spraying some fresh aftershave on.
Kenna stands and comes over to kiss his lips. "Next time, when we go shopping together, actually actively pay attention."
"Fine," he mumbles. "Did we really need the gold one? We're just begging to be burgled then."
Kenna smirks, dusting lint off his shoulders. "We can save them for our sex dungeon then."
He chokes. "What?!"
She cackles, shaking her head as she grabs her new dress and puts it on in the bathroom where her makeup is. "You're so easily teasable..."
...
"What's going on in Nice?" Kenna asks after the thirtieth time her husband has checked his phone in the past two hours.
"Nothing for you to worry about," Bash replies, putting his phone away as Francis looks at him warily.
"Is it-"
"Shut up."
Kenna shares a look with Mary. "What is it?"
"A builder was injured at the site," Bash starts tiredly. "I'm dealing with it but he's looking for a huge payout and my dad wants us to put our foot down on it."
"What the hell?" Mary breathes out, turning to her own husband. "What does this mean?"
Francis winces, shrugging. "It means nothing. We're negotiating a suitable settlement to keep things quiet."
"Is there anything shady going on here?" Kenna asks them.
"Of course, not!" Bash replies. "If this goes to court, everyone will realise that the builder put himself at risk to none of our fault. But we're going to just give him the money he so desperately wants because we're kind like that."
"Or are keeping something quiet," Kenna retorts.
Bash furrows his brows at her. "So you'd rather us win at court and him going to pay however much in lawyer fees and court fees? There's nothing wrong, the situation will be sorted out and we can continue this lovely dinner, okay?"
Kenna nods, sighing as she grabs her wine and takes a sip from it. "Right." She sets her jaw. "I thought this week was going to be about us?"
"It is about us-"
"It's about work," Kenna tells him angrily. "Ever since I came back, you've been all about work."
"Well, I took that time off to look after our daughter," Bash retorts. "You know, the baby you wanted us to adopt and avoided for two damn weeks."
Francis's eyes widen. "Uh, guys? Not the time or place."
Kenna rolls her eyes. "Tell your dad to deal with it or next time, you'll need a brand new phone because I'll chuck that one at the bottom of the sea!"
"I will work if I want to especially as you like floundering our money away on meaningless stuff we don't need," Bash replies.
"You said if I wanted them, I could get them!"
"Doesn't mean you should get the most expensive curtains. We don't even need curtains!" Bash cries out, flustered.
"Return them then!"
"We can't!"
Mary slams the table. "Listen up, you two are going to shut up and we're going to enjoy the rest of this dinner and then you can argue when we're not being looked at as if we're the craziest people in the country!"
Kenna sighs and nods. "Whatever," she mutters, rubbing her forehead as she feels a headache coming on. "Let's go for the duck today..."
...
Kenna folds up her last piece of clothing, placing it into her suitcase before zipping it up and placing it beside the others at the door. She quietly passes Bash as he also packs his stuff into his one suitcase and she rolls her eyes with a sigh before admitting defeat and falling back on the bed, her eyes on the ceiling.
"Sorry about yesterday," she says. "I know you work hard and your dad expects a lot out of you. I trust you to have things covered when it comes to your job and I have no right to judge you if you aren't in the wrong in the first place."
He gets on top of her, eyebrow raised. "You annoy me so much, you know?"
She smiles wryly, her hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'll work my charm on that store assistant and get a full refund."
"Forget about it. I took a good look at them and they're pretty nice," he says. "I'm sorry for being an arse and focusing on work when it's supposed to be a week away from all of that. I'm also sorry for throwing Emilie at your face. We're past that, that was very unfair of me to do."
Kenna swallows hard, looking down at a button on his shirt. "There will always be more holidays where we can focus on us and our kids. Let's just enjoy the time we have now when you're not on the phone or busy."
"Okay," Bash says, slipping his phone out of his pocket and turning it off. "This whole day's about you."
"Yeah?"
"And tomorrow, we'll go shopping..."
"Yeah?" Kenna asks, her lips quirking at the edge a little.
He nips her ear. "And we can buy another set of that gorgeous lingerie I took off you the other night... Maybe in my favourite colour."
