Best Friends Don't Kiss

by Max Monroe

  Me: Sorry to burst your bubble, but, uh, I won’t be able to do that.

  Thatcher Kelly: And why the fluff not?

  Me: Them’s the NASA rules, man. Something about the importance of staying focused while facing the sometimes very dangerous obstacle that is flying around in space.

  Thatcher Kelly: Fluffing lame.

  Me: How about this? When Ava and I are in Vermont for the holidays, we’ll make a stop in New York to see you guys.

  Truthfully, we’re already planning on doing that because of Trevor and Desi and Claire, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  Thatcher Kelly: Pfft. Yeah. Whatever. That’s fine.

  Ha. He is so transparent it’s not even funny.

  Me: So, basically, what you’re saying is that you mostly just wanted me to call you from space so you could be fucking nosy, not so much so you could know I’ve arrived to the Space Station safely?

  Thatcher Kelly: Bingo bango, bud. ;) But seeing you guys in December sounds good too.

  Me: LOL. I’ll have Ava get it all squared away with Cassie.

  “Uh, excuse me?”

  I look up to find Ava standing in our kitchen, her body completely bare of clothes.

  “Well, hello there, Ace.” Instantly, a devilish smirk consumes my lips, and I don’t hide the fact that my eyes move down her body, taking in every inch of her glorious curves. “I see you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

  “I sure did.” She nods and bites her bottom lip. But then, her lips turn down at the corners. “Although, you appear quite overdressed for the evening.”

  “My apologies,” I respond and don’t hesitate to remove my clothes, right there in the middle of our kitchen. First, my shirt. Then, my shoes and socks. And as I slide my pants and boxers down my legs, I ask, “And what exactly do you have planned for this evening?”

  “Not sure.” Ava shrugs and bats her eyelashes. “Probably a little of this, a little of that.”

  “Coy looks good on you, Mrs. London.”

  “You know what else looks good, Mr. London?”

  “What?”

  “That big cock of yours inside me.”

  Her words urge a raspy growl from my throat. And, if it’s even possible, that big cock of mine gets even harder, jutting out from my body as I stride over to do what I do best—make all my wife’s wishes and dreams come true.

  With her in my arms and her legs wrapped around my hips, I lift my gorgeous, naked wife up so that her ass rests on the kitchen island, her thighs spread perfectly for me.

  She is a fucking masterpiece, and I am here to worship at her perfect fucking feet.

  Kneeling down before her, I place soft, openmouthed kisses from the tips of her toes all the way up her feet, her legs, and I don’t stop until my mouth hovers at the apex of her thighs.

  “More?” I ask, and she inhales a whimpering breath, the shaky moment making her breasts push out from her chest.

  “Yes. Please.”

  She doesn’t have to ask me twice. My mouth is on her pussy between one blink and the next, and the taste, the smell, the feel that is all Ava fills my senses.

  This is fucking heaven.

  Her fingers slide into my hair, and moans escape her throat as I kiss and lick and eat at her. Her thighs tremble, and her breasts move up and down with each stuttering inhale and exhale of her lungs.

  It’s not long before her body clenches tight, her fingers gripping my hair tighter, as Ava shouts her climax into the silence of our kitchen.

  Damn, I love making her come.

  I try to give her a minute to catch her bearings, but as I stand there, pressing soft and gentle kisses to her belly and thighs and chest and neck, the need for her becomes too strong to deny.

  Pulling her into my arms, I carry her from the kitchen, up the stairs, and I don’t put her down until we are in our bedroom and Ava’s gorgeous body is resting on top of our white linen comforter.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I whisper as I move my body above hers. She responds by wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.

  “So are you.” Her blue eyes stare deep into mine. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “Me too, Ace. Me too.” I press a soft and gentle kiss to her lips. “Can I make love to you, baby?”

  “Please,” she begs, and a tiny tear slips out of one of her eyes.

  I lean forward to kiss it from her cheek.

  “I need you, Ava,” I whisper, and her legs and arms grip me tighter. “So much.”

  A soft little moan escapes her lips as I slowly, so slowly, slide myself inside her.

  And I just stare down at her, taking in the way her blue eyes look when she’s staring up at me. The way her cheeks are flushed pink. The way her lips part when I’m inside her.

  I take a mental picture of every-single-fucking-thing that is my beautiful wife.

  My Ava.

  My everything.

  “Soon, your life is going to seem very strange,” Ava says, her head resting on my bare chest and her eyes meeting mine. “You’re literally not going to be on Planet Earth. You’re going to be in freaking space, Luke.”

  “I know.” I smirk down at her and gently run my fingers up and down her back. “It’s almost too surreal to think about.”

  “I’m proud of you,” she says, smiling up at me. That smile is equal parts happy and sad. “I mean, I’m not a fan of you leaving me for six months and I’m going to miss you like crazy, but I’m so proud of you.”

  “I couldn’t have done any of this without you,” I whisper and lean down to kiss her lips. “And I’m hoping you’re going to keep yourself incredibly busy at the galleries while I’m gone.”

  “That’s the plan.” She smiles. “And you’ll be back in time to celebrate Christmas with me.”

