If you’re taking requests (idk if you’re trying to write in sequence but) may e rafe gets a gf or something and she wasn’t supposed to introduce herself to the kids but does and reader and rafe have a convo abt it but then the gf doesn’t last long anyway cause the kids don’t like her
And if we’re down for some smart kid replies maybe “I’ll be like your new mommy” “no you won’t I have a mom” idk
Oh maybe a family vaycay too (my parents weren’t together but did family vaycays for me). That’s all I got lol
THE COST OF JEALOUSY.
ex-husband!rafe x ex-wife!reader.
summary: out of an act of jealousy you're not used to having, your mouth gets you into a much difficult situation...
word count: 9k (cuz ik u missed them).
warnings: language. jealousy. maybe a girl being too dumb idk. (as always English isn't my first language so apologies for any possible grammatical errors).
author's note: well hi 😭 ik u missed this couple so here we are, i hope this is fun. also should i change the pics i use for them? 👀 or is it like too on brand already lol
EX-HUSBAND!RAFE MASTERLIST.
There's a silent agreement between you and Rafe about the kids. It has always been there, it will always be there.
You don't fight about the pick-ups or drop-offs. You've seen so many couples using the children as a way to irritate the other person, how every scheduled encounter becomes a literal war where they weaponize their children.
And, at the end of the day, it never really hurts the adults like they think it will. Maybe some do it to get attention, other to assert dominance in something that is no longer an union. But you and Rafe don't fall for it. No matter how angry you could be at each other, how much tension there could possibly be, that rule has stayed the same. If someone needs to change something, you both accept. Kids are kids.
That's why you're here, on a bloomy Sunday with the humidity breathing down your neck, making your way to the entrance to Rafe's Company building. Olivia and Parker are both ready to go, carrying their own bags with everything they might need for the week that they don't have at their dad's house (which are all unnecessary things).
You don't complain. Rafe always does the pick-ups and drop offs. He never misses a day, he's always on time. So, you were quick to agree today.
Rafe said he had a last minute meeting. Something that couldn't wait until Monday. It had to be today.
You don't have a problem, you were just going to walk inside, greet the employees who used to look up at you with fear and admiration while you were still Rafe's wife, get an ego boost and then leave. That's your only mission.
You're stopped on your way inside when you see Rafe himself coming out the place. Great, you think, the faster you do this, the faster you can go back to the AC in your car.
But he's not alone.
There's a girl hanging from his arm— literally. She's a dark brunette, gorgeous girl walking with long legs that could kill any human being that was after them. You're pretty sure she's almost Rafe's height. A freaking model.
She's following his steps, eagerly looking at him as she holds a folder with her other arm. You can see her voluptuous lips moving with a thousand words per minute. Rafe is frowning, typing down on his phone as he walked, nodding once in a while.
Just in time, he raised his eyes from the screen, crossing eyes with you first. Then, he looks down and there they are.
Olivia bolts forward before you can even react. Rafe barely has time to put his phone away before she collides with him. He grunts softly as he scoops her up, her laugh bright and uncontained. “Hey, babygirl,” He murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.
Then, with the most aggravating voice you could've ever hear (maybe to your biased ears) the girl with Rafe talks. "Oh, my God! You're Rafe's little angels!" She squeaks.
Rafe only exhales through his nose, half embarrassed as he looks away from you. "Yeah..." He reluctantly cooperated, adjusting Olivia in his arms.
You put a fake smile on your face, just to test if she'll notice. "And you are?" You make your voice high-pitched just like her, almost purposefully harmonizing.
"Nicole!" She said with a bright smile on her face, like that should explain everything. You pressed your lips in a tight line in some polite confusion. "Rafe's girlfriend!"
Oh! And she is younger! Not really young. You know Rafe is an, overall, decent man. He likes to keep things clean. But she's young enough to make a difference, just a few innocent years behind.
Rafe closes his eyes, only momentarily, only for a relieving second as he regrets every single life choice that led him to this moment. Fuck me, he thinks. This wasn't supposed to happen.
The fake enthusiasm in your voice increases. And Rafe can only sense his prominent and premature death. "Really? Awh...!" You gave Nicole another, overly sweet smile before your eyes flickered to Rafe. "So this is why you had to work on a Sunday!"
Rafe shoots you a look, something fast and practiced— a warning. You only smile back at him the same way Nicole does.
Parker, who has been standing awkwardly beside you like you're bullet proof, with his bag slipping off one shoulder, wrinkles his nose. He looks up at Rafe, then at Nicole.
“You have a girlfriend?” He asks, disgusted and mortified in equal measure.
"I—" Rafe starts and he gets cut off.
Nicole laughs immediately, a relaxed and mind disconnected laugh. “I know! It’s kind of crazy, right?” She proceeds to talk with her hands, making big gestures. “I mean, I’ve never dated someone with kids before, so this is all, like… new.” She ends the sentence with a soft squeak.
She nods to herself before adding: "But I'm like, super adaptable."
You hum, raising your brows a tiny bit with an unimpressed expression. "I bet." You half-smile.
"I just think it’s so cool,” She says, glancing at Rafe for validation, then back at you as if this conversation was totally meant to happen. “Like, family vibes. I love family stuff. I babysat once. For my cousin.”
Rafe winces almost imperceptibly.
“Oh! And I’m really organized,” She adds quickly, holding up the folder like proof. “I could totally help with schedules or lunches or— do kids still eat Lunchables?” She glances back at Rafe for information but she doesn't let him answer.
Olivia tightens her grip around Rafe’s neck, suddenly quiet.
