Man of My Dreams(87)

“You’re my number one, baby. You’ll always be my number one.”

The heavenly tremors course through me as I open my eyes. It’s light out, the sun creeping brightly through the gaps in the window coverings. I stretch groggily, feeling for Declan—the man who can make me feel like this even in my dreams. But his side of the bed is empty. The girls are definitely up, the baby’s quiet. Where can they all be? Strange.

I slide my feet into my slippers and shuffle through my bedroom into the hallway. I peek into Edward’s bedroom first, but the crib’s empty. I walk a few more feet down the hall to check on Cara and Charlie. Their TV is on, but their room, and its strewn-all-over-the-place contents, is vacant. I head for the stairs, suspicious of the silence. The kitchen is usually boisterous with my family’s morning rituals, but today there’s not a trace of them. No empty cereal bowls or dirty napkins. Not even an unfinished baby bottle or bib. Where the hell is everyone?

I make my way to the phone to call Declan. Maybe he took them out for breakfast and decided to let me sleep in. I’ve been working my butt off trying to finish this book and getting little sleep with Edward’s teething. That’s got to be what it is. A break. I have the best damn husband in the world. But before I have the chance to press send on the call, I hear subdued noises coming from downstairs.

I open the door to the staircase of the newly finished basement and almost collide with Cara, who is cradling Edward in her arms. “Morning, Mom.”

“Morning, baby. What’s going on?”

“Edward pooped. I’m running up to change him.”

I open my arms to take my son from his sister, but Cara rejects the offer. “No, I got him. Charlie’s right behind me. She was helping Dad with something.”

I smile, tapping her atop her long blond waves. When the hell did she grow up?

Charlie comes pummeling up the steps, nearly knocking me down. “Oh. Hey, Mommy. Did you see Cara? She’s got EC. He pooped.”

I shake my head, trying hard not to smirk. “Baby, you’ve got to stop calling him that. That’s not why I named him that.”

“Yeah, sure. You love a vampire more than you love our dad. It’s okay, we get it, but I’m team Jacob all the way!” Charlie dismisses me as she breezes past me in the stairway.

I shout out over my shoulder, “I named him after Papa’s dad, Charlie. Not a Twilight character!” This is starting to get old. I might have to give him a nickname or something.

Walking down the steps, I admit to myself that Twilight definitely did have a little something to do with his name, considering the books are what got me all hot and bothered and caused the conception of the vampire’s namesake in the first place. They caused the conception of a lot of things, including my new hobby.

I turn the corner, past my pretty, Pottery Barn-inspired workspace to find Declan in his favorite spot. He’s seated at the desk in his studio, scribbling away. The studio was a gift for our fifth anniversary, the first one after our separation. Declan needed a place to be creative, to live out his real dreams and to write all those beautiful words that make me swoon. Most nights I can’t get him out of here. I think he loves the writing more than he loves me. But I understand that now too.

“What are you working on, babe?” I creep up behind Declan, startling him.

“Oh shit, Mia. You scared the crap out of me.” He hovers over his notebook, hiding whatever he’s up to.

I roll his chair out from underneath the desk, straddling his lap. “Is it for me?”

“Maybe,” he says against my neck.

“I can’t wait to hear it. If it’s anything like the last one we may be welcoming a fourth baby soon.”

Declan’s lips stiffen and his hands pull my head back, tugging on my hair. “Way to kill the mood. No more baby talk. Three is enough to handle right now. Four would put me over the edge.”

“Oh! Now that you’re home all the time you see it’s not that easy, huh?”

“I don’t know how you did it when the girls were small. Fucking supermom. A hot, sexy supermom.”

I giggle as Declan nibbles my ear, the warmth of his breath creating a warmth down below. I turn my head so I can kiss him, fixing my hungry mouth against his. It never gets old, the reaction of us connecting this way. The sexy hitch of his breath, the low growl in his throat. My heart starts to quicken as his fingers make their sly descent into my panties.

“Dec, we can’t.” I squirm on top of him, hating my own words. I wish we could wherever, whenever, however.

“I thought that’s why you had this room built for me. Soundproof walls. I’ll close the blinds. The kids are busy upstairs—we can squeeze in a quickie.”