I REACH ACROSS THE TABLE for her hand and look into Olivia's eyes. A gentle smile plays across her lips.

Knowing I'm the reason behind that smile is one of the best feelings and I'm not afraid anymore to tell her that. That I need her. That I need her to be part of my life, that I want to give every piece of myself to her.

Caught up in the moment, I get up from the counter stool and leave a long kiss on her forehead.

Olivia leans into me to nuzzle her face against my chest. Her smiling eyes seek mine, to soothe me the way only she can, to tell me without words that sure, life sucks sometimes, but she's here, with me, to be my anchor, to reassure me everything will be all right. And it fills me in the most profound way, this feeling, the feeling that I love her, that I love her with all that I am.

Before I start collecting our plates, I throw a quick glance at my mobile to check the time.

It's late. Almost eleven.

We've finished dinner a little while ago, but we lost track of time while catching up, cosy and relaxed, chatting away about life, these past weeks, about our future.

"...I was betting he'd run screaming out of the door, but no, the poor guy just fainted in the middle of the room, imagine that! His wife was so angry she could have jumped off the delivery table and strangled him right there!" Olivia tells me about the highlight of her day and lets out a loud laugh. "I'm fully convinced if men had to give birth themselves, civilisation would have already been extinguished. You can be such wusses!"

I shake my head, amused, but keep my thoughts to myself.

The idea of seeing your child getting out through a spot where you have already had so much fun – basically through the main attraction of the whole playground – is a bit disturbing. And when one day I'm in that position, I do plan to hold Olivia's hand, talk gently to her, take all those slow, deep breaths – but, for the sake of my own mental health, I'll be watching it from the headboard side.

From the other angle, with a full view of the event? No, thank you.

"Dessert?"

She crinkles her nose.

"You sure?"

Nodding, she smiles, loose and entertained, one finger absently circling the rim of her glass, one leg stretched over another stool, her body swaying to the music floating from the sound system. "Thank you for the late dinner, it was great."

Everything is quiet and perfect, just perfect.

She glances at me, with bright eyes, her lips slightly curled to a naughty smile. "Hey, you know what? You're a pretty damn good cook with a dangerously charming smile... That will get you a lot of extra cookies."

The sly, playful innuendo almost stops me in my tracks. I'm taking a little surprise I prepared for her out of the freezer.

"Hey, sexy. What do you think of this?" A bowl with two scoops of vanilla ice-cream with cherries and walnuts. Her favourite.

Her eyes light up. "Where's the spoon?"

Waggling one, I lean over to tease her a little by just barely touching my lips against hers. "So you do want dessert after all?" I watch the mischief flicker in her eyes, which are fixed on mine.

I scoop up a spoonful of ice-cream and hold it to her mouth. She tastes it slowly, rolling the cream on her tongue, and I kiss her lips, which feel cold and taste sweet.

I'm almost sure I've just heard a tiny, little moan.

The fire that's been brewing inside of me since this afternoon flares to life. I want her so badly that if she kisses me back, I'll be damned if I don't take that as an invitation and in less than one minute, I won't just be kissing her lips, I'll be kissing every inch of her body. On this very counter.

No?

"Thank you, that was so sweet of you. Now give me that spoon! Four minutes of pleasure in the mouth, four years on the hips, but who cares?" Quite enthusiastically she takes another spoonful to her mouth.

I guess no...

"Why do you always do that?" I dip my spoon into my own bowl.

"Excuse me?"

"Always refusing dessert, but then end up stealing it from us, little by little! Today I'd be lucky to get half of mine!"

She narrows her eyes at me, in a feigned menacing stare. "Okay, so if we really want this relationship to go somewhere, we might as well get all these things straight now. Tell me, what else annoys the hell out of you?"

I enter her game and pull up a stool next to her. After taking a few seconds to gear up, I point my spoon at her.

"For starters, why do you always spend so much time getting ready? Men need to have the patience of the saints sometimes."

"It's a lot of work to look good – for you, sweetheart!" She winks. "Hair, make-up and other secrets you don't want to hear about – like waxing down there – do require some time. So get over that one, darling. Next!" she prompts, amused.

"When you ask us if you look fat in an outfit, what am I supposed to say? My sister, for example, drives me crazy. Always asking me that."

"Most times we're just looking for a compliment. Say something nice."

"I should lie, you mean?"

"Say something like 'that dress is lovely, but, I don't know, you don't look very comfortable in it'. That sounds much better! And it will likely be true, anyway. What else?"

"Why do you keep on asking what we're thinking? Men like it quiet, we can actually be still and think about absolutely nothing!"

"Well, but we can't. We have this board in our heads where we keep pinning mental post-it notes with different reminders, ideas and things we need to do later. Besides, remember we aren't mind readers; if we ask you that, it's because we care, we want to know about your feelings, we're encouraging you to talk."

I nod, pretending to be serious. "And I feel sometimes you put too much pressure on us. You set your expectations sky-high, almost as if you wanted us to change into one of those characters you watch in your sappy films. That's tough."