Nicole tilts her head, watching her more closely. “Aw... Is she shy?” Before Rafe can answer, Nicole keeps talking. “I just mean, when you’re busy or, like, not around, y'know..." She says, smiling at you like she’s being incredibly considerate. “I could totally be like their mommy!"
Your neck tightens, eyes almost slicing her in half. "Rafe...?!" You ask him to get some control over the situation.
"I already have a mom." Olivia adds, uncomfortably clinging to Rafe's neck.
Rafe inhales sharply, jaw flexing as his free hand comes up to rub slow, reassuring circles into Olivia’s back. His eyes lift to yours, apologetic and strained, like he’s about to step in and finally draw a line.
“Okay,” He starts, voice low and careful. “That’s—”
“Oh! Totally,” Nicole blurts out before he can finish, nodding too fast. “Of course she does. I didn’t mean it like that.” She laughs again, light and airy, completely missing the way the air has gone tight. “I just meant, like… fun stuff. You know? Girl stuff!”
Rafe opens his mouth again.
Nicole keeps going.
“We could paint nails,” she says brightly, already imagining it. “Or have movie nights. I love Disney movies. And we could all hang out together, like one big—” She gestures vaguely in the air, searching for the word until she finally finds it. “—unit.” She concludes the sentence with a satisfied nod.
You feel your jaw tighten.
Rafe shifts Olivia higher on his arm, a warning breath leaving him. “Nicole—”
“And vacations!” The practically-model adds suddenly, eyes lighting up like she just solved a puzzle. “Oh, my God... vacations would be so fun.” She looks at the kids, then at you, smiling like this is the most natural idea in the world. “Kids love vacations.”
But... before you could stop it, something comes out of you. Hot and aimed with jealousy, unstoppable and irremediable:
"We're already going on vacation."
Fuck.
His head turns slowly toward you, eyes narrowing —not in confusion, not in anger but in something dangerously close to amusement. Recognition. Like he caught you in the act. And like he can't believe you're finally the one in this position.
Rafe's voice drawls slowly out of him, almost lazily like he's sitting down to watch the show. "Really?" He frowns, his expression was everything but upset. "We are?"
You lift your chin, refusing to back down but also refusing to meet his eyes. "Yes, we are." You confirmed.
Olivia gasps, excitedly moving her legs. "Really?!"
"We are?" Parker frowns, weirded out.
"Yes." You repeat without looking at your son.
Rafe lets out a quiet huff of a laugh through his nose, shifting his weight as he shrugs. “Funny,” He murmurs. “I don’t remember talking about that.”
You turn your head slightly toward him, offering a tight smile that doesn’t reach your eyes because something else does— knowledge. You know he knows. “We did.” you say sweetly. “You just forgot. Wouldn’t be the first time. Right, Nicole?" You turn to look at her, purposefully including her in the conversation as what she presented herself: Rafe's girlfriend.
Nicole laughs, clearly not understanding the hint or deciding to play dumb. "Right." But then her eyes get a spark. “Oh! Where are you going?” She asks eagerly instead. “I love traveling. Like, love it.”
"The..." You bit the inside of your cheek, hating your impulsive acting for saying this in front of your children. "... Maldives...?" You clear your throat. "The kids love it." You state, patting Parker's shoulder to confirm what you just said.
Parker frowns again, looking up at you. "We do?"
They've never been to The Maldives.
"Yes. You do." You say more sharply, subtly using that tone, the shut up tone.
Rafe let's out a soft chuckle, satisfaction written all over his... so smug and stupid face. He looks down at Olivia again, still in his arms, her mood changed completely.
"Huh." He shrugs with one shoulder again, acting innocent. "Guess I better clear my schedule, right?" He sweetly asks Olivia, who only agrees with him.
"When are we going?" Olivia asks, getting impatient in Rafe's arms as she asks to be set down.
"Soon." You hum, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to get distracted.
Nicole blinks, clearly trying to keep up from a conversation she was never really a part of. “Wait—like, soon soon?” She asks. “Because I have this thing in July, but August is way better for—”
“Nicole,” Rafe cuts in. It’s the first time he’s said her name like that. It's the first time you hear him saying her name, at all.
She stops mid-sentence. “Yeah?”
He finally turns fully toward her, expression neutral but unmistakably closed off. “You should head back inside. I’ll catch up later.”
Her smile falters, just a little. “Oh! I mean, I can totally wait. Or—” She gestures vaguely toward you and the kids. “I could help carry stuff or—”
“No,” he says again, calm but unyielding. “Go on. Go get the papers from my desk, the... blue folder. I need those." He gave her an excuse that he hoped would work to get everyone off such an awkward situation.
There’s a beat where she looks between you and him, confusion written all over her face, like she can’t figure out what was going in order for everything to get so tense.
“Oh, okay!" She says, nodding too much as if she somehow was walking back to her bubbly mood. “Yeah, of course! I’ll just—yeah."
She adjusts the folder against her chest, shoots you a bright smile that could melt anyone's heart. “Bye! It was really nice meeting you.” She said, genuine.
You hum, forcing a smile on your face as you try not to pay too much attention to the way her lashes are so beautiful done. "Likewise. Take care!"
Nicole turns around, her high heels clicking against the pavement the same way yours normally do. Mine sound more harmonized, anyways, you think. She looks over her shoulder once, expecting to have Rafe looking back at her the way he probably always does.
But he's not, his eyes are on you. "That sounded like a threat." He raised a brow at you.
"Don't what you're talking about."
Your daughter relaxes against Rafe once the extra, unknown presence is gone and it seems to immediately calm the tension between her parents.
Parker leans his shoulder against your hip. "You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend." He accusingly says to his father, still with a slightly repulsive expression.
