Page 33 of Eager Housewife
“Oh god.” Ainsley cringes.
“And your half-siblings,” he adds.
“You’re really serious about this?” Ainsley turns to me, doubt in expression. “You lied to me.”
“I’m sorry about the lying.” I squeeze my best friend’s hand. “It was stupid. But I love Duncan, and I was scared you’d react badly.”
Her eyes widen for a split second at me calling her dad by his first name. “Well… I guess I know now and…” She shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t get it, but if this is what you want…”
“We’re very serious about the siblings,” Duncan adds, deadpan.
“Oh no. Make it stop.” But Ainsley is laughing, and the tension in my chest eases. “I don’t need to hear any of the details. If you’re happy?—”
“We are.” And it’s easy to talk for both of us, because it’s true. I’m utterly secure in my husband’s affection now.
Duncan catches my eye above Ainsley’s head, and his expression has softened with the emotions he’s kept hidden, but have bled out around the edges over the last month. Now he’s told me, I can see all the ways he showed his feelings. With orgasms, yes, but in other ways too.
I can’t wait to go back to Lochside with all three of us together. And in nine months’ time, with our baby too.
“I love you,” he mouths.
“Just because I’m not mad with you anymore, doesn’t mean you can start smooching in front of me.” Ainsley glances between us. “Cut that out, you two.”
Duncan grins. “Not a chance.”
EPILOGUE
DUNCAN
9 years later
I’m in my home office on the phone to my chief financial officer when there’s a roar of young voices and three children fall into my office, scrapping like street urchins and yelling, “Death to the dragon”.
Or something? I think.
“I’ll call you back.”
I sigh as I put the phone down and regard my offspring brawling on the floor. These three are our eldest. Skye is eight, Rory seven, Lainey is six. Our youngest is just two, and I have a pang of longing for my sticky little toddler and her precious milky scent.
“Dad, they aren’t playing fair!” Skye complains, looking up from the pile of red and auburn-haired children.
“What’s the problem?” I ask.
They all start babbling at once.
“I’m the princess,” declares Rory.
“No, I’m the princess!” says Lainey. “You’re the dragon!”
“I thought we were all dragons this time?” Skye looks very put out.
Mafia disputes have nothing on siblings.
“You all seem to have swords. Are you all knights?” I suggest, nodding to the rulers they’re brandishing.
Skye gives me a withering look. “Dragons can have swords, Daddy.”
“Dragons have opposable thumbs in this game?” They all blink at me, bemused and affronted by my attempt to impose logic on their fantasy game.