by K. C. Enders
“My parents are here, Tripp’s parents. Jake and I are covered, really. And, God, all I want to do is go home and crawl into bed. I want to close my eyes and pretend for just one more day that he’s going to be there when I wake up. That Jake’ll have just one more day with his dad.”
My molars grind against each other; the muscles in my jaw clench and tighten. It actually feels like every muscle in my body is contracted, locked down, and ready to explode. “I know. I will. I’ll take care of things. But I need to see things through with this. Get you and Jake settled, make sure you’re squared away.”
“Okay,” Chloe concedes. “But then I’m kicking your ass out, Jack.”
Shaking my head, I allow the corners of my mouth to lift into the briefest of smiles because, damn, after all the time they’ve been married, Tripp is alive in Chloe. “You sound just like him.”
***
TRUE TO HER WORD, Chloe granted me the honor of escorting her and her family home. Seeing that they had everything they needed.
And then she pushed me out the door. “You promised. Just go take care of your own business.”
On the way back to my hotel—the same damn one down to the motherfucking room that I stayed in last time I was here—I stop by the Irish pub. Honestly, I’m shocked to see the blonde chick who was with Kate earlier behind the bar. The redhead sitting across from her turns to face me, my beret clasped between my hands.
“Is Kate … shit.”
The looks from these two are enough to stop me in my tracks. I don’t know why I thought for even a minute that Kate wouldn’t have told her best friends about how I handled the news.
“Sorry. I’m Jack. We’ve not had the pleasure of meeting yet.” I offer my hand, fully expecting to be blown off.
The blonde glares, scrubbing at the pristine bartop in front of her. “Because you were too busy fucking our friend last time you were in port,” she spits the words like daggers.
“For the love of God, Gracyn, you don’t have to be such an ass.” The redhead shakes my hand, offering, “I’m Lis. It’s good to meet you.”
“Is it though? Really?” the blonde mutters.
“And this is Gracyn, but she seems to be struggling with manners today.” Lis pops a side-eye at Gracyn, the former roommate.
And then, with a blink and a sigh, her demeanor changes, throwing me into a different kind of discomfort. “I’m so sorry for your loss. How’s his family doing? Kate loves that little boy.”
Emotions reach up, clawing at my throat, and I have to swallow them down to speak. “Thank you. They’re doing as well as can be expected. Family is with them right now, and the team”—I clear my throat because the team will never be the same without Tripp—“will look out for Chloe and Jake.”
“And you?” Gracyn asks.
“They’re family. That won’t ever change.”
“What about your other family? What about your responsibilities to Kate and those babies? What about them?” She pulls a bottle of Patrón from the top shelf behind the bar and pours herself a healthy glass, two fingers easy. Maybe three.
Sliding a twenty across the bar, I nod at the tequila, and after a contemplative sip, she concedes, pouring a splash for me and then topping off her own.
“I appreciate your concern”—I lift my glass to this fierce friend—“but I believe that’s between Kate and me.” I swallow a paltry amount of tequila and set the glass back on the bar. “Is she at home?”
Lis doesn’t have half the attitude that Gracyn is sporting and nods. “She is. Today took a lot out of her, I think.”
“Thank you. Is there anything you can think of that she needs? I’m happy to stop on the way.”
Silently, Lis shakes her head. And, with a final nod, I turn, the crisp click of my dress shoes matching the beat of my heart as I cross to the door.
“Why’d you come here first?” Gracyn’s question pulls me to a stop.
I wondered which one of the women would ask, if they would ask.
“Because you’re important to Kate. You’ve been here for her while I wasn’t, and I owe you an introduction and my heartfelt thanks.” Pushing out the door, I put my beret on, arranging the flash above my left eye, and hope that answer was enough.