Smothering a laugh, she lifts one eyebrow defiantly. "Hey, what's wrong with sappy films?"

I pull her so she's standing right between my legs and hold her by the waist. "Nothing. I really love them, especially all those happy endings."

I do. We have pretty much missed all endings of the films we've been trying to watch. We start out cuddling and way before they run the final credits, things have already escalated, and we're lost in each other's very, very happy endings.

The silly banter continues.

"But do tell me, what's the big deal about all those chick flicks?"

She shrugs, looking at me with a devilish grin spread across her face. After that, she bites her lip and leans towards me to say, "They're a lot of fun. Because if we were in a novel or in one of those films, you'd already be doing me on this counter, and we'd be contorting our bodies to positions that aren't even possible. What's not to like in that picture?"

My heart lurches the instant I pick up on the subtext. Not wanting to wait for another second, I pull her to me and cover her mouth with mine.

But she pushes me back gently, teasing me with a mirthful smile. "Besides, we love those films because we're all secretly in love with at least one of the Hemsworth brothers. Sorry, babe, but there's nothing we can do about it, except surrender ourselves to those charming smiles and out-of-this-world abs." She breathes out a small giggle. "And the sooner you learn to accept that, the better. I'm sure you'll agonise a lot less."

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

She chuckles.

Feigning a serious tone, "I wasn't laughing, and I have no idea who those guys are either. That's not the sort of competition we men particularly appreciate."

The blood begins to pound wildly in my veins when I fix my eyes on her mouth again, and hold her a little tighter, pressing her against my hard body. I take in her breath as I let my tongue trace her bottom lip, and her scent as I travel down her neck and her collarbone. They're already embedded in my brain and I want them there for the rest of my life.

I feel her body arching towards mine and then, without warning, she grips my hair and crushes her lips to mine with intense urgency. It's hot as hell and I kiss her back, hard, my tongue entering her mouth to entwine with hers, to claim her as mine.

Her fingers move to my shirt, tug at the bottom of it and in a swift movement she yanks it up. She splays her hands across my chest, caresses it, and rests her lips on it.

My heart kicks hard, and my pulse thrums frantically in my ears as my body gives in to each stroke of her tongue. It's maddening.

I take her mouth again in a hungry kiss, waves of lust stirring inside me into a wild fever as she moans softly into my mouth, our breaths so desperate that the world could cease to be, it wouldn't matter. This fierce craving has already overtaken us completely.

I get up and envelope her in my arms. My fingers waltz up and down her back, then slide down her body to tug at the hem of her dress and find their way underneath to caress her thighs.

"You don't look very comfortable in this dress..." I whisper, my voice thick.

But her eyes leap open. "I look fat in it?"

"I just want to see you. Naked. Fully naked."

"Ah! Speaking of which, where's my backpack?" Her eyes dart around the room. "I got you something at the airport."

I tighten my grip, not letting her go. "Look at me. Do I look like I want to receive a present right now?"

She undrapes her arms from around my neck and gives me a naughty wink. "Oh, this one, you do!"

"Unless it's something I'll want to tear off with my teeth, no, I don't!"

Her smile is full of malice. "Hey, all good things come to those who wait!"

*

"Oh, shit! We left it in the car. Behind the driver's seat. I have to go there now," she concludes after a couple of minutes of furious searching.

"You can't be serious."

"Brian, my computer is in there, with my whole life, with important stuff from work! That's easy bait for burglars. Do you want someone to smash a window and rob your car?"

I hold back a frustrated sigh. She's right.

"I thought so."

"Okay, I'll go get it," I tell her.

She gets to the car key on the console table first. "You're half-naked, I'll go! It only takes a minute. You can watch me through the balcony window."

One minute later she's giving me the okay sign, closing back the car door.

All good.

While she's on her way up, I go to the bathroom to quickly wash my face and brush my teeth. And spray on a bit of her favourite cologne. That should give her enough time to get whatever she's got there for me out of the bag and prepare her little surprise.

I'm kind of excited now.

What could it possibly be?

*

"Love? Where are you?"

It's been what? More than ten minutes, surely?

As no answer comes from the living-room, I leave our bed and check what's taking her so long. Maybe it's that long prep thing that requires time and I must get used to. Jesus, the anticipation is killing me.

"Sweetheart?" I keep calling as I pace the hallway.

She doesn't respond, but I can hear her movements.

When I finally find her, I can barely believe my eyes. The image I see knocks me off balance, it's like a jolt throwing me back to a dark place I didn't see myself entering again.

Looking vacantly through the window and with tears streaming down her face, her fingers tremble as she fidgets with the scarf wrapped around her neck.

Still unable to react, I watch her in silence for a few beats and then let my eyes shift to the side. Her backpack is already draped on the trolley suitcase handle next to the doorway. I'm utterly confused.

This can't be happening. She's leaving?

"Olivia, what is this?"

***

Thanks for reading!

See you next week for another update. 

xo, Ana