“I don’t know!” She’s full out crying now. “I should’ve traveled more. Or experimented more.”
“With fetishes?” I’m so lost. A strand of her dark hair sticks to her wet cheek. “Why can’t we go to the Alamo with kids? Family road trips are as American as apple pie and hamburgers. You, me, the kid, and the open road. We can get a camper. Or a sidecar for a motorcycle.” When I see the horror in her eyes, I backtrack. “Okay, not sidecar.”
“We need to sell the motorcycles.”
Now she’s talking complete nonsense. “Why? It’s not like we’re going to take the kid on the bike.”
“Marijuana is legal and I haven’t even eaten the special cookies. Now if I do, I’ll be the mom that the other mommies whisper about at the PTA meetings.” Her voice quivers again. “We need to be responsible adults.”
Forget tennis, this conversation is a championship ping-pong tournament with Chinese Olympians. I can’t keep up, so I go for humor to add some levity to the crazy. “I’ve been called the other A word a lot in my life, but I think I’m more insulted now.”
“Adorable?” she asks.
“Asshole.”
“That too.”
“By you. More than once.”
“Also true,” she agrees. “Because you were.”
“Past tense?”
“For the most part, yes.”
“Hmm,” I hum against her warm, smooth skin.
“Tom?” Her voice is breathy, encouraging me.
“Mmm?” I open my mouth to place a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist.
“Unf.”
“You had a question?” Lifting my eyes, I meet hers before kissing the same spot again.
She exhales slowly through her mouth. Kind of like we learned at baby class. “I forgot it.”
“I love you.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“You better. I never want you to doubt it.”
“I don’t. Not ever.” Her green eyes fill with more tears. “I’m so lucky you’re my husband.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
“Can we have sex now?” she whispers.
“No holiday stroll?” I don’t hide my joy at the idea of skipping the whole event.
“We can do both.”
She looks so happy, I can’t deny her.
We slowly peel off each other’s clothes, dropping them to the floor. Even with a fire in the wood stove, the air chills our skin until I pull the throw over us. She straddles me again, and I let her take charge as I stare up at her in wonder.
“How did I get so lucky,” I say, holding her hands and bringing them to my mouth. Softly, I press open mouth kisses to her wrists.
“Because you’re getting laid?” Rolling her hips, she smiles down at me.
“No, because I have you as my wife.” I release her hands and pinch her butt. “To have and to hold as long as we both shall live.”
Lifting up, she lets me slip out of her all the way to the tip before she slides down to the base. Swallowed up by her wet velvet warmth, I thrust up into her, seeking more.
“What happened to honor and obey?” she asks with a smirk.
“Honor always, but we left out the obey from our vows for a reason. Nameless is the only one around here who should obey anyone.” We’re having sex and chatting. I need to up my game if she can still think in complete sentences.
“Less talking, more moaning.” I gently cup her breasts, enjoying the feeling of their fullness. She encourages me by pressing her palms over my hands, and I squeeze. With my thumb and forefinger, I not so gently pinch her nipple. When her eyelids flutter closed and her full lips part, I lower one hand to where we’re joined.
This earns me the moan I’ve been seeking. I live for making her happy. Giving her pleasure is easy. Almost as easy as loving her. She’s my world and I can’t imagine loving her more than I already do. But every time I think that, I’m proven wrong. When I fell in love with her, when I proposed, when she walked down the aisle in her simple white dress, when we saw the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, when she let me feel the baby kick for the first time, I thought my heart would explode with love for her because how could I love her more? Yet I do.
“I’m so close,” she murmurs as she increases her pace, grinding her hips against mine and rubbing her clit on my pelvic bone.
This is my favorite moment. Watching and feeling her come apart because of me.
“I love you,” I say, trying not to come until she peaks.
“I know. So much.” She shatters above me, rocking her hips and pressing my hand over her heart.
The love in her eyes, the thump of her heart under my palm break my hold on my own orgasm.
She slumps over me, resting her forehead against mine. “I’m going to miss this.”
“We don’t have to become those parents who never have sex.” Lowering my voice and drawing soothing circles on her back, I reassure her.
“I meant over the sex draught post-partum.” My hair muffles her voice until she lifts her head. “We need to have all the sex in the next two weeks.”
