FLYING | Sequel of FALLEN (NaNoWriMo 2022 WINNER)

52.

Needless to say, we didn't enjoy the sights of New York after we wed. We headed directly to our hotel room, losing Edith on our way. Not a moment did Marcel let me touch the ground once we had gotten to our room. He carried me from the threshold to the bed, and from the bed to the bath.

I sit in the bath alone, my hair wrapped up in a messy bun, waiting for him to come back to the room. I hear him before I can see him.

"Does Grace Wright want some champagne?" He whistles with happiness as he makes his way to me.

"I want anything you want to give me."

"Those are dangerous words, you just said. I could want to give you anything."

"And by anything, I hope you mean your cock."

"My wife is saying naughty naughty things."

"Because you make me crave naughty naughty things, husband."

"Let's start with champagne."

"And getting you out of these clothes."

"Actually, I don't want to bathe. I would rather watch you." He smiles tenderly, offering me the glass of champagne. He sits on the tiled floor and leans his back against the wall. He turns his head and looks at me lovingly. I slide myself closer to him, to the edge of the bath. I rest an arm on the side, and return his gaze.

"And I want to look at you. You look gorgeous. This tux suits you very well."

"Thank you, my love." He simply answers, looking at me with a new adoration.

"You said some beautiful things at the altar."

"And I meant every word."

"Did you write them on the plane? I didn't see you work on them."

"I didn't. I spoke from the heart. I told you what I felt at that moment. And it all stands true. I still can't quite believe it..." He smiles softly and takes my left hand that hangs from the side of the bath.

He looks at the rings on my fourth finger and pulls my hand to his lips, closing his eyes. He pecks my rings tenderly. It makes me smile gently. I turn my hand slightly to cup his cheek. He leans into my touch. I graze my fingers on his cheek and then trail my fingers to his lips. I take my time, admiring him with utmost happiness.

"Words cannot express how much I love you, right now, this very minute." I murmur softly, my heart is so full of love it might burst.

He opens his eyes slowly, as if waking up, and lets his gaze fall on me. My fingers trail upwards to run my fingers through his messy hair. His glorious I-just-fucked my-newlywed-wife-for-hours hair. I comb them away from his forehead, like he used to wear them when we first met.

"You said something earlier..." He lets out pensively, looking down. I look at him patiently and stroke his cheek one last time. I drink the last sip of my champagne and put the glass down beside him. I cross both of my arms on the edge of the bath and rest my head as I look at him. "We were at the Office of the City Clerk, and you pulled Mum's hand. And you said–"

"The Three Musketeers."

"Yeah... Why did you say that?"

I frown in response, pensive. He looks up, settling his eyes into mine. I replay the scene in my head, searching for his answer.

"I don't know. It felt like the perfect thing to say at that moment. Now that I share your name, it makes me legitimately part of your family. And I want to help you and your mum get back to the close relationship you had. I want to make memories with you. I want to be a family. Because she needs us. Now more than ever."