Chapter 2

Elia Carter

I watched my husband stop mid-lunge like someone hit him with a freeze ray.

One second he was charging in like a soldier on a mission — lips parted, eyes burning with need — and the next, he was stiff as a board, hovering inches away from my face.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Poor Ashie.

He had that familiar look in his eyes — the one that said “I have been deprived of you for twenty-one days and I intend to make up for it in twenty-one seconds.”

And here we were.

With both our sets of parents in the house.

And two kids.

And paper-thin walls.

Yeah.

No way in hell.

He pressed a kiss to my temple instead, with the enthusiasm of a man forced to drink water when he was promised wine.

“Hi, Mom!” he called awkwardly over my shoulder, his voice cracking like a teenager’s.

I stepped aside to let him in, stifling another laugh.

He walked into the living room — and immediately froze.

His eyes darted from my mom chatting with his dad, to my dad loudly discussing politics with his mom, and then back to me. His jaw dropped slightly, like he couldn’t quite believe his homecoming had turned into a family conference.

“A-Ah... y’all are here...?” he asked, forcing a smile that was one twitch away from a grimace. “Any occasion...?”

I gave him an innocent smile. “They’re here for Mila’s birthday.”

Ash blinked. “Oh—uh… when’s that?”

Cue the dramatic entrance.

“HUH?!”

Mila came marching down the hallway in her sparkly pink tutu, looking personally offended. She pointed an accusatory finger at her father like a prosecutor in court.

“What kind of dad are you?! You forgot my birthday!”

Ash looked like he’d been slapped with a glittery glove. “N-no, no! Of course not, sweetie. Daddy’s just... been very busy, you know, with work and stuff...?”

Mila crossed her arms. “Daddy’s stupid.”

My father snorted into his teacup.

Ash clutched his heart dramatically. “Ouch. Brutal.”

Luca toddled in next, holding a stuffed dragon upside-down, and screamed for no reason. Ash gave me a look. I shrugged.

Welcome home, darling.

“Anyway,” Mila huffed dramatically, arms crossed and one brow arched, “at least tell me you brought me a gift.”

I bit back a smile. Where on earth did she get that attitude from?

Certainly not me. And Ash—well, Ash only pretended to be dramatic.

Ash bowed with exaggerated flair. “Yes, Your Ladyship. I wouldn’t dare return empty-handed.”

He reached into his bag like a magician unveiling a grand trick. “Behold.”

Mila squealed as he pulled out a sparkly tiara, a set of glitter markers, and a stuffed unicorn the size of her torso. All was forgiven. Our little queen beamed.

Ash went around next, handing a dinosaur puzzle to Luca (who tried to eat it), a set of imported tea for my mom, some foreign liquor for his dad, and even spicy snacks for mine.

And then, he turned to me.

“For my queen,” he said softly, handing me a small, carefully wrapped box.

I unwrapped it and gasped.

Inside was a delicate glass snow globe — and within it, two tiny figurines that looked just like us. Me in my favorite summer dress, Ash in his hoodie and jeans, standing under a glass-blown tree that shimmered with flecks of gold. A swirl of silver snow danced around us when I shook it gently.

“It’s... beautiful,” I whispered, fingers tracing the base. “It’s magical.”

He smiled, boyish and proud. But as much as I loved it — and I truly did — nothing could compare to the real gift: his safe return.

Every time he left, a part of me held my breath. And every time he came back, I could finally breathe again.

My prayers had been answered once more. May they be answered again, and again, and again.

Later that evening, I placed the snow globe on our bedroom shelf. It stood there glowing in the soft amber light — our tiny perfect world in a ball of glass.

I was lost in thought, gazing at it, when I felt a familiar warmth behind me.

Two arms snaked around my waist. I didn’t need to turn — I knew that embrace anywhere. His breath brushed against my skin as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. A shiver crawled up my spine.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment so bad...” he whispered, his voice rough and low against my ear.

I let out a soft chuckle, leaning back into him. “I could feel it. From the moment you walked in the door.”

“Then why are you still resisting me?” he murmured, his lips barely grazing my skin.

“Because,” I said teasingly, “Half our family is in the house.”

“So?” he said without missing a beat. “The walls upstairs are thicker.”

“Thick enough to muffle you?” I teased, elbowing him lightly.

He groaned dramatically, tightening his hold. “Cruel. So cruel. You really want me to suffer like this?”

I turned in his arms, resting my hands on his chest. “Welcome home, Ash.”

His eyes softened. “It’s good to be home.”

His arms found their way around my waist again, pulling me flush against him. I felt the slow, warm burn in my cheeks as his breath fanned against my neck.

"You have no idea," he whispered, voice husky, "how badly I wanted to hold you. To bury my face in your skin and just... bathe in your scent."

My breath hitched. His words always had this way of crawling under my skin and lighting a fire.

“And you,” I murmured, resting my head against his chest, “have no idea how relieved I am to see you come home safe. Every time you walk through that door… it feels like a prayer answered.”

His chin rested on the top of my head, and I felt the rise and fall of his breathing — steady, comforting.

“Hm… well,” he said, voice rumbling through his chest, “I think your prayers are my bulletproof armor. But even if something did happen… I’d haunt you. You’re stuck with me, Ellie. I’d rather be a ghost wrapped around your soul than go to heaven without you. You’re tied to me for eternity, Mrs. Carter.”

I let out a soft laugh and tilted my head back to look at him.

“Is that so?” I teased, eyes glinting. “Well, that’s oddly romantic, Mr. Carter.”

I leaned in, slowly, deliberately, just close enough that he could feel my breath on his lips. I watched as his eyes flickered to my mouth.

And then — there it was. That pink flush rising in his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” I laughed, pulling back a little, “are you blushing?”

He groaned and dropped his forehead onto my shoulder dramatically.

“Don’t you start!” he mumbled against my skin. “You’re a damn tease, woman! You’re playing with my desperation!”

I laughed harder, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Desperation suits you.”

“You’re cruel,” he muttered.

“I’m playful,” I corrected with a smirk. “There’s a difference.”

Just then, his grip on my waist tightened, pulling me flush against him — hard chest, strong arms, and all that bottled-up desperation crashing into me like a wave. My breath caught.

“I’m one second away from locking that bedroom door,” he growled low into my ear, his lips brushing my skin. And then — he kissed the side of my neck.

I felt my knees wobble slightly.

“Y-you know, right—your parents are downstai—”

Another kiss. Lower. Just below my ear. My voice cracked. My thoughts scattered.

He wasn’t playing fair.

“Ellie…” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat, “I haven’t touched you in three weeks. Three. That’s a violation of human rights.”

I clutched the front of his hoodie to stay upright. “Oh yeah? Want me to file a complaint for you?”

“I’ll file it against you, actually,” he whispered with another kiss. “Cruel and unusual punishment. And I still think the walls are thick enough—”

That’s when it happened.

A shriek pierced the air like a fire alarm.

“MOM!! Luca put glitter glue in my hair AGAIN!!”

We both froze.

Silence.