Page 154 of The Marriage Clause

Behind her is Zayne, because in this family, boundaries exist mostly so someone can vault over them. If I didn't know better, I’d say that twenty plus years of Conrad Kauffman keeping us apart has caused some level of separation anxiety where no one can seem to go a day or two without bombarding into each other's lives.

I should be grateful for this though, because without the last five years of learning how to deal with real relationships like these, I’d be too far off to have ever resembled a man Aria could stand to spend a single night with, let alone a life.

Christian comes after them, at least looking faintly apologetic about being part of this ambush.

"I told them not to make a scene," I say flatly.

Aria glances at me. "You knew they’d be here?"

"I know my family. They can’t help themselves."

By the time I get out and come around to her side, Zayne is already halfway down the front steps.

"There they are," he announces to no one who needs the update. "The newlyweds return from Europe. Did you bring scandal? Illicit vineyard photos? A tiny French baby?"

Aria nearly chokes on air.

Christian elbows him hard enough to be satisfying.

Everly, to her credit, ignores all of them and goes straight for Aria, stopping just short of physically grabbing her.

"How was it? You look like you have that honeymoon glow, and a gorgeous French Riviera tan to match."

"I got a little bit of a tan," Aria says. Then she glances back at me. "Not as much as Everett, though."

"Oh right, the sunburn," Everly winces a little. "The photos looked rough."

"Got a little distracted, did you there brother?" Zayne says, slapping my shoulder.

I glance over at Aria. The distraction in question, who was wearing a bikini that day by the pool at the paparazzi, trying to keep my distance before I screwed everything up and slept with her again like we had the night before. That feels like a whole different time and space than it is now. "Yeah, something like that," I say and Aria gives me a knowing smile.

Then Everly’s gaze flicks to the luggage, the portfolio case, the garment bags, and something more perceptive moves through her face.

Everly sees it, because she sees everything. The difference in me that I can’t quite name but can feel.

"You’re staying here?" she asks.

Aria glances at me before answering. "Yes."

Everly’s eyes widen with excitement. "Perfect. Matteo already doubled his grocery order when I told him you were coming back today."

"I didn’t agree to that," I say.

"You were in France. Your authority had a customs delay. And you’re welcome, because now there’ll be actual food in the house and your wife might stay. I cannot go back to being the only woman in this sausage fest family. I refuse."

Zayne reaches for one of the bags. "What the hell did you bring back in this thing?"

"That," Aria says, "is art supplies and if you drop it, I’ll help Everly hide your body."

Zayne blinks. Then grins. "She really is one of us."

"I hope so," I say.

Christian takes the second case more carefully and glances at Aria. "Welcome home."

The words are simple, but they land in a way that feels real for the first time in my life, and I don’t miss the way she stills for half a second before she answers.

"Thanks."