Kenna purses her lips in thought. "I think I can rock a green set," she replies coyly. "Only if you let it stay on for at least ten minutes before you rip it off."
Bash chuckles. "No promises," he says, getting off the bed and pulling her up. "When we get to the docks, you need to close your eyes."
Kenna tilts her head in confusion. "Why?"
"Because I have a surprise for you," he replies as he goes over to start wheeling their suitcases out. "Come on, I'm sure they're waiting for us downstairs already."
Kenna giggles, making sure they've packed everything and left nothing behind.
...
"Can I open my eyes now?"
Bash pecks her cheek. "Go ahead."
When she opens her eyes, Kenna gasps when she sees the superyacht in front of them. Her eyes land on the name and she turns to her husband in disbelief, shaking her head a little as she giggles.
"The Mckenna?" She reads, brows raised.
"I'm so jealous," Mary says, shielding her eyes from the light. "Francis, where's my yacht?"
Francis glares at his brother. "We'll see, darling," he replies as the captain moves to start bringing their luggage inside.
As their husbands help the captain, Kenna and Mary link arms and admire the yacht, following the men up the ramp to board the yacht. As they board, the kitchen staff serve the women with champagne and Kenna walks around the floor they're on, admiring the detailing.
"I can't believe that Henry wanted rid of this," she mumbles. "I wonder how much it costs."
"You don't need to worry about that," her husband says. "As long as you're happy."
Kenna furrows her brows a little but nods, grinning. "You could fit Arsenal's stadium in here twice," she tells him.
"Do you love it?" Bash asks her.
"I do," she says. "But seriously, how much did you pay your father for it because I wasn't expecting it to be this big! Maybe just a little baby yacht."
Bash sighs, taking his phone out of his pocket and tapping on it before he shows her the screen, hearing her gasp. "It doesn't matter."
"We better host many events on this thing because that's a lot of money for a brief visit," she says, rubbing her head. "I'm sorry-"
"No, it's fine," her husband says, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "I like it myself. We can travel the world during the Summer holidays with the kids. Invite your family, go on couple's getaways..." He pulls her downstairs into the living area where Mary and Francis have made themselves comfortable watching the chef prepare their lunch. "No stress."
Kenna nods and grins. "No stress," she says, clinking her glass with his.
Later that evening, Kenna wakes up and sees the sunset sky above her and she chuckles softly, covering her face once she's realised what's just happened. Indulging in a little too much alcohol, she somehow managed to convince her husband to make love under the stars and she turns to him, fast asleep on his stomach as she pulls the blanket up around her chest.
The staff are indoors and they're quite away from land, in the ocean somewhere and everything's peaceful and serene as she feels the yacht sway side to side a little.
"Hmm," Bash groans a little as his eyes open. "Hey."
"Hi," she says, grinning. "That was quite something..."
Bash turns so he's on his back now. "Leeza told me she told you about the places I took girls for sex."
Kenna blushes. "Adventurous," she mutters.
"Kenna, you're my wife. Wherever we have sex or make love doesn't matter as long as we're with each other," Bash tells her, turning onto his side to rest his arm over her stomach.
"I know, it's silly," she mumbles, bashful. "But I quite enjoyed what we did a bit ago..."
He chuckles. "Well, you're the first woman I've had sex with on a yacht."
"Will I be the first to have it in it too?"
"Yeah," her husband replies cheekily. "Honestly though, don't worry about the other girls. You're the only woman on my mind."
Kenna nods and smiles a little. "I'm just scared you'll get bored of me or something," she whispers softly. "Like I'm not the most beautiful wife-"
"Awh, Kenna," her husband tuts, pulling her to him easily. "Shut up and listen, okay?"
"Okay," she says, chuckling wryly.
"I will never get bored of you," Bash promises her. "And you are the most beautiful woman in the world and trust me, I've met a lot of women and none of them compares to you. I think I liked it when you were vain."
Kenna snorts, slapping his chest lightly. "Shut up."
"I'm speaking the truth, Beautiful," he whispers, kissing her softly and biting her lip lightly when he pulls away. "I'll screw you anywhere. Bedroom, yacht, lift, anywhere."
Kenna bites her lip and rolls on top of him. "Oh, yeah?"