Rafe grimaces. "Didn't come up."
"You don't like her." The kid says again, looking up to Rafe.
Rafe doesn't say anything, just a second to raise his brows to his own son who's too damn smart for his own good. "I like you," He offered instead, reaching to grab Parker's chin.
The boy seemed satisfied enough.
Rafe shifts his weight, resting his hands on his hips until he finally looks at you again. Really looks at you. There’s something alive in his eyes now— amused, sharp, unmistakably pleased. And you hate that you were the one who gave him that.
“So,” He says. “Vacation.”
You cross your arms, trying to act unbothered. “Don’t start.”
“You brought it up.” He points out. “In front of witnesses.” He gestures the whole situation that just went down.
“You were enjoying it." You shoot back, knowing how his mind worked.
He grins openly now, shameless. “I was.”
You tighten your arms over your chest, a defensive gesture purposefully showing your bad attitude. "You shouldn’t introduce people to the kids like that." Your voice came out more worried than you intended.
Rafe's smile falters, nodding with his head in a defeated manner. You weren't even supposed to encounter with Nicole. "I know. I'm sorry."
The silence between you stretches with everything that's left unsaid. Once again.
He swallows. "I won't." He tilts his head in forgiveness when you tilt yours. "Again."
"Good."
He takes the opportunity to step closer, the familiar gesture he does every single time you need to tell each other something without the kids hearing.
But this one's different because he's obviously smiling. "Didn't know you had it on you." The shit-eating grin in his face is so big you might wipe it off with a slap.
He can count the times he's seen you jealous since you met with one hand. It doesn't happen often.
You only roll your eyes, clenching your jaw and looking away from him. "Don't flatter yourself."
Rafe shakes his head. "Hm, too late. I already am."
You glare at him with a look you crafted over the years to make it look like rejection. "You're impossible."
"Still married me once." He argues back smoothly.
You shove Olivia's bag into his chest harder than necessary. “Take your kids.” You huff with exhaustion.
He laughs softly as he takes it, eyes never leaving your face. He scans it, trying to memorize the way you looked today— like, maybe after all, he's not the only one who still cares.
"See you in The Maldives, baby."
---
You're not surprised when three days later you get his text. Because of course he will take care of it, he doesn't even give you the time to back down from the mess you've created.
A forwarded itinerary to not give you the time to actually think about anything. Flight numbers, dates, a resort confirmation with a large amount of zeros. Then, underneath it all, a single line of text that makes you groan:
Rafe: Since we’re going on vacation apparently.
Your only reaction is to flat press your phone against the kitchen island, closer your eyes and, just like Rafe three days ago, regret ever single life choice that led you to this moment.
And here you are now, three weeks later...
The Maldives feel unreal the moment you step off the plane, like someone turned the saturation up on the world and the colors are suddenly brighter. The air is warm but gentle, salt-heavy and clean, wrapping around you instead of pressing down on you like it does in Outer Banks. Olivia gasps openly when she sees the water— impossibly clear, stretching out in shades of blue you didn’t know existed. Parker squints at the sun and declares it “too bright for his delicate eyes".
Rafe stands beside you at the dock, sunglasses on, one hand resting on the handle of a suitcase that definitely didn’t come cheap. He looks annoyingly at ease. Linen shirt, sleeves rolled, already tanned like he belongs there. Like he planned this whole thing without breaking a sweat. It irritates you how well he seems to fit anywhere.
The boat ride to the resort isn't quiet. The kids lean over the side, pointing out fish in the water below, Olivia squealing every time she spots something colorful as if she can't believe it's actually alive. Rafe corrects Parker’s wildly inaccurate guesses about marine life. And you only watch them all from your seat, something warm and uncomfortable settling in your chest. A feeling you had buried inside of you long ago when you assumed it wouldn't happen again.
The hotel rises from the water like a miracle—overwater villas stretching out across the sea, white wood and glass reflecting the sky. Everything smells like citrus and salt and money that you can spend. Staff greet you with practiced smiles and cool towels, floral-scented and refreshing against your skin that the kids take like it's a magical article.
The lobby isn’t enclosed so much as suggested—high ceilings, white fabric moving gently in the breeze, the ocean visible from almost every angle. It's modestly expensive, there's a floral scent that only a trained, rich nose can identify. And that's obviously you.
You stop without realizing it.
“You picked this?” you ask, turning to him, genuinely impressed despite yourself as if Rafe wasn't someone with good taste. “It’s… really nice.”
He glances at you, eyes narrowing with a sort of impatience as he figures out what his reaction is going to be. “Last time you complained our villa was too far from everything,” He says. “Now it’s too nice?”
You scoff. “I didn’t say too nice.”
“Sounded like it,” He replies, already moving forward.
The kids trail after him like perfect trained little ducks, Olivia practically vibrating, Parker pretending not to care while clearly caring a lot. Despite how much you hate to admit it— traveling with Rafe is easy. He plans everything ahead, he has everyone in line when it's needed. And it's almost like the kids turn into obedient soldiers when it comes to traveling with him, they just listen and follow him.
Even the Queen of organization can't deny his abilities. Is the businessman in him.
You approach the reception desk together, luggage set down neatly, the kind of luggage that suggests permanence rather than just four days, which is the amount of time you're staying. The receptionist greets you with a smile that knows exactly who she’s dealing with, clearly used to the level of her customers.
“Yeah, reservation under Cameron." Rafe says calmly, already pulling up his phone to check on the information.
The receptionist’s smile sharpens with recognition as she types. “Of course, Mr. Cameron.” Her fingers move quickly, confidently. She nods once, then looks up at both of you. “We have you in a family villa,” She says. “Two connecting rooms.”