***
THREE SHARP RAPS ON her door get me nothing. Three more and a small bit of patience get me some slow shuffling and a call to hang on. When the door finally opens, something deep in my chest cracks wide open. Gone is the black dress from earlier in the day, the swaths of fabric that wrapped her up, accentuating her curves. Now, a T-shirt I haven’t seen since our weekend in the mountains strains across her belly and pale gray pajama pants end just below her knees. Eyes puffy with tears.
And she has never looked more beautiful.
“What do you want, Jack?” Kate shifts her weight, one hand supporting our boys, the other pushing at her lower back. Light from the late afternoon sun glows through her hair. Beautiful. She shifts again and huffs a lock of hair out of her face.
“I came to apologize. Talk to you and figure this out, I guess. Can I come in?”
Beautiful, yes, but the way she’s shifting her weight and pushing at her back, she’s got to be massively uncomfortable.
Kate steps back into her apartment, waves toward the couch, and continues down the hall. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
When she lowers herself down onto the gray velvet cushions several minutes later, she says, “Sorry, one of them was tap-dancin’ on my bladder. And I should have offered you somethin’ to drink before I sat down.”
“Stop,” I say, holding my hand out at her. “Let me. What do you need?”
“Water would be great. Help yourself to whatever you want. I think there’s a beer in the fridge—maybe. The good stuff is in the cabinet above.”
I sift through the cabinets, finding what I need and, sweet mother of God, there’s a half-full bottle of Casamigos Blanco in her liquor cabinet. I grab the bottle, tucking it under my arm, while balancing Kate’s water and a glass of ice in my hand.
“You mind if I grab the bag of chips?”
“Have at it. Salsa’s in the fridge.”
I settle everything on the coffee table, handing Kate her water and splashing tequila into my glass. “Mind if I take off my jacket? I’ve, uh … it’d be nice to relax a little.” I push the polished brass buttons through, releasing the form-fitting jacket.
She waves her hand at me, tearing into the bag of tortilla chips instead. “Oh-ma-Gawd,” she moans around a mouthful of chips.
I missed that moan. Although last time I heard it was under much different circumstances. The first time I’d heard it was evidently what got us here.
Kate rocks, pushing herself forward, reaching for the salsa.
“Here.” I pop the top and hand the jar to her. “Do you need something more? Have you eaten today?”
“Jack, I eat constantly. All the time. These boys are already wreaking havoc.” Kate snorts, dripping salsa on her shirt. My shirt. “Damn it. Every single time.” She swipes at the dab of tomato resting on the swell of her breast. “So, what did you want to say? Thought you were crystal clear when you stormed out of my classroom, and that’s fine. Really.”
“It’s not. Jesus, Kate, I was surprised. This past week—losing Tripp, finding out about this.” I nod at her.
A corner of a chip tumbles from her lips, coming to rest on top of her belly. The chip moves, lifting and then settling again. Moved by what? One of our kids?
“Why didn’t you contact me? Tell me you were—”
“How would you have had me do that? Send a text that you’d get at some point when you landed? Last text I sent was that we were in the clear, and you hardly responded to that. Thought you’d have been all kinds of receptive, gettin’ an oops, guess I was wrong ’bout that text. Or should I have gone to my student’s mother and asked her to let you know I was knocked up? That woulda been real professional. And did they, either of
them, even know we were—”
“Tripp figured it out. That we were seeing each other, but he never said anything about …” I wave at the big bump between us, a lump pushing out at an odd angle. “What is that?” I ask.
Kate reaches for my hand, placing it over the hard alien lump. Pushing against it. “A butt probably. Maybe a head. I don’t really know.”
The baby rolls, shifting away from the pressure, shoving his brother, so a different ass or body part rolls down the other side of Kate’s belly.
“This happen all the time?” I ask, enthralled by the wrestling match taking place.
Laughing, Kate nods. “All the damn time. You have no idea. If they’re not fighting each other, they’re beating on me.” She splays her hands, running them in lazy circles over her abdomen, humming softly, and her belly—our babies seem to relax before my eyes.