"Oh, yeah," Bash replies as she kisses him deeply.
"Since you said that," she tells him with a grin as she slides down his frame, her head between his thighs. "I'm going to treat you."
He ends up screaming her name in the middle of the ocean.
...
"Oh, thank God!"
Francis raises his eyebrows as his mother almost chucks James into his arms, sharing an amused glance with his wife. "All went well?"
"He's teething! You didn't warn us!" Catherine cries out. "Do you know how many designer shirts he's chewed on?!"
"And as for you two," Henry starts, placing Emilie into Kenna's waiting arms. "She cried all night every night."
"It was hell for the first two days," Catherine informs the parents. "But we had the nanny deal with them for the last three days."
Bash scoffs, pressing a quick kiss on Emilie's head. "I knew we should have gone for Leeza and Margot instead."
"Well, we survived somehow," Catherine mutters. "Now, leave my house. I have work to do."
When they get home, Kenna puts Emilie to bed after the baby falls asleep. As much as they want to spend time with her, babies have to sleep and Emilie's still at the point when she's awake for seven hours a day.
"Wine?" Bash offers when he looks up and sees her enter the kitchen. It's late and she shakes her head.
"Sick of it from the week we've had," she tells him, chuckling a little. "And that twenty-five thousand euro bottle didn't help things either. Urgh, I'm never drinking again."
"We both say that yet we still drink," he husband replies with a grin as he pours himself a glass anyway.
She takes a seat the counter island, watching him move around as he searches the fridge for something to eat. "Hey, do you want to go out somewhere?"
"Tonight?"
"Yeah, with Emilie."
Bash frowns, checking his watch. "It's eleven at night."
"Yeah, but we've been to the place later than that," she replies and it dawns on him. "Quiet nights."
"Get the car ready, I'll get Emilie."
Kenna quite enjoys quiet nights at The Louvre. Staring at paintings with wine but she doesn't drink as she holds Emilie in her arms and stares at the painting in curiosity.
"What do you think was going through his mind when he painted it?" She asks her husband, turning to him.
Bash purses his lips in thought before saying, "I don't know. Maybe he was dreaming about it and needed to put into a canvas."
"I've had crazy nightmares before," Kenna mumbles, returning to the piece. "I'll never put them onto a canvas because I forget about them straight after."
Bash chuckles, playfully rolling his eyes before they move onto the next painting as he takes a sip from his glass. "Remember this one?"
"Remind me," his wife says with a shake of her head.
"The Charging Chasseur," Bash tells her. "'Chasseur' means 'hunter' or 'shooter' in this painting. Théodore Géricault painted a mounted Napoleonic cavalry officer who is ready to attack. It represents romanticism and the horse is riding away from an unseen assailant."
"What was the painting made from again?"
Bash turns to her. "Oil. Very popular in France those days." He says something in French and his ears stain pink when he realises she isn't entirely fluent. "I forget, not everyone's first language is French."
Kenna grins. "I think I caught some of that," she says softly.
"I just said that the painting was inspired by another painting by a Flemish painter as well," he replies. "Saint George and the Dragon in the 1600s made from oil too."
"You really love art," his wife muses as they move to another painting. "And this one?" She looks down at an awake Emilie who stares at the painting and Kenna smiles softly. "Emilie's curious."
Bash eyes the baby and smiles fondly. "The Young Beggar," he tells Kenna, his finger going out to be clasped by Emilie's small hand. "Or The Lice-Ridden Boy."
Kenna frowns, studying the picture. "I can't imagine being poor or homeless. We had times when money was tight and our home needed repairs because it was listed as a historical building but we were never homeless. That poor boy."
"I'd stare at this one for hours, thinking about kids these days. Ones who run away from home or have bad care homes or foster placements..." Bash trails off sadly. "What do you think of adopting again or fostering?"
Kenna turns to him, eyebrows raised. "It's an option," she breathes out. "Here we are trying for a baby when there are ready-made children in need of help."
"Don't feel guilty," Bash tells her. "I was actually thinking of running a care home. As much as I love children, I don't think it will be possible to adopt fifty kids in need of forever homes."
Kenna laughs softly. "No," she whispers. "I wouldn't mind having more than three kids if you want. Adoption or biological, whatever."