You tilt your head. “Two?”
She hums with a smile that was meant to soothe you, the only thing it did was only aggravate you more after she talks again. "Yes! Three beds— two individual beds in the adjoining room, and one matrimonial bed in the main bedroom.”
You blink.
Then slowly, deliberately, you turn your head and stare at Rafe.
Not the quick, confused glance of someone mishearing. A full stare. The kind that has history behind it. The kind that asks are you out of your fucking mind?
Your eyes settle on Rafe’s profile, on the calm line of his mouth, on the way he doesn’t look surprised at all.
Oh. He absolutely knows.
You stare and he obviously feels it. It's hard not to, he's been a professional on sensing every single dagger you throw at him with your eyes for years now. It's like he built a unbreakable armor.
His jaw flexes once before he looks back at you, expression maddeningly neutral.
“Matrimonial.” You repeat, voice flat.
“Mhm." He hums. Rafe grimaces with innocence, raising one naive shoulder as he leans his elbow against the reception counter.
The receptionist glances between you, sensing something but not daring to name it. “If you’d prefer separate—”
“No,” Rafe says immediately, too fast like he expected this to happen. “This works.”
You blink once, incredulous with your current situation. “This works,” You echo, disbelief sharpening your tone.
He finally gives you a look then—mild, almost amused, like he’s poking a bruise he knows is still fresh. “Just wanted to save some money.”
You let out a short laugh, sharp and humorless.
Right. Because this isn't one of the richest men in the entire Outer Banks and probably all goddamn North Carolina.
How ironic he just started to get interested in discounts.
“Save money,” You repeat, tilting your head. Rafe knows you're about to bite back so hard you probably will end up cutting off his arm. “That’s funny. You should’ve told me— I totally could've covered it."
There it is. The reminder Rafe likes so much. The line you draw with a tight grip on a permanent marker. You’re not dependent. Never have been and he doesn't expect you to be— but if you're all here because you got jealous, then he is going to have the time of his life.
Rafe’s lips twitch, trying to fight off a smile. He shrugs lightly. “Didn’t think it’d be necessary.”
Your fingers snap forward before you even think about it, knowing that if you give him one more second of your attention only three people would be coming back home. You grab the key card straight out of his hand.
He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t even flinch. Just watches, eyes dark with something that looks shamelessly like satisfaction.
“Alright." You say, already turning away. “Let’s go, kids.”
Olivia immediately takes your hand. Parker follows without question, casting one last look over his shoulder at his father— curious like he knows something is happening but doesn’t yet have the words for it.
You walk off toward the wooden path leading to the villas, posture straight, steps purposeful and with Rafe's eyes all over you.
Then, the door opens.
Warm wood under your feet. High ceilings that don’t fail to impress. White curtains shifting lazily with the breeze, framing the ocean like it’s part of the decoration instead of the reason the place exists in the first place. Everything is so well color coordinated that feels almost unnatural— the linen seems to be the patent look around here.
Water everywhere. Below the deck, beyond the horizon. Even reflected faintly in the polished surfaces. It's a fucking postal picture.
Olivia gasps. Parker actually whistles (he hasn't stopped since he learned how to).
Rafe steps in behind you, hands in his pockets, taking it all in like he didn’t personally approve every detail. Like this is all slightly below his expectations, like he expected the place to be as perfect as it is.
You don’t say anything at first. You hate that your breath catches when you see how pretty everything is. You hate that he’s right here to see it if you react. The last time you even stepped on The Maldives was probably ten years ago.
“So,” He says casually, glancing around as he casually looks into the details. “Thought it’d be fine.”
You close your eyes for a moment. “Fine.”
He shrugs. “Decent.”
You walk farther in, heels clicking softly against the floor as you pass the open living area— plush couches, glass tables, a dining space no one will actually use. Floor-to-ceiling windows pulled back completely, the deck spilling right into the horizon.
There’s a private pool. Because of course there is.
“You’re impossible." You mutter.
Rafe follows, stopping just short of the bedroom threshold. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
You move forward before you can stop yourself, pulled toward the bedroom the way you knew you would be. The curtains are already open, sunlight spilling in, white fabric shifting lazily with the breeze. You push the door open—
And sigh. Just a slow, tired exhale as your eyes land on the bed.
It’s massive. Ridiculously so. Crisp sheets, pillows stacked with hotel detail, the kind of mattress that looks like it could bring many couples back to life.
“Unbelievable." You whisper to yourself. He obviously heard it.
Rafe leans against the doorframe, eyes flicking from you to the bed, clearly enjoying this way too much. “What? You don’t like it?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
He tilts his head, faux thoughtful. “I booked a family villa.”
“You booked one bed.”
"The kids have their own room."
You scoff in disbelief, knowing how impossible was not to fall into his games. You couldn't not react to this. Your jaw tightens while you gesture sharply toward the bed. “And we’re supposed to share a bed?”
Rafe shrugs, pushing off the doorframe and
stepping inside. “As if you haven’t shared a bed with me for years.” He wears a casual indifference that you know he only puts out when he wants to piss you off.
“That was before!" You snap, the words coming out faster than you want. “Before the divorce. Before your… girlfriend.” You give up with a soft groan.
You hate saying it. Hate that the word tastes bitter in your mouth. Hate that she’s the reason you’re here at all— that one stupid, impulsive moment where jealousy slipped through your fingers and you promised a vacation you could never been mentally prepared for.
Rafe doesn’t answer right away. He's savoring the taste of success, letting himself get soaked in it. For once, he's not the one going completely crazy!