  “You bet your sweet ass, I will.”

  “We’ll try to find a way to talk every day?” she asks. “Even if it’s just a short message.”

  I pull her closer to my chest. “I won’t let a day go by without at least saying hello and sending you a song.”

  When I was in training, there were times I’d have to be away from Ava for weeks at a stretch, and I started sending her songs every day. It was a way for her to know I was thinking about her.

  “A song every day? For six months straight?” She snorts. “That’s, like…” She pauses, and I already know the answer to the question she’s trying to calculate in her head.

  “One hundred and eighty songs.” I smile down at her. “Ace, for the next six months, not a single day will go by without you knowing that I’m thinking about you,” I whisper and press a lingering kiss to her lips. “NASA might have been the dream, but you’re my world. Never forget that.”

  Surprising October

  Ava

  Luke: Ace, I hope you have a fan-fucking-tastic time with Desi and Claire this weekend. Thinking about you always. Missing you like crazy. Loving you madly.

  Luke: Ava’s Daily Song: “Dream A Little Dream of Me,” The Mamas & The Papas.

  I smile when I read Luke’s latest message and daily song on the secure platform that’s allowed us to stay in contact over the past four months. In what’s become my daily routine, I download the song to the Spotify playlist I’ve been using to collect all the tracks he’s sent me.

  I turn up the volume on my laptop and listen.

  It starts out soft. Slow. Entrancing, even. And by the time the song builds and the lyrics fill my head, tears stream down my cheeks. They’re happy. They’re sad. They’re bittersweet.

  God, I miss him.

  Four. Whole. Months.

  That’s how long my husband has been gone, in freaking space.

  One hundred and twenty days without him here with me.

  To say it’s hard is an understatement. Honestly, I was doing okay for the first month or so, but these last two months have hit me kind of hard. I feel tired all the damn time. I cry at really weird, random things. And I’ve resor
ted to eating my feelings a little too much.

  I’m doing my best to stay focused on my paintings and running the galleries, but when I come home at night to an empty house, it can be a tad bit overwhelming.

  Thankfully, though, my best gal pals will be arriving here any minute to spend the week with me in Houston. Their boisterous and always fun presence will be a much-needed distraction.

  Once the song ends, I let it roll over to the beginning of the playlist, and one by one, all of Luke’s songs start to fill the quiet of our living room.

  First, “You Are the Best Thing” by Ray LaMontagne.

  Followed by “Everyday” by Slade.

  Then “Waltz of the Flowers” by Tchaikovsky.

  Next thing I know, the stupid tears are back, streaming down my cheeks in steady waves, and all I can think to myself is, Damn, girl, you are emotional.

  Once I turn off the music and manage to get it together, several persistent knocks resound from the front door, and I waste no time jogging toward the entry and swinging it open.

  “Oh my gosh, you’re here!” I exclaim when I see the smiling faces on the other side of the door.

  “Ava!” Claire shouts.

  “We have arrived!” Desi exclaims.

  I squeal, and then, when they pull me into a tight group hug, I start freaking crying again.

  “Ava?” Desi asks, and Claire’s face immediately morphs from excited to concerned.

  “Ignore me,” I say, gesturing with a nonchalant hand. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  Desi furrows her brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Promise.” I laugh through my tears. “Lately, I’ve just been crazy emotional.”

  Eventually, I wave them both inside and help them get cozy in the house.

  First, to the guest rooms where they’ll both be sleeping for the next few days.

  And then, into the kitchen so we can gab and chat and just catch up.

  “Have no fear, I have brought the finest bottle of Riesling that Texas has to offer and the one wine you’ll actually drink, Ava. Purchased at a gas station about a mile from your house,” Desi teases as she unscrews the cap off a bottle of wine and begins to pour it into three glasses. “One for me, one for Claire, one for Ava.”

  But when she slides the glass my way, the smell of the alcohol is so repugnant, it makes me gag.

  “Ugh. I think there’s something wrong with this wine,” I say and move the glass away from my face. “Seriously, it smells fucking awful.”

  And then I gag again.

  And again.

  Until the gagging becomes too intense that I have to sprint to the hall bathroom and freaking puke.

  “Do not even take a sip of that wine!” I shout toward the kitchen as I stand up from the toilet and splash cold water on my face. “Just the damn fumes from it made me puke!”

  But when I make my way back into the kitchen, both Desi and Claire are just staring at me.

  “What?” I question. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ava, honey,” Claire begins, “when’s the last time you had your period?”

  “Excuse me?” I ask on a laugh. “That’s a bit of a ridiculous question, don’t you think?”

  “Uh, no.” Desi snorts. “You’re all emotional and weepy and puking, and your boobs look crazy big right now.”

  “That’s because I’ve been eating my feelings.”

  Claire shakes her head. “Honey, I don’t think that’s what’s going on here.”

  “You guys seriously think I’m pregnant?” I retort. “You do realize that Luke has been gone for four freaking months, right? How in the hell would I get pregnant? The immaculate conception?”

  But even the words coming out of my mouth don’t do anything to reassure me.

  And when I start trying to remember when I last had my period…I can’t remember at all. Like, at all.

  “Oh shit,” I mutter. Then my eyes go wide. “Wait, that would be crazy, right? I mean, that would mean I got pregnant the night before Luke left on his mission. Which, like, what are the odds?”

  “How about this?” Desi offers and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go grab some dinner for tonight, and while we’re out, we’ll get a pregnancy test. Just so you can take it and see.”

  All I can do is shrug and nod.

  I mean, the chances of it being positive are probably one in a freaking trillion, but yeah, why not just take the test so I don’t have to wonder?

  Less than twenty-four hours later, I find myself sitting in my gynecologist’s office, my legs in stirrups and a paper gown covering my body while Desi and Claire sit in the chairs against the wall, both of them grinning at me.

  “I’m not pregnant,” I say and roll my eyes.

  “Three pregnancy tests would disagree, my friend,” Desi retorts, and Claire just keeps on smiling.

  Thankfully, three soft knocks rap against the door, and Dr. Marlow walks inside, promptly ending comments from the peanut gallery in the corner of the room.

  “Hi, Ava,” she greets. “It looks like you’re here because you got a positive pregnancy test?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “Though, I would bet money on the fact that it’s wrong.”

  “Okay.” She smiles and slips on a pair of medical gloves the nurse hands to her and sits down on a stool that’s positioned close to the exam table. “You’re just going to feel some pressure,” she says and begins her exam.

  “When was your last period?” she eventually asks, looking up to meet my eyes.

  “I think I had one last month,” I comment, and she tilts her head to the side.

  “You can’t remember?”

  I cringe and shake my head.

  Once she takes off the gloves, she lifts the paper gown away from my belly and palpates my lower stomach with her bare hands.

  “Betty, could you slide the ultrasound machine over?” she instructs the nurse. And a few moments later, she squirts some cold gel on my belly and begins to roll the probe over my skin.

  “Well, Ava,” Dr. Marlow announces with a soft smile. “The test was right. You’re pregnant.”

  “What?” My eyes go wide and turn to the side to look at the screen of the ultrasound.

  “There’s your baby,” she says. “And by my calculations, I’d say you’re around four months along.”

  Four months along? I do the math in my head and instantly know when it happened—our last night together back in June.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Not kidding.” Dr. Marlow shakes her head on a laugh. “Do you hear that?” she questions, and mere seconds later, the whooshing sounds of a heartbeat fill the room. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

  “Holy shit, Ava,” Desi says through a quiet laugh. “You’re literally one of those people. The ones that don’t realize they’re pregnant until the baby’s head is popping out of their vaginas.”

  “Desi!” Claire retorts and reaches out to slap Desi on the arm.

  Normally, their bickering commentary would be entertaining, but right now, I’m a little too shocked to think about anything besides one thing—I’m pregnant.

  Luke is in freaking outer space, won’t be back for another two months, and I just found out we’re going to have a baby.

  Holy hell.

  Well, at least you know why you’ve been so freaking emotional lately…

  Happily Ever After December

  Ava

  I feel like I’ve been waiting an eternity for this day to come.

  I stand in a small crowd of family members. Every single person here is waiting for one of the five astronauts who went on this mission to officially arrive home.

  My heart races in anticipation, and I rub my hand over my small, rounded belly hiding beneath my jacket.

  Any minute, baby, I think to myself. Any minute, your daddy will be here.

  Two months ago, I found out I was pregnant.

  And for the last two months, I’ve wavered on telling
Luke and not telling Luke, and well, needless to say, he doesn’t know yet.

  But now that I’m standing here, definitely pregnant, and waiting for him to arrive, I’m seriously starting to second-guess that decision.

  Maybe I should’ve told him. But all I know is that every time I almost did, it didn’t feel right not to deliver this news in person. To tell him before he was safely back home.

  It’s almost like I took a page out of his book when it took him so long to tell me about his NASA acceptance all those years ago.

  Well, let’s hope his reaction isn’t as insane as yours was back then.

  Internally, I cringe at that thought.

  But my focus quickly changes when I look toward the hangar and see the doors starting to slide open.

  Then I see him—my Luke. My husband is right there, looking so insanely handsome in his NASA uniform and walking toward the group. His eyes search the crowd for me.

  My heart pounds like a kickdrum inside my chest, and before I know it, my feet are quickly walking toward him.

  “Miss! Wait!” a male voice calls behind me, but I ignore it. I know the security guys instructed us to wait right here, but I don’t care.

  It’s been six freaking months since I’ve seen my husband.

  Luke’s eyes lock with mine, and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen consumes his face.

  It only makes my feet move faster.

  I don’t stop walking toward him until I’m wrapping my arms around his neck and letting him lift me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his hips and hug his neck so tight.

  “Ava. My Ava,” he breathes into my ear. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  Tears fall down my cheeks unchecked. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

  But when he goes to hug me tight, something makes him loosen his grip and look down toward my jacket-covered stomach.

  “Ava?” he questions, placing one hand on my stomach, and it’s more than apparent that he can tell there isn’t just a little extra weight beneath my jacket.