Bash gives her a warm smile. "Until then, I don't mind trying. Especially if we'll be on yachts and-"
"Sebastian!" Kenna cries out, giggling once she knows where he is going with this. "I like making love to you too."
"Just like? Because you were screaming my name about fifty times last night," her husband teases her.
"Excuse me, not in front of our daughter," Kenna lightly chastises him as she kisses Emilie's head. "I'll support you, in making the care home for kids. Find a location and I'm there."
Bash nods. "I will," he says before continuing with the painting's background. "Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, a Spanish painter circa 1645-1650. Influencé par la pauvreté des enfants espagnols au 17e siècle."
Kenna glares at him. "Uh...?"
Bash chuckles. "Come on, guess what I said," he replies. "Emilie's first language will be French."
"Uh, English because I'm not as fluent as you think I am!"
"You're pretty good," her husband says.
"I know but talking about art isn't my strongest point of French conversation," Kenna replies, chuckling. "Urgh, fine. Influencé is 'influenced'?"
"That was a given and a huge help," Bash says. "Tell me the rest."
"Par la is 'by the'. Des enfants is 'children' obviously. Espagnols is 'Spanish' and au is 'in the'," Kenna says.
Bash tuts. "And you said you weren't fluent."
Kenna rolls her eyes. "So, this was influenced by the 'something' Spanish children in the 17th century?"
"The poverty of Spanish children," Bash tells her. "Pauvreté is 'poverty'. The last king of France liked this painter's works. I like this painter, he deals with the harsh realities of life."
"We should become private art collectors then," his wife jests.
Bash ponders on something before he turns to the gallery manager. "I'd like to loan this painting."
"What, Bash?" Kenna asks, eyes wide. "C-Can you even do-"
"We can host a private event. It's Henri Jr's 22nd birthday next week on the 19th. He wants low-key, a few drinks and Father's trying to stir him into having a big event," Bash explains. "Why not use Henri as an excuse to show off this beautiful piece of art?" His eyes land back on the painting with a small, awe-struck smile.
The gallery manager raises their brows and nods. "Let's talk figures."
...
"Are you sure?"
Kenna shrugs as she retrieves the packet of pregnancy tests from the top drawer of the bathroom sink. "I'm not late per se," she admits, scanning the instructions that she knows all too well. "But we've been trying a lot."
Bash rests his chin on her shoulder and picks up the empty box when she fiddles with the tests and grabs a plastic cup from the other drawer. "Do you feel anything then? Like nausea?"
Kenna shakes her head. "Nothing at all but I just felt off," she mumbles with a soft sigh when they hear the baby monitor go off. "I'll go pee in this cup, go and get Emmy."
He leaves their bathroom as she goes to pee in the cup anxiously. When the cup is full enough, she finishes up and pulls her leggings and underwear back up before placing the cup on the sink counter and sticking the test in.
"What does it say?" Bash asks as he comes inside with Emilie in one arm.
"Just put it inside," she tells him. "Three minutes we got to wait."
Bash nods and looks down at Emilie, giving her a smile. "Do you want a sister or a brother, Emmy?"
"Maybe a boy," Kenna says, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. "So we'll have a girl and a boy and adopt a bunch of kids!"
Her husband chuckles, staring down at Emilie's blue eyes. "Mama's crazy, isn't she?"
Kenna giggles, rolling her eyes playfully before sighing wistfully. "Maybe our baby's eyes will be green like yours."
"You need to give your eyes some credit," Bash tells her. "They're gorgeous. Like chocolate and when you smile, they sparkle because you're so happy whenever you smile and your smiles are so genuine even if you're sad."
Kenna blushes. "Over the years, I tell myself not to be sad when there are people a lot worse off than me," she says. "So underneath the pain, I'm grateful."
The timer goes off and Kenna quickly checks the test, showing it to him.
"Negative," he states.
"I'm not sad," Kenna muses. "It means we've got a lot of work to do, Mister."
Her husband grins, cupping her cheek. "I'm not complaining."
She bites her bottom lip, rolling her eyes playfully as she moves to dispose of the pee in the cup and pregnancy test. "Sex-addict," she mutters lightly.
The next morning, her period starts.