He knows he shouldn't even care about it, he shouldn't even waste time thinking about it, you're divorced— bla, bla, bla... It's all bullshit for him if he gets a reaction like this.
He takes the moment to study you instead, head tilted slightly, like he’s piecing something together he already understands but wants you to say it out loud anyway. The amused ease never fully leaves him, but it shifts— tightens at the edges.
“Say it like that again,” He says quietly. “Makes it sound like you’re mad at me for it.”
You laugh once, sharp and hollow as you deflect. The beauty in the place could never be enough to ease the turmoil inside of you. “I’m not mad. I just don’t want to share a bed with you while you’re dating someone else.”
Dating. Right...
He doesn't waste his time correcting you, because then he wouldn't have the amazing chance to say something like this:
“So,” He says calmly, a Cheshire cat smile appears on his face. “if I wasn’t dating someone… you would share a bed with me?”
You freeze.
Just for half a second. Long enough for him to notice and long enough to know you just gave him something to live off for the next six months.
“That’s not what I said." You snap, heat rushing to your face despite yourself.
“But it’s what you meant,” he replies easily. Too easily. He steps closer, not crowding you, just enough to be there. “You didn’t say you wouldn’t share a bed with me. You said you wouldn’t do it while I’m dating someone.”
You hate him for that. For noticing the little cracks in the tailored armor you always wear on you, for knowing how to get under your skin with the only purpose of making you blush. You hate him.
"You're still so loyal..." He teases.
"I'm gonna fucking—" The threat dies quickly in your lips when you hear Parker yelling from outside the main bedroom.
"Mom! Can we go swimming?!"
You sigh, biting back the words that you were about to let out to your dear ex-husband, the one person you're going to have to live with for the next four days that you're trying so hard to maintain peace with.
"I don't want to make this messy or just more confusing for the kids." You said softly, looking up at him with a clenched jaw.
Rafe scoffs softly, your ability to fall back right into the virgin act getting under his skin. “You made it messy the second you decided to compete.”
Your eyes land harshly on his form, jaw clenching as you defend yourself. “I’m not competing.”
“You are,” He says firmly. “You always do this— you act first, regret it later, then pretend it was all me.” He looks down at you with a hardness on his eyes that you haven't seen in a while. Things have been somewhat stable between the two of you— until now.
“That’s unfair.” You swallow.
“Is it?” His voice lifts slightly, frustration cracking through his calm demeanor. “You didn’t have to say anything the other day.”
You look down for a second. “I know.”
“But you did.” He continues, eyes locked on you now. “So don’t stand there acting like the bed is the problem.”
Silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable with the unclosed bond between the two of you. There’s nothing comfortable about a sentence that never found its period, only commas that keep dragging it forward.
Finally, you straighten. Defensive and guarded, a sight he's too used to seeing. “I’m not sleeping with you, Rafe.”
He lets out a short and humourless laugh. "No one said you were."
You push past him, grabbing your bag from where you dropped it earlier. “I’m taking the side room. You can have the bed.”
He catches your wrist— not hard, not forceful. It's an easy touch, any touch that comes from him is enough to stop you after so long. “There is no side room for you,” He says evenly. “That’s the kids’ room.”
You look down at his hand, then back up at his face. “Let go.”
He does. Immediately.
“Fine." He sighs with reluctance. “Couch it is.”
You arch a brow. “Really?”
“For now,” He adds, eyes dark with something unreadable. He still has the audacity to hint at something else. “Unless you change your mind.”
You scoff, turning away again. “Don’t hold your breath.”
The tension doesn't disappear after that but you ignore it, you get ready to do what you came here for— vacation.
While Olivia argues about which swimsuit she’s wearing first, Parker claims he doesn’t need sunscreen and gets immediately overruled. The villa fills with movement, the low, domestic kind that reminds you this was once every single day.
You kneel on the floor with the sunscreen bottle, Olivia standing between your knees, arms out like she’s being inspected. You rub the lotion into her shoulders, down her arms, careful and thorough. The sun here isn’t forgiving. You’ve learned that lesson the hard way with Rafe the last time you were here— he came back on a different shade of red.
"Don't forget my legs." She asks, smart and worried.
You smile, nodding as you keep working. "I won't."
Rafe hovers nearby, shirt already off, board shorts slung low on his hips looking like a dream to some and like a nightmare to you. He’s pretending to help Parker with his goggles, but his attention keeps drifting back to you. The sunglasses he's wearing do nothing to hide the way his eyes are scanning you.
You finish with Olivia, cap the bottle and stand up.
When you straighten up, the breeze hits your skin immediately. The bikini you chose is simple and expensive, clean lines, nothing loud. It sits on you like a second skin, annoyingly well fitted. The sun catches your skin, the breeze lifts a strand of hair, and for a second everything aligns too perfectly.
And Rafe looks. He can't help it.
It’s immediate and physical, the kind of reaction that hits low and sharp before logic has a chance to intervene. His gaze drags, slow and unguarded, hunger settling in his chest like something familiar and unwelcome. Not desire he can act on, obviously— just the awareness of your permanent effect on him. Just the ache of noticing how you look now, how you somehow keep getting more beautiful with time instead of less (he knows that could never happen, tho).
It irritates him. That part most of all. It's like you can't give him a break.
You haven’t noticed yet, or maybe you have and don’t care. Either way, you straighten fully, brush your hands together, entirely composed.
He swallows, jaw tightening.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move closer or lets himself linger too long, even if every instinct tells him to. He forces his eyes away eventually, fixes them on Parker, on the pool, on anything that isn’t you.
Control, control. He reminds to himself.
When you glance his way, your eyes catch his just briefly. You lift your chin slightly. “What?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze lingers a second too long before he exhales, slow and controlled, like he’s reining himself in and failing. “Nothing.” He says, which is an obvious lie.
You arch a brow. “You’re staring.”
"So?" He asks, he's not getting defensive but his voice comes out rougher than before.
"Try being subtle." You smile, walking up to where he was with the sunscreen bottle still on your hand. You don't give him a second to respond before you get on his space, pointing his shoulder. "You missed a spot." You say flatly.
He takes the sunscreen but doesn’t move. His eyes flick up to yours, then back down again, like he’s fighting muscle memory.
“This is unfair,” He mutters, practically bothered by your wrapping presence.
You raise your brows. “Excuse me?”
“You..." He says, annoyed now— not at you exactly, but at himself. “You walk around like this and act surprised when I look.” The words come out in a flicker of irresponsibility, something he couldn't contain.
“That’s not my problem." You reply smoothly, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you take the upper hand in the situation again.
He finally squirts sunscreen into his hand, rubbing it into his shoulder with a little too much force. “You always did this.” He says, not specifying what is that you always did just for the sake of his own children.
You roll your eyes, giving him the irritated expression he always loved so much before turning away from him. "Whatever, Rafe."
The day unwraps practically without a single problem. The only thing that's irritated it's your throat after screaming the kids to not run around the pool and the stairs that lead to the open water. Overall, it doesn't look like this was the worst outcome out of your jealous outburst. Ugh, you still hate the fact that you did, tho.
You just blatantly exposed yourself to him.
Some room service comes by, something that was enough to satiate Rafe's necessity of spoiling his kids. You can't deny it: he's great for family vacation. He always has the energy to keep up with the twins even when you can't bare with yourself. He knows how to handle their energy.
When they seemed calm enough, sitting on the pool stairs with one of those floating trays with some fruit snacks, only then Rafe came out of the pool for the first time since they entered.
He walks out of the pool with heavy steps, water dripping from him like honey. It seemed like the water slowed down down his abdomen to create a more cinematic (to not say something else) effect on his walk. Straight out of Baywatch.
He dropped heavily on the deck chair next to yours, groaning softly the moment he feels some sore muscles as he rubs the soft towel around his shoulders and torso.
You hand him the juice he ordered without looking at him, settling back on your chair.
"Thanks." He mutters, taking a sip.
The silence between you stretches dangerously, enough to give you the time to obviously provoke him. You both don't get tired of tiring each other.
You sip your own drink, eyes on the pool while you speak. “So… how’s your girlfriend?” You ask, casual enough to almost believe it yourself.
Rafe frowns, turning toward you. “What?”
You finally glance at him. “Nicole..." You say, dragging the name out in a dramatic tone, just enough to give it a mocking accent to it.
“Oh, right,” He suddenly remembers, rubbing his forehead. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He groans like the word alone annoys him.
You try not to roll your eyes but it's impossible. "No?" You ask, voice overly sweet the same you had done when you talked to her. "But she sounded pretty sure of it." You pout.
He tilted his head. "She assumes things."
Rafe exhales through his nose, clenching his jaw before adding: "She knows what we are." He says in that tone he acquired since he was officially single— detached, not meant to be heard by you.
You wrinkle your nose, visibly displeased at the idea of imagine what or who Rafe does on his free time. "Ugh." You put a hand in front of him in a sign of disgust. "I don't wanna know what your deals are." You shake your head.
“That’s not—” He stops himself, shakes his head awkwardly and avoids looking at you. “It’s not like that.”
"Then what's it like?" You ask, skeptically waiting for him to tell you how, at the end of the day, it's exactly like that.
"Like nothing," He deflects. Rafe leans back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the pool. “My team wanted her. She works with one of the firms we partnered with on the expansion, just a temporary assignment.” And that's the key word, apparently— temporary. Although you're not sure if he's going to tell you that.
“And you just… stumbled into her?” you ask.
"No." He frowns, wondering why is he even telling you this. He always had a hard time hiding you things, you're like a truth serum. "HR pushed it through because she’s efficient and already familiar with their systems. She's just a secretary."
Oh, he just gave the biggest opener.
You scoff, putting your drink down. "Oh, c'mon." You roll your eyes with exaggeration.
"What?" He asks, getting defensive.
"A secretary? That's so predictable it hurts, Rafe." You almost wanted to laugh by how typical it sounds. Apparently it's a universal experience all CEO's have to go through to be a part of the club or something.
"It's not like that."
"Please," You roll your eyes again, moving the straw of your drink in a mighty manner. "It's always like that— Boss and secretary? C'mon, where have you been, Rafe."
“She doesn’t work for me,” He corrects, feeling the need to prove himself to you. “She supports the project. When the project it's done, so is she in my company."
"Right, right." You nodded, humming to yourself as if you're coming up with something even worse. "And you just... happen to date her?"
"We're not—" Rafe was going to correct again. But then he remembered he doesn't have to anymore. As much as he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to explain himself to you anymore. "Right. It just happened."
“Right,” You repeat, unimpressed. You lean back on your chair, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately. “It just happened. Very organic, very accidental. You tripped, she fell, suddenly she’s announcing herself as your girlfriend to your kids.”
If there's an image of Rafe you never expected having was this— him single, having arrangements you don't even want to know about. You never really pictured him as the non-commitment guy.
Rafe exhales through his nose, jaw tightening. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic." You shoot back in that fast way of yours that made Rafe believe you should be working on business. “She didn’t sound temporary. She sounded like you were at the fruit marker together."
“That’s not fair.”
Is that his phrase of the day?
“Neither was her offering to be their mom when I wasn't there." You say flatly.
That one stings.