“Jesus, you’re amazing.” The words leave me on a reverent hush.
Chapter 30
Kate
THE JACK SITTING IN my apartment is not the same one who walked out of my classroom days ago. The one who spit condescension and judgment at me as he stonily walked away. This one is much more like the Jack I spent a month wrapped up in, falling for.
“You’re right; it would have been awkward, putting Chloe in the middle of things. I just wish I had known.” He runs his hand down his face, his scruffy beard no longer there.
He looks so different with his face smooth, hair cropped short, and in that uniform. Even half-undone, his jacket and tie neatly folded over the back of a chair, his bearing is entirely something else. Familiar and, at the same time, new.
“I wrote to you,” I softly tell him. “Made sure to tell you every little thing—doctor’s appointments, when I first felt them move. All of it. God, I have pictures from the sonograms. Let me—”
“Stop, Kate.” He stops my struggle to stand once again. “You need something, just tell me where it is. I’m here now.”
He pushes himself off the couch with so much grace and ease, not like the lumbering whale I’ve become, having to roll to the side and heave myself up. There is nothing graceful or attractive about that. Nothing at all.
“I have to get up anyway.”
But, instead of having to struggle up on my own, Jack is there. A strong hand, a firm grip. Someone to steady me as I make it to my feet. I hurry down the hall as fast as I can manage. I grab my journal, not sure that I can make it back to the living room with it before I have to pee, but Jack’s right there. Silently filling my room.
“Here, I have to pee.” I push past him to the bathroom, thrusting the journal into his hands, careful not to let the pictures flutter out.
“Not sure whether to laugh or—”
“Probably not the best idea right now. No one likes the guy who makes fun of the fat kid,” I call through the door.
Instead of an empty room, I walk out of the bathroom to find Jack propped up against my headboard, sifting through grainy black-and-white pictures, his jaw working tightly. Fingers dancing over the images of our babies. Watching him process in mere moments all that I’ve had months to wrap my head around is sobering. I have no idea what those months of his life held. The things he did, the decisions he had to make, the lives he saw come and go.
But I do know what he came home to.
Jack tilts his head, his eyes drifting from the pictures clutched in his hand, the most recent ones, showing our babies’ profiles, to where they’re pushing on each other, fighting for space inside me. “They’re really real, aren’t they?” His gaze meets mine, eyes wide.
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “There’s no pretending going on here. Contrary to popular opinion, I did not go on a binge and just get super huge for kicks.”
He jerks his head, looking totally offended. “Who said that?”
I pull my salsa-stained T-shirt over my head, my camisole underneath hiding next to nothing. “No one. Just feels that way sometimes. Not as much now. I mean, I’m for sure knocked up, but … I don’t know.”
He leans forward, scanning me from head to toe, eyes lingering on my boobs, my belly. Just as he opens his mouth to say something overly nice, I’m sure, his phone chirps with an incoming call. Checking the screen, he nods briefly. “I have to take this. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all good. Stay here. I’ll go pee. Again.”
Jack finishes his phone call, his voice the only indication that he’s moving through my apartment. “Are you okay?” he asks, stepping into the kitchen, his warm hand heavy on my back.
“Lower. Put your hand lower on my back. God, yes, right there.” I manage to barely suppress a moan at the relief his hand gives me as I sway my hips from side to side, elbows resting on the kitchen island.
Jack makes a strangled noise deep in his throat.
“Sorry. I’m sure this is a sight, but there’re times when leaning on the counter like this is the only thing that feels good. It’s like all the pressure is off my organs for a hot minute.”
I straighten my legs and push back, looking to deepen the stretch in my hips, but what I find is Jack. His free hand shoots to my hip, fingers digging in, holding me against him. My body lights up at the feel of him hard behind me.
“You have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he rasps, his hard cock trapped between us.
He leans over me, chest to my back, and presses his lips to the back of my neck. It tingles down my spine. I push back into him again, rubbing my ass against his length.
Maybe it’s just the hormonal hornies, but pent-up desire ignites as his hands roam and caress. Sliding up my sides, over my belly. Cupping my swollen breasts. The way he touches me is reverent, like he’s worshipping the changes in my body.
“Mercy,” he huffs, lips trailing electric kisses along down my spine, hips grinding into me. “Tell me you want this, Kate. God, tell me this is okay.”
“Please …” I gasp, my mind clouded with the need to feel more. To connect with Jack, to feel him in me, around me. With me. “I don’t know how … logistics …” I start nervously.
Teeth sink into my hip as Jack steps away, his belt clattering open. The hiss of his zipper.
His wallet hits the counter beside me, and he fumbles it open, searching for a condom but coming up empty. Kind of a moot point at this stage anyway, but maybe he’s had opportunities that I haven’t. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.
“Fuck.” His head falls, forehead on my back as he dips his hand down the front of my jammie pants. “I swear, Kate, I haven’t been with anyone since you, but”—his finger strums my clit, circling maddeningly—“I can still take care of you.”
Moaning as he thrusts one thick finger and then two into my pussy, I rock shamelessly against him. “Mmm-mmm. I need you, Jack. Please,” I gasp. “Need you.”
Shoving my PJs and panties to the floor, Jack frees his cock, and achingly slow, he fills me. Almost immediately, my legs start to tremble.
“God, yes,” he grunts, thrusting gently, hitting that spot, the one that makes my eyes roll back and all my inner muscles clench.
Pleasure rolls through me, exploding in delicious waves. Jack stills, breathing hard, and pulls away, hissing as his hard cock leaves my still-pulsing vag.
“Why did you stop?” I stand and face him.
“I didn’t want to hurt them.” He makes a sad attempt at stuffing his dick away, pain and determination written across his face.
Using my toes, I fling my panties and PJs up into my hand and shove Jack out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. “Nope. You’re big, but that’s not a thing. You’re not poking anyone in the eye, not causing brain damage, none of that. If you changed your mind and don’t want to do this”—I drop my gaze to his groin—“just say so. But we both know you’re lying.”
Lord, I hope he’s lying. I can’t say that, at this stage of pregnancy, I feel all that attractive, just bloated and huge, more like a sumo wrestler than anything. But Jack’s caressing hands wandering over my body, fe
eling what I thought was his genuine excitement, made me feel sexy for the first time in months. The other moms in my prenatal yoga class all talk about how their husbands make them feel amazing and confident, sexy and beautiful. Today with Jack is the first time I’ve come close to feeling anything like that.
And I want more. Even if it’s just for as long as he’s here. Again.
But why would he want me like this? We’re nothing more than two people who broke a condom. Spectacularly.
“Wait, why are you walking away from me?” Jack asks. “Are you crying? Did I hurt you?” He clutches my face between his palms, thumbs swiping at the tears under my eyes.
I shake my head, feeling overwhelmingly stupid. Hating that, once again, I can’t seem to control my tears.
“Kate, talk to me.”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Jack chuckles softly and kisses me slowly. Thoroughly, deeply. “Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional. That’s what fine stands for. What’re you thinking about?”
“This hasn’t been easy for me. Everyone I know who’s pregnant has support, all kinds of support. Gracyn and Lis have been tremendously helpful, but this is … it’s hard. The small hint just now of what it would be like to have a partner in this. To not be alone. To feel like I’m still a person, a woman, and not just a breeding factory. Because it’s hard to feel attractive for a minute, let alone sexy. And I felt that out there.”
I have lost my damn mind. I know it with every fiber of my being. Words are tumbling from my mouth, emotional vomit spewing across the room, thrown at the nearest target. “I shouldn’t fuss. Thank you. That connection, however brief, is what I needed. Or maybe it was the orgasm that I needed, but really, I’ll be okay, and you’ve been more than gracious. You don’t need to feel pressured into doing that again or anything.”