Chapter 181
Jocelyn was in the bathroom, unpacking her toiletries bag. She felt like an intruder. The space was decidedly masculine — it smelled of Gaston, sandalwood and cedar with something crisp underneath, like sea salt. His razor sat on the counter. His creams were lined up with military precision.
She set her floral face wash beside his cologne. It looked intimate. Too intimate.
She took a breath and studied her own reflection. It’s just one night. He might be gay, but he’s still a man. And that kiss — that wasn’t a performance. This is just logistics.
She changed into her pajamas — a silk set that covered her from neck to ankle. Armor.
When she walked back into the bedroom, Gaston was already there.
R𝘦a𝘥 t𝗁𝘦 l𝘢te𝘴𝘵 𝘁𝗋e𝗇𝖽𝘴 𝘰n 𝗴аlո𝗈𝗏𝘦𝗅s.𝗰𝘰𝗺
He had changed too. Gone was the suit. He wore grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a simple white t-shirt that clung to the hard planes of his chest, outlining his pectorals and biceps. His arms were bare, and a hint of ink showed on his forearm.
Jocelyn stopped.
Stop staring, she told herself. He’s your husband. Who is gay. Probably.
Gaston caught her looking. His eyes darkened for a fraction of a second before he shuttered it.
“I’ll take the couch in the living room,” he said abruptly, reaching for a pillow. “The dust won’t kill me.”
“No!” Aaden scrambled off the bed and latched onto Gaston’s leg with both arms. “I’m scared of the dark! The plastic sheets make scary noises! You have to stay!”
“Aaden, I’m right here,” Gaston sighed, trying to pry the boy loose. “Jocelyn is here.”
“If you leave, the monsters come! All three of us!” Aaden’s voice climbed toward panic. “Please, Uncle G?”
Gaston looked down at him. He couldn’t say no. Not tonight. Not after what had happened with Justin.
He looked at Jocelyn. She was standing by the bathroom door with her arms wrapped around herself, looking small and vulnerable in the soft light, and incredibly beautiful.
“Fine,” Gaston growled. He tossed the pillow back onto the bed. “But if you kick me, you’re sleeping in the bathtub.”
Aaden cheered.
The logistics of climbing in were awkward.
“I’ll take the middle!” Aaden announced.
“Good idea,” Jocelyn said quickly. A buffer. Perfect.
Order established: Gaston on the left, Aaden in the middle, Jocelyn on the right.
Gaston reached over and clicked off the lamp. The room dropped into darkness, save for the ambient city glow filtering through the sheer curtains.
“Goodnight,” Aaden whispered.
“Goodnight,” Jocelyn and Gaston said in unison.
Silence settled over the room — not the hostile silence of the past few days, but something heavier and more charged, without the anger.
Jocelyn lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. She could hear Gaston’s breathing across the bed — slow and rhythmic. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, even with Aaden between them.
Aaden, true to form, was asleep within minutes, his breathing softening into quiet snores.
An hour passed. Jocelyn remained wide awake, every nerve ending attuned to the man on the other side of the mattress.
Then Aaden moved. He rolled over with the full, uninhibited force of a sleeping five-year-old, his foot connecting solidly with Gaston’s jaw.
“Oof,” Gaston grunted.