Rafe’s gaze snaps back to you, irritation finally cracking through the calm. "That crossed a line."
"Oh? Glad we agree on something."
"And I shut that down." He added.
“Did you?” You ask quietly, looking down for a moment before composing. “Because from where I was standing, she was still talking.”
He rubs his hand over his face, clearly regretting this entire conversation. “I told her to go back inside.”
“After she talked about vacations and family bonding." You quickly reply. “Very reassuring.” Your voice drips with the sarcasm the bitterness in you was handing.
Silence stretches between you again, thicker this time. The kids laugh loudly in the pool, splashing without a care in the world, completely unaware they’re the centerpiece of a conversation neither of you wants to be having.
Rafe leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I didn’t bring her into their lives. You did.”
You slowly turn your head to him. “Oh,” Your voice sharp but indignated. “So now this is my fault?”
“You’re the one who showed up,” he says, tone even but pointed. “You’re the one who asked her about it.” Not really— Nicole just talked, but, semantics.
“I showed up because you asked me to." You snap at him while trying not to raise your voice every time Rafe gets under your skin. “Because you had a meeting.”
“And I didn’t expect you to cross paths, alright?" He fires back. “I didn’t expect that. I didn't plan it.” It almost aggravates you how much he learned to play innocent.
You let out a humorless laugh. “Funny, she seemed very prepared to me.”
Rafe straightens in his chair, irritation finally slipping through the cracks. It’s subtle, but you know him too well to miss it. “You’re enjoying this.” He practically grunts.
Your brows lift. “Excuse me?”
“You literally never get jealous,” He continues, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “And now suddenly—”
“I am not jealous.”
He smirks despite himself. Just a touch, because you're still always so amusing to him. “You are.”
“I’m annoyed." You correct, voice tight. “There’s a difference.”
“Sure,” He says lightly— too lightly because he knows he's right. “That’s why we’re in the fucking Maldives.”
You shoot him a warning look, giving him the heads up that he'll have an expiration date if he doesn't stop. “Don’t.”
“You said it." He reminds you calmly. “In front of her. In front of the kids.”
“And you booked it,” You fire back. “Very fast, by the way." You add like a matter of fact. "Almost like you wanted it.”
Rafe lets out a quiet laugh, more breath than sound, and leans back again like this whole thing is entertaining him despite the edge in his tone. “Don’t play dumb,” He says. “You know I take every chance you give me.”
"Whatever." You mutter, turning your attention back to your drink, neck straight looking at the pool.
But your grip tightens around the cup.
Rafe will be damned if he lets a single opening with you pass him by. Not because he thinks it'll magically fix everything— but because you're still you and that'll never change and the people around him know it. No matter what the divorce papers say, the years between you don't erase.
The one thing in his life that was never replaceable, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise.
He takes every chance because walking away for good would mean admitting there really are no more left. And Rafe Cameron doesn't do surrender.
And then Rafe stands suddenly, falling effortlessly into the role that fits him best. "Hey! No running." He barks in dad-mode to Parker when he passed running too fast in front of you.
Whatever.
Then the night arrives, and with it does the irremediable truth you have to face: the bed. It almost sounds terrorific in your head, as if the idea of sharing a bed with Rafe again (which, you refuse to do) is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. Only because you obviously remember how good it used to be.
You thought about every possible solution for this and there's really none. You can't make the kids sleep on the queen size bed because one of them always ends up on the floor after a fight, you can't sleep on the bed with one of the kids either because they're both in this heavenly (but now inconvenient) stage where they hate sharing the bed.
There's no escape.
You had dinner in a beautiful restaurant next to the water, you two sitting in front of the twins like the well respected and totally not divorced family that you've always been. You had a great time. You all laughed when Rafe practically melted at his spicy food, you all loved Olivia's dessert and you collectively decided you wouldn't try another seaweed ever again.
it was amazing. It was family time, it was everything that looked like the kids needed this whole time. A break from the normal cruelty that involves living separated, a break for them from having to split to spend time with both of their parents.
"You sure you guys don't wanna watch a movie?" You insisted, helping them to get tucked in.
"No." Parker says flatly when you ask them for the fifth time since you walked inside the villa again.
"We could order something—"
"Mommy, I'm tired!" Olivia says, looking at you with her eyebrows raised and that look that you should know best— Rafe has it. It means no more bullshit.
You sigh in defeat. "Right."
Rafe rolled his eyes from his standing place next to Parker's bed, deciding to ignore the way your avoidance to even remotely be alone with him irritates him. "Alright, kiddos..." He leaned in, pressing a kiss on the boy's head first. "Don't get eaten in your sleep, bud." He whispers with a smile.
Parker giggles in recognition. "I won't."
And it's so obvious but still so surprising— they have a routine from when they stay with him. They have things— details that they only do when their with him. It's something you haven't thought about until now, it's been so long since you've seen Rafe on bed time.
He reaches out for his best girl. "And I will see you up and bright tomorrow." Olivia smiles like she was meant to be smiling for Rafe when he says those familiar words to her and after he kisses her cheek.
God, you didn't even know they said this things to each other. You don't know a lot about how they live when they're with Rafe now that you think about it. You don't know the secrets and the way they communicate.
"Bye, daddy." She kisses his cheek back.
Then it's your turn when he walks back to the door. You sit down on Olivia's bed, brushing a hair off her face like you do every night. "I love you, Oli. Have sweet dreams." You say, using that nurturing voice that always came so naturally for you.
Her little hand touches yours cheek and you kiss her palm, leaning down to press your lips softly against the skin between her brows.
You get up and look at Parker, who's eyes are shining by the sight of you. "I'll be right next door, baby." You rub his chest softly, knowing Parker sometimes gets nightmares that tend to keep him up.