“I say we ditch the Sip n’ Stroll and spend the rest of the night naked. We have leftover pizza and there’s ice cream in the freezer—at least four different kinds.”
“Three. I finished the mint chip while waiting for the pizza.” She lifts her head, biting her lip.
Pressing my thumb against her mouth, I free her lip. “Then we better get more.”
“We can stop on the way home from Langley.” She shifts off of me and I immediately feel the cold air replace her warmth. “First we need to shower.”
I lift my eyebrows and curl my mouth into a wolfish grin. “Round two?”
“We’ll be late.” She laughs, trying to bend over to pick up her sweater.
“Leave them.” Standing, I scoop up our discarded clothes. “No one will notice if we’re late. And if they ask, we tell them the truth. Especially if Connie or Sandy are doing the asking.”
“No. No way. Those women have vivid imaginations. I don’t need them picturing me naked, too.” She dips her chin to make her meaning clear.
“Fine.” I follow her up the stairs. With a pinch to her heart-shaped ass, I tease her, “Strangers at the hospital will see you in all your glory.”
She stops abruptly and I bump into her back.
“Sweetheart?” I tap her shoulder.
“Is it too late to buy a kiddie pool?” she asks, her voice quiet.
“Yes. It’s the middle of December.”
“Home birth?”
“The nurses at Whidbey General have seen more vaginas than …”
Me.
“Than Leonard DiCaprio?” She gives me an out from the hole I was about to dig myself.
“Yes, that guy.” I kiss the skin in the middle of her back.
Glancing over her shoulder, she reaches behind her for my hand. I entwine my fingers with hers before we continue up the stairs.
At the top, she turns and wraps her arms around me. Or as far as her belly will allow.
“Tom, your past doesn’t matter to me as long as I’m your present.”
“And my future.” I place a soft kiss on one corner of her mouth. “And my forever.” I kiss the other corner. Beneath my lips, I feel her smile curl and spread.
“Deal.” She inhales sharply and frowns. “That was weird.”
My eyes seek hers as my hands immediately go to her belly. “What’s wrong?”
“Mmm.” She breathes in through her nose. “Not sure. Probably nothing. Just a weird pinchy feeling. Maybe your giant penis bruised my cervix.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but we’ve had a lot of sex over the years, and you’ve never had pain after intercourse before.”
“It was probably the angle. No big deal.”
I eye her as we shower, watching for a sign she’s feeling pain.
“Could it be Braxton Hicks contractions?” I ask as we dry off.
She
furrows her brow as she considers the possibility. “I don’t think so.”
“Tell me if it comes back. We’ll drive up to the hospital in Coupeville.”
“I don’t want to spend the evening at the ER for nothing. We’ll miss all the fun.” She walks out of the bathroom naked.
I’d still rather spend the night in bed with her, but I follow behind her to get dressed.
CHAPTER NINE
Against my better judgment about good life choices, we return to Langley for the holiday stroll.
After parking, we meet up with John and Diane in her Pilates studio.
“You’re late,” John says. His dark eyes take in my wet hair and I swear he knows exactly why we’re late.
Ignoring him, I give Diane a half hug. Her baby beach ball is even bigger than Hailey’s.
“Are you still teaching?” I ask her.
John scowls, which makes me laugh. It probably makes me a bad friend to take joy from his discomfort, but I can’t help it. This is the role I play. I’m the court jester to his brooding prince.
“I’ll take Mr. Grumpy’s face as a yes,” I say to Diane.
“Doctor says it could help speed things up. My due date was two days ago and nothing’s happening down there yet. The baby’s dropped, but I’m barely dilated. If I don’t go into labor soon, they’ll induce next week.”
From the birthing class I know all too much about what she means. I’m thinking Olaf’s right about keeping some things a mystery. Like mucus plugs, blood, and poop.
While Hailey and Diane share details about their last doctors’ appointments, John and I stand in comfortable silence. Once again I’m reminded of the joy of being around my best friend, who never needs to fill a gap in conversation with words. I have a feeling quiet is going to be in short supply soon.
“Ready?” Hailey asks us, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“As ever,” I answer her. “Where’s Alene? Isn’t this whole night for the kiddies?”
“She’s with my aunt. Doing the hand-off on the corner.” John helps Diane with her blanket wrap. Like Hailey, there’s no way she could button anything over the belly. Honestly, it’s impressive how big they’ve gotten. Like Violