Foto bij 860 - Emma

It feels surreal, almost like a dream, hearing the front door open. The sound of pattering of animal feet leads me to the hallway, my heart skipping nearly tens of beats without me even noticing, launching myself into his arms.
His scent filling my nose, his warm arms embracing me, the tingle of his warm jacket shielding him from the Scottish cold on my skin. "You're home," is all I can breathe, a faint stinging of tears in my eyes. "I wasn't even sure if you had made it on your flight."
"I wanted to surprise you," he breathes back. "Did you get my letter?"
"It came in this morning," I sigh, craning my neck up to kiss him. He tilts his head back slightly, moving his lips out of reach.
I can see his face shift from the comfortable to the stern, a twinkle in his eyes that only sparks brighter when he merely whispers, "Take that off."
My hands nearly tangle in each other in the speed I use to unbutton the cardigan, exposing a newly purchased dark purple lace bra, My pants are next to go, pooling at my ankles. Before I can even step out of them, Lucien lifts me into the air, his arms gripping onto my thighs as my head just about misses the wall.
"I promised you payback," he nearly grunts.
"And I deserve it," I breathe. "All of it."

"That's a gift from Alfie," I chuckle as Lucien's fingers glide over the wall next to the fire place, which is burning softly. The blue stripes on the white paint are hard to miss, and it makes him stop a second. "He was here with Selene the other day, and he found my markers. I haven't had the time to remove it."
Lucien laughs, a sound that fills my heart with happiness and my stomach with butterflies. "I think he has great potential to become an artist."
"That's what I told Selene," I smile, handing him a steaming mug of hot chocolate with a shot of his favourite liquor.
"I have really missed a lot when I was away," he says, sounding sentimental as he slides a finger up my bare leg, my body only covered up by one of his big sweatshirts and a pair of wool socks.
"But you're here now," I smile back, cuddling up into his arms as he's sat on the carpet by the fire. "And we'll make up for lost time."
"How do you propose we do that, miss Middleton?" he asks, kissing the top of my head gently. With Frank dead asleep on the couch and Lance on his bed next to the fire, this could almost be a scene from a Hallmark movie.
"First of all," I nuzzle my face into his bare chest, "a lot of what we just did... Though I still need to be able to walk come Christmas, so maybe not too much. And we can watch Bake Off, and see our friends, and... get a Christmas tree."
      That night, not much time is spent sleeping. After not having seen much of each other, it seems as if every minute counts. Even long after we're spent, we just lay in each other's arms, talking about our weeks apart or just staring up at the ceiling, listening to our heartbeats.
When the sun rises and reflects intensely on the snow-covered streets and roofs around us, we take a long bath, gossipping about our friends and exchanging Christmas gift ideas.
We spend an hour, with the water cooling down and the bath being filled back up with hot water, talking about our relationship and how the world is certain we have long broken up. There's quotes from articles, linking appearances and outings with friends to new relationships, and all we can do is laugh about them.
The world around us can think whatever it is they want to think, we know the real story, and for as long as we want to, this is the way it will be.
Lucien gets dressed, with a few interruptions caused by my staring, and I just take in the view.
"What's this?" he smiles, his fingers gliding over the fabric of a white garment bag in one of our closets, hidden to the left. His fingers nearly go to open it as I'm too distracted by a text coming in on my phone, but I go to stop him just in time.
"Don't," I breathe, "open that."
"Is it a surprise?" he smiles. "What could possibly be such an important, and let's not forget, big, surprise?" His eyes twinkle. "What lingerie comes in a garment bag?"
I chuckle, taking his curious hand in mine. "It's not lingerie."
"Then what is so secretive that I can't see it?" he smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. "I thought we had no secrets for one another."
"We don't," I assure him. "But this one has to be secret."
An eyebrow raises. "This is only making me more curious."
"It's my dress," I smile, a feeling of red on my cheeks. The dress, way over the price range I had in mind, caught my eye at the end of the fitting, and though it hasn't been tailored exactly to my body or my liking, I couldn't help but buy it.
"Your dress?" he seems clueless.
"The kind of dress you only wear once," I breathe, shutting the door. "It's not ready yet, and you can't see it until I walk down the aisle in it."

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