"I know." He whispers.
"I love you." And with that, you lean and press a lovely kiss against his forehead the same way you do with his sister.
And just like that, Rafe is closing the door to their room after the sweet goodbyes. Bed time has always been one of your favorites, you both love the intimacy and sweetness in it.
But... the moment is broken by the sight of your own room, the one you have to share. And right now, it looks like a damn minefield that you don't want to step in.
"Alright, so... Just give me one of the pillows, I'll take the couch." Rafe says, a tired frown on his face that indicates how much sleep he needs after a long day.
You frown confusedly and then you see the miserable thing he's about to sleep in. The couch that's next to the glass door that definitely won't be able to fit the massive entirety of what is Rafe.
"Rafe..." You sigh irritated with the thought of feeling guilty about something he arranged. Still, you feel guilty.
“What?” he asks, already sounding tired. Exhausted, really. His shoulders are slumped, movements slower than usual.
“That thing is going to destroy your spine.”
"C'mon, I planned the whole thing." He admitted, revealing that he infact did it all to piss you off. "It's gonna bite me in the ass."
You hate the way your tired heart feels sorry for the way he takes it as a punishment. If you weren't in such need to sleep you probably would've been a little bit more satisfied.
You climb on the bed, he tries to lay down on the couch and soon, the lights are off.
On the couch, Rafe shifts constantly. The fabric creaks. He stretches an arm, pulls it back. Tries lying on his side then tries on his back, nothing works. Mutters something under his breath when his feet hang off the edge. Every movement reminds him of how stupid this was— how close you are and how far he’s forcing himself to be.
In the bed, you stare at the ceiling, wide awake, the bed too big without him and too small because of him being so close. You’re acutely aware of every sound he makes, of the fact that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted to.
Another creak. A muttered curse.
You exhale sharply. “Oh my God. Just—” You roll onto your side, annoyed and exhausted. “Just sleep on the fucking bed.”
Silence.
Then, cautious: “You sure?”
“Yes." You snap. “You’re not sleeping on that thing.”
Rafe doesn’t argue. He never does when he’s this tired.
He stands quietly, every movement careful, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind. Almost like he's been waiting for the permission. When he lies down, he stays rigid on the far edge, hands folded, leaving space like it’s a line he refuses to cross.
For him, it’s worse than the couch.
The mattress sinks under his weight and his chest tightens painfully with memories. Being this close without touching takes more restraint than distance ever did. His body remembers you— how you fit, how nights used to end like this no matter how the situation was between you. He stares into the dark, forcing himself to stay still.
He stares at the ceiling, jaw tight, reminding himself that this isn’t the same. That papers were signed. That lines were drawn. But the bed doesn’t care about any of that.
You both lie there, stiff and silent, staring into opposite darkness.
Three years.
That’s how long it’s been since you last slept like this. Same bed, same presence but everything's different.
You feel his breathing before you realize it— slow, deepening. He falls asleep faster than you expect, like his body gives up the second it’s allowed rest.
You don’t.
You’re too aware of him. Of how close his arm is, of the way his leg shifts in sleep, inching closer without intention. Of how familiar it all feels despite how much time has passed.
Three years of learning how to sleep alone again, of reclaiming space, of convincing yourself you didn’t miss this particular way of being intimate. And yet here you are, hyper-aware of every inch of him— how close his arm is, how the mattress subtly pulls you together.
Your chest tightens.
Eventually, exhaustion wins.
Sometime during the night, his arm slips around your waist instinctively, heavy and still so possessive despite Rafe being asleep. Your body responds before your brain can stop it, backing into his warmth like it’s muscle memory. Your back pressed against his chest, your legs messily tangling with each other under the sheets.
Rafe wakes briefly like that in the middle of the night.
It hits him all at once— your body, your warmth, the way you fit against him like you always did. His chest tightens painfully, eyes slightly glistening the moment he decides to look down at your face: so at ease and exactly where you should be.
"Shit," He murmurs to himself, the way it's still so obvious how much he likes it.
He's so fucked.
He doesn’t move, he doesn’t dare. He closes his eyes again and goes back to sleep, pretending this isn’t undoing him from the inside out.
For the next two nights after that, Rafe made sure to wake up before you to unwrap himself from your body when inevitably the cuddling kept happening. Just so when you wake up the next morning it looks like nothing had happened, you're still untouched and he's still the evil span you're so irritated by.
But you don't know about it, you have no idea and it was going to stay that way.
By the fourth and last day, he's rushing his way out of the fucking place. He doesn't think he can take another night of such such a comforting torture, another night of having your beautiful form in his arms— all unknown by you because it happens when you're both asleep in the middle of the night, the moment were true selves come out to play.
The only thing you know, is how three days later— no more and no less, you get some news. You're hanging out with your friends at the country club. It's the one place most them can agree on going, so you only settle for your refreshing cocktail until...
"Hey, have you heard?" One of them says, nodding with her head at you.
You shake your head, straw in between your lips. "'Bout what?" You raise one brow in curiosity.
"You told me Rafe was dating a girl?" She tried to remember the conversation you had back when you first find out, right after Rafe had sent you the text with the vacation plans. "What was she...? A lawyer—"
"A secretary." You cut her off, the bitter correction was stronger. "Nicole..." You roll your eyes, knowing that you have the liberty of doing so with your friends. Even tho, according to Rafe, they weren't 'dating', whatever the fuck that means for him.
She nods again, humming like she suddenly had the face of the girl in her head even tho she has never seen her before. "Oh, right, right..."
"Well, Rafe broke up with her."
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