Chapter 9 - The House by the Sea
Six months later.
The sound of crashing waves against black granite rocks hummed through the open windows of the master bedroom. The air smelled of salt, pine, and wet earth—a clean, violent freshness that cleared every trace of Chicago smog from my lungs.
I stood on the wide timber porch of the Maine estate, holding a cup of steaming black coffee.
The sun was just rising over the Atlantic Ocean, casting a brilliant trail of gold across the deep blue water.
Behind me, soft footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor.
Elena walked out onto the porch, wearing an oversized beige cardigan over a soft white dress, her hair tumbling loose down her back. Her skin was glowing, healthy, and flush with life. Her heart had completely recovered—the latest echo showing no signs of the cardiomyopathy that had nearly stolen her life six months ago.
She wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, resting her cheek against my shoulder.
"He's asleep," she murmured happily. "Seven hours straight. I think he's finally getting used to the sea air."
I set my coffee cup down on the railing, turning around inside her arms, pulling her warm, soft body tight against mine, breathing in the scent of her lavender shampoo.
"Seven hours?" I smirked, kissing her forehead. "That means we have two hours to ourselves before the lion wakes up."
Elena looked up at me, her hazel eyes dancing with a light I hadn't seen since the very early days of our marriage—a light that was brighter, deeper, and completely untroubled by fear.
"And what do you intend to do with two hours, Mr. Vance?" she teased, her hands sliding up my chest to wrap around my neck.
"I intend to remind my wife why she married me in the first place," I murmured, leaning down, pressing my lips against hers in a slow, deep, possessive kiss that tasted of ocean air and forgiveness.
She didn't pull away. She melted into my arms, her fingers tightening in my hair, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, she rested her forehead against mine, smiling.
"You know," she whispered softly, "the town clerk called yesterday. Our marriage license renewal paperwork is ready to be signed."
"No paperwork," I said firmly, running my thumbs over her soft cheekbones. "No lawyers, no corporate press releases, no high-society galas. Just you, me, Leo, and a justice of the peace on the beach at sunset."
"No prenuptial agreement?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.
May you like
I looked at her, my heart overflowing with a love so absolute, so vast, that it dwarfed every dollar I had ever earned.
"Everything I have is already yours, Elena," I said softly. "It always was."
