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“And the way he kisses us like he needs us to breathe. There’s nothing like it, is there?”

“Not that we’ve found. Liam is special.”

“Will we ask him to stay? You asked me at the start of dinner if we were on the same page and I said we were. Does that mean we’ll fight for him this time?”

“I think we should. We should tell him how we feel. Then it’s up to him.”

Des exhales slowly. “We have to try, right? That’s how we keep this. We lost him once because we didn’t fight.”

My eyes flicker past my husband. “He’s coming.”

Des sits up straighter in his seat, twisting slightly to watch Liam finish his approach. He does look good; stronger and older than when we last saw him, even though it’s only been three years. His light brown hair frames his face perfectly, highlighting his magnificent features. Des is right. We have to fight for him this time.

“I thought I’d deliver dessert myself.” Liam sets down two plates. “If I remember correctly, Boston cream pie is your favorite, Des?”

He nods, smiling warmly. “Yeah.”

“I whipped this up. It’s a vanilla sponge with pastry cream and a touch of chocolate mousse. It’s not traditional, but I hope you like it. Happy birthday, Des.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He hands me a card with his contact details on it. “In case anything changes before I come over.”

“It won’t, Liam. We’re excited to see you later.”

Liam squeezes my hand. “I’m excited too. I never thought—” He stops himself, forcing a smile. “I’ll see you both later, huh? I’ll text when I’m on my way. Same house, I assume.”

“Same house,” I say, squeezing his hand in return. “Thank you for an amazing meal. It’s everything I wanted for Des.”

Liam searches my eyes before gently releasing my hand. “You know how much I love to cook for you both. It made my night too.”

With one final look, Liam turns and heads back to the kitchen.

I had hoped finding him would work out for us, and I think my hunch was right. By morning, if all goes well, Liam will be ours once more.

ChapterFour

Des

It’s nearly midnight when the text comes through on Marco’s phone. He looks up from his position on the sofa.

“He’s almost here.”

I nod, wringing my hands and blowing out a breath. “This is really happening.”

Marco nods. “It is. Why don’t you sit, lover? I’ll answer the door.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I force myself into the armchair. It’s the one Liam used to sit in to warm his feet by the fireplace. I can’t remember how many times I knelt between his legs while he sat in this exact spot, sucking him off like I needed his cum to live. My cock twitches at the memory.

Just a few minutes later, there’s a tentative knock at the door and Marco is on his feet. I straighten my shoulders and try to appear relaxed, but nothing could be further from my reality. Liam is here.

I hear their voices getting closer, and then he’s there, smiling as he enters the living room of our old craftsman bungalow. I swear his eyes heat as soon as he sees me in his favorite spot. It’s too warm outside for a fire, but I kind of wish we had one anyway.

His hair is damp as if he’s just showered, and instead of his chef’s coat, he’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt that clings to his chest like a second skin. I focus for just a second on his pebbled nipples pressing against the material—a dead giveaway that he’s excited. His body was always so responsive.

“Hi, Des.”

“Hi.” I stand and walk over to him, pausing for a second before indulging myself and wrapping my arms around him.