After I dart to Le Marais for a quick meeting, I’m finished for the day, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about sweets.

It’s not that I have a sweet tooth. But I do have a wife who loves to shower me with gifts, and thus I like to shower her with them too.

I head to our neighborhood then stroll through the winding streets of Montmartre as the sun dips low in the sky. I duck into Veronica’s candy shop, ready to nab a small bag of something sweet and tarty for my little mermaid, but I jerk my head back, startled to see someone I know.

Someone I know quite well.

My brother.

He’s tapping his fingers along the counter as he chats animatedly with Veronica, smiling as he tells her some sort of story about a funny incident down by the Seine involving a cyclist, a police officer, and a loaf of bread.

She laughs from her post at the counter, her eyes twinkling then widening when she spots me.

She covers her mouth and gives Erik a pointed look.

He turns to me, startled. “Oh, hiii.”

“Well, hello,” I say, with a wide grin. “Fancy meeting you here.” I’m curious if the glances exchanged between them at my wedding last month might have turned into a little something more. “Anything interesting happening here?”

Veronica smiles coyly. Erik shrugs sheepishly.

“So that’s a yes.” I turn to Veronica. “What do you want me to say when my wife asks how long this has been going on?”

Veronica pipes in. “We’ve just been talking. We’ve been having a lovely chat.”

Erik smiles. “I also asked her out to dinner and she said yes.”

“And I’m going to text Elise any second,” Veronica adds hastily.

“Good, because I’d be in a world of trouble if I knew and said nothing.”

“I promise I’ll save you from her inquisition, and even smooth the path with some candy,” Veronica offers with a smile.

“That’s exactly why I’m here. Can you put together a little bag for her?”

“Of course.” Moving her tongs across pink, lavender, and periwinkle candies, she assembles a quick gift bag for the woman I love.

I say good-bye, leaving the two of them behind to continue their flirting, presumably. As I head home, I fervently hope Veronica’s text arrives soon.

Later that night, I hear the squeal from Elise that tells me I don’t need to keep this little nugget to myself anymore.

She rushes into the living room, arms flapping, smiling as wide as the sky. “Your brother asked Veronica out, she said yes, and now we can all get together.”

“Maybe we ought to let them go out on their own before we do a double date?”

She scoffs. “Please. Ever since our wedding I knew this would happen, and now I want a double date.”

“I know you do, little mermaid, but don’t you think we should see if this sticks first?”

“It will. They’re perfect for each other. Plus she’s not a stroppy cow.”

“She’s not a stroppy cow in the least.”

One month later, we embark on the double date, since Veronica and Erik have been seeing each other for the last few weeks and it seems to be going well. So well in fact, we make our way to a nightclub in Oberkampf, the four of us laughing and chatting as we walk through the Parisian night.

Once inside the club though, I lose track of Veronica and Erik because the woman in front of me commands all my attention. My wife captivates me as much as she did when she was my part-time lover. We dance closer, and I slide my body against hers, feeling the heat from her skin. She leans her head back, exposing the gorgeous column of her throat, and I press my mouth to her soft skin then travel up to her ear, nipping the lobe.

A low moan tells me she’s already starting to let go, to surrender to how we are. This is how I want her. This is how I need her. And later, back at our home, that’s exactly how I have her.

When we’re finished and sated, I lazily run my fingers down her belly, then I stop. An image of her stomach growing bigger and rounder pops into my head.

Not sure where it came from.

Well, I am sure. We just fucked wildly.

But it’s not as if I spotted a toddler on the street as I walked home. It’s not as if I’ve been thinking about babies. Then again, maybe the idea has been lingering since my DJ client.

Either way, as I run my hand over her soft flesh I can’t get the idea out of my head. Nor do I want to. It’s not just that she’d look magnificent pregnant. It’s that I want to have a family with her. I want us to be more than two. “What would you say to stopping birth control?” I ask.

She props herself up on her elbows, fixing me with a serious gaze. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I grin. “Yes, I’m saying I’d really like to knock you up and raise babies with you.”

Her lips quiver and her smile stretches. “I’d say let’s get working on this project straightaway.”

Two months later, over a breakfast of eggs and toast, she hands me a stick with two pink lines. I’m overjoyed, and that feeling is magnified a million times over nine months later when our son is born.

AND ONE MORE EPILOGUE

Elise

A few years later

At last.

I have a moment alone to put up my feet and savor the quiet. The boys are outside in the backyard, and I’m away from the crazy day-to-day life of the agency back in Paris—the agency that Polly has been helping me run, now that I’ve become a little busier at home.

Busier baking.

Baking people.

I run a hand over my belly. It’s the second time it’s been this big, and there are a few people who are quite happy about that. Me, of course. My fabulous husband, who’s an even better father. And his mother. She is, quite simply, the perfect grandmother, and she’s convinced us to spend more time here in Copenhagen, so she can dote on her grandchildren.