One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 134: Chapter 134

It had taken two weeks of planning, four backup babysitters, three wardrobe meltdowns, and one stubborn toddler tantrum to get them out of the house.
But they made it.
Arielle stood in front of the mirror adjusting the sapphire earrings Damien had bought her during her second trimester. The ones she’d never worn until now. Her dress—deep burgundy silk that wrapped her like a second skin—flowed around her healing body. She hadn’t felt beautiful in months.
Tonight, she looked at her reflection and thought: Maybe. Just maybe.
Damien whistled low when he saw her descend the stairs. He was already in his charcoal suit, no tie, the top two buttons open, his wedding ring catching the light as he reached for her.
“Remind me why we ever leave the house?” he asked, voice roughened by awe.
She laughed. “Because we need to be adults for three hours.”
“Right. That.”
He kissed her slowly, pressing his forehead against hers. “If this goes well, maybe next time I’ll book us an overnight.”
Her brows rose. “Dream big, Mr. Whitaker.”
The restaurant was perfect—until it wasn’t.
It started with the valet. They arrived to find the entrance blocked by a fire truck. A minor kitchen incident had filled the dining room with smoke, so the host ushered them to a waiting area outside—with complimentary champagne, at least.
Arielle tried to sip but nearly spilled half of it when she felt her nursing pads leak.
Damien noticed instantly. “Want to go back home?”
She shook her head. “We’ve made it this far. I’m not turning back because my boobs are traitors.”
He snorted into his glass.
Ten minutes later, they were finally seated. The menu was sleek and illegible, filled with dishes like ‘carrot espuma’ and ‘lamb air.’
Arielle blinked at the prices. “Is this carrot going to recite Shakespeare?”
Damien leaned over. “I think I’m going to need a cheeseburger after this.”
They both laughed—too loud, too much. But it felt good.
Then came the food. The lamb was raw. Arielle’s salad was missing half its ingredients. Damien’s wine tasted like vinegar.
“Oh my God,” she said between bites. “This is so bad it’s almost romantic.”
He grinned. “Want to ditch?”
They bolted.
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on the hood of their car outside a taco truck. Arielle had her heels off, dress hiked up just enough to keep the salsa off the hem, and her mouth full of glorious, greasy carnitas.
“This,” she moaned. “This is a five-star experience.”
Damien took a huge bite of his burrito and nodded. “This is what real love looks like. Bad food, leaky boobs, and the world’s best tacos.”
She elbowed him, laughing.
They stayed there, watching the city lights flicker and fade as people rushed past them in the night.
The drive home was quieter. The kids were asleep when they walked in. The sitter waved sleepily and left with a grin, whispering, “You two look happier than when you left.”
Arielle dropped her bag. Damien poured two glasses of wine from their kitchen stash and held hers out.
“To disasters,” he said.
She touched her glass to his. “To laughing through them.”
He leaned in. “To the sex after them.”
She choked on her sip.
They made it to the bedroom before the tension snapped.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t flawless. But it was real.
He kissed her like she was still the woman who could undo him with one glance, and she touched him like she needed to feel every heartbeat that proved he was still hers.
They undressed each other slowly. Carefully. Not in desperation—but in reverence.
Damien traced her scar, whispering, “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She gasped as he lowered himself, his mouth pressing against the skin just beneath her breast. “I don’t care if we mess this up,” she whispered. “I just want to remember how this feels.”
“You will,” he promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”
And he did.
He worshiped her.
Their bodies found a rhythm they hadn’t known they’d missed—a language rediscovered in the hush between heartbeats and moans. Every kiss said, I missed this. Every touch said, You still belong here.
After, they lay tangled in sweat and sheets, their breaths slowing.
Arielle turned to him, brushing a strand of hair from his brow.
“We should go on bad dates more often.”
He smiled against her neck. “As long as they all end like this.”
She laughed softly, then whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me back to myself.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You were never lost. Just waiting for a moment like this to remember.”
Outside, the wind howled softly.
Inside, they slept in each other’s arms.
Disaster turned magic.
Love—still wild, still resilient.