Because of Them (Because of Love #2)

Chapter Forty

AUDREY

“S o … my room,” Michael mumbles after his little speech about not sharing a bedroom. He gestures around the tiny white room and somehow everything clicks into place.

All the times he corrected me under his breath, every time I said this was his house or our house and he would murmur “yours” and I would pretend not to hear it. The flowers in the front yard, despite his claims to hate gardening and have whatever the opposite of a green thumb is. The way he added pot drawers to the kitchen after I said they would be helpful and he questioned their purpose over a standard cupboard. How he let Maisie choose the paint for her walls and took the boys’ blankets to the paint shop to match the colour for their rooms. And the stunning sunroom, the painting room. So cleverly designed, just for me.

He was never building his house. He was building my house. And he told me so, but I never really listened. I never believed it. I always brushed it off.

But here he is, shuffling his feet and worried that I’m going to make him sleep in this tiny spare room.

“Oh, you big dummy,” I say with a sigh. Stepping towards him, I grab his chin with my hand and drag his face away from the floor. His forehead wrinkles as he clears his throat. I watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows down his uncertainty.

Stretching up onto my toes, I press my mouth against his. He freezes, for only a fraction of a second, before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer.

I break the kiss, and he whimpers. “Michael, did you really think I would make you sleep in here?”

“I … I didn’t know,” he admits. “Everything between us has moved so fast, mostly because it was forced to. I didn’t want to assume it would continue that way. I didn’t want you to feel like I was forcing your hand. I realised, about halfway through building this house, that I’ve taken a lot of choice from you. The choice of who would be the father to your kids—if you ever wanted more kids and even though I didn’t mean it. And then the choice of what your house would look like, what suburb it’s in. I had to give you as much choice back. So, I am.”

He reaches up between us to drag a hand over his face as he rolls his neck. “This house is yours, but you don’t have to live here. If it’s not what you want or where you want, you can sell it, and buy or build what you choose. If you do want it, you don’t have to move in right away. You can rent it out until you’re ready. And if and when you do move in, you don’t have to let me stay. I’m willing to, I want to, for as long as you’ll let me. But the choice is yours. I love you Audrey, and it will kill me to sleep in another room and it will kill me even more if you don’t want me here. But I will respect that.”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, hanging some of my weight there and letting his arms support me. This burly young man with his heart of pure sunshine, and he’s mine. He might get some things wrong, but he gets more things right than he gives himself credit for.

“It would kill me if you weren’t here, Michael. It would kill me if you were here, but in this room. I want that wonderful master bedroom to be ours, not mine. I want this house to be ours.”

He picks me up, and with my legs wrapped around his waist I plant another kiss on his mouth, then another on his neck. He groans, squeezing at my ass. The pressure builds through me, my heart starting to race. My back hits the wall as Michael pushes me against it, grinding his hips into me.

“Say it again,” he moans, his mouth hot against my ear.

“This house is ours, Michael. It always was and it always will be.”

He drops his head over my shoulder, resting his forehead on the wall. “I was so nervous. You are everything, you are perfect. I know when we met I wasn’t even a fraction of the man you deserve. I’ve spent the past year learning and growing and just hoping to come close to that man, but always fearful you’ll wake up one day and realise I’m not him.”

His voice is a whisper in my ear, but his words echo through me until tears well in my eyes.

“Michael, the only man I want is you. Always. I love how carefree you are. I love your goofy smile and how your jokes bring light into even the darkest of rooms. I love how even when you had no idea what you were doing, you were nurturing and caring and you put everyone else first. You don’t need to become the man I deserve, because you already are him. You just need to trust in yourself.”

He carries me out of the room, giant footsteps racing down the hall. Reaching the open living space, he pauses, turning back and forth as he presumably realises there’s no furniture. Nothing other than the easel in my art room and the stool—that yes lets me cross my legs underneath the seat but is far too small for what I’m thinking. For what Michael’s thinking too, because he grunts as he carries me to the kitchen. The marble of the wide island bench is cool on my ass, but heat is pouring around us from every place my body is pressed against Michael’s.

With my weight safely out of his arms, he lets his hands roam all over my body, palming at my breasts, grabbing at my hips. He touches me like he owns me, and he does. He owns my body, my heart, my soul. All of me. It’s his.

“I love you so fucking much, Audrey.”

His mouth meets mine with a deep kiss so passionate I might cry. His tongue explores my mouth and I savour in his taste, the way he always smells like home and the way I feel so small when I’m wrapped in his arms.

“When did you say we would need to pick up the boys?” he growls. His hand dips underneath my tank and his fingers tease the waistband of my leggings.

I lean back, pushing my breasts into his face and lifting my hips off the bench. “We’ve got time.”

Three days after Michael showed me our home, we took Maisie and the boys to see their new house. That evening, we booked removalists. The two weeks that followed were a frenzy of packing and planning. Calling service providers and changing addresses with every business we could think of. Packing boxes while the kids slept.

Michael’s parents came over just about every other day to help, and my parents came up on the weekends. And today, everyone is here. Including the three men we hired. Even with the professionals here to help, Michael, our dads, and Callum all stand around trying to look helpful.

Maisie chases Baxter through the now empty house, her squeals echoing off the bare walls. Nostalgia hits me like a wave as I remember the day Callum and I moved in. I wasn’t pregnant yet, but we had always said we would start trying as soon as we had a house of our own. It wasn’t long after that I was pregnant, and then Maisie was born. And we were happy for more than a while before we slowly drifted apart. It sucked, it hurt, and I hated that life hadn’t gone to plan, but looking back I’m grateful for those moments. I know that this was the path we were always meant to take as a family. Because look at us now. Callum is happier than I’ve ever seen him, and he smiles at Cassidy with so much love I almost don’t recognise him. Maisie has grown into the sweetest big sister imaginable, with parents who love her dearly and not-quite-but-almost stepparents who love her almost as much. And I’ve never felt more whole in my life. My boys were exactly what I never knew I needed. The twins, sure, but Michael too.

He steps up behind me, wrapping my arms around me and pulling my cardigan tight around my middle. I stare into the empty rooms and lean my head against his shoulder.

“The boys are in the car,” he says.

I nod against him, a solitary tear escaping down my cheek.

Callum walks back in from outside, holding Cassidy’s hand. “This is … weird.”

Cassidy puffs out a small laugh and I snort at Callum’s choice of words.

“It’s right,” I say.

We walk out of the house one last time, and I’m not sad that my marriage with Callum ended. I’m thrilled to start the next chapter with Michael. With our boys and with Maisie. In the big, beautiful house that Michael built for us.