The afternoon sun was low when Eliza finally made it home, suitcase rolling behind her. The faint scent of hotel air and unfamiliar cities still clung to her clothes, but the moment she stepped inside, the familiar warmth of their apartment wrapped around her.
Will was on the couch, one arm draped lazily along the backrest, watching Lyra crawl across the rug with the kitten pouncing on the hem of her skirt. The sound of Lyra's laughter—light, bright, utterly content—made something in Eliza's chest loosen after two days away.
"Mommy!" Lyra squealed, abandoning the kitten to launch herself at Eliza. The hug was tight, almost fierce, and Eliza buried her nose in her daughter's hair, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo and crayons.
After dinner, bath time, and a prolonged bedtime story (because Lyra insisted she couldn't possibly sleep without one), the apartment finally grew still. The kitten was curled up in Lyra's bed, Lyra herself was in deep slumber, and Will had been eyeing Eliza all evening with that restrained, smoldering patience that promised she wouldn't be getting much rest herself.
When she closed the bedroom door, his mouth was already on hers, warm and urgent, his hands mapping the familiar terrain of her body as though confirming she was really home. The days apart made every touch sharper, every sigh deeper. Clothes found the floor in pieces until the only thing between them was the heat of their skin and the tangle of the sheets.
Afterward, they lay beneath the covers, the room heavy with the scent of sex and the quiet hum of the night beyond their window. Will's hand traced lazy shapes along her hip, his thumb brushing the soft skin just above her thigh.
"She's happy," he murmured, almost to himself.
"She is," Eliza agreed, smiling into the pillow. "School, the kitten… she's thriving."
He looked at her then, eyes dark but softened. "You ever wonder how she'll react when she finds out she's going to be a big sister someday?"
Eliza's heart skipped, the image forming instantly—Lyra's wide-eyed wonder, her eager questions, the way she'd want to help with everything. "I think she'll be over the moon," she said quietly.
Will leaned in and kissed her, slow this time, less urgency, more promise. "Then maybe we shouldn't wait too long to give her that surprise."
Her answering smile was soft, but her fingertips dug lightly into his arm. "Maybe we shouldn't."
And for the first time that day, the thought wasn't just sweet—it felt inevitable.