The Fall - Book 2

256. Keep it up, Wolfie.

DECEMBER 20, 2020 — THE BARNES HOUSE — BUCKY

I lie awake for a long while after Réa drifts off, holding her close as she sleeps.

Today is yet another line on a very long list of incredible moments. Not because of the sex—although, as always, it was amazing—but because, once again, Réa showed me how much she trusts me.

Even though she never makes me feel otherwise, and even though she finds a million little ways to show it every single day, seeing the sheer depth of her trust always floors me. It's something I know will never get old; something I will never take for granted.

My wife shifts in my arms, snuggling closer to me, and I lightly brush my lips over her hair as a soft smile forms on my face.

"I love you, Réa. So, so much. Thank you for being you," I whisper.

I gently tighten my embrace and rest my cheek against the top of her head, and finally let myself join her in slumber.

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Conall's quiet whimpering over the baby monitor wakes me. A glance at the clock on Réa's nightstand tells me it's just past five o'clock, and that I've been asleep for almost three hours.

My wife is still asleep beside me; not wanting to wake her just yet, I carefully climb out of bed, tucking the covers around her before heading into the closet to pull on a pair of sweatpants. I slip into the hall and make my way to Conall's nursery, leaning over his crib to find him wide awake with an adorably grumpy expression on his face.

"Mornin', buddy," I murmur as I lift him from his crib. "Let's get you changed, then we'll go see your mom so you can have breakfast."

I watch his expression change, his little pout fading and a tiny smile taking its place.

"I thought that might cheer you up," I softly chuckle, and Conall's grin widens.

When I step back into my bedroom, my son gumming his left hand while his right hand holds onto a fistful of my hair, I see Réa sitting up against the headboard, wearing a robin's egg blue robe and a beautiful smile.

"My two favorite guys," she says as I approach, tilting her head up for a kiss before taking our son from my arms. "Good morning, Mac Tíre Beag," she coos to Conall. "Did you sleep sweet?" He lets out a little babble and blows a very wet raspberry, earning a light laugh from my wife. "I'll take that as a yes."

She kisses his forehead, then opens one side of her robe, getting Conall situated; I join the pair, sitting beside Réa and draping my left arm over her shoulders. I watch our son nurse, his left hand resting on his mom's chest, and I brush my index finger over the back of it, feeling his soft skin. He flexes his fingers and raises his hand, and I slip my finger beneath it, smiling when he holds on.

"You've got quite a grip there, little man...I'm surprised your Grandpa Tony has any beard left after you stayed over," I chuckle.

Réa giggles, the bright, cheerful sound causing a tendril of warmth to unfurl in my chest. She leans her head on my shoulder, and we both watch Conall eat, his feet doing the 'happy flappies' while his little hand still clasps my finger.

'They're perfect,' I think, that warmth in my chest growing.

When Conall finishes nursing on that side, I take him to burp him, and when I hand him back to Réa, he refuses to eat.

"He's been eating less," I remark. "Pepper had a lot left over of what you packed, and now he's only eating half of what he usually does."

"He's okay," Réa quickly says. "I, um, I didn't eat much, either. I only do now because I love food, not because I have to. I know you remember from Wakanda that I only have to eat twice a month; I'm just saying..." she trails off, pausing briefly before continuing. "I was fully autonomous at three-and-a-half, and part of that was because I didn't require much in terms of sustenance; it was very easy to feed myself when I only had to eat small amounts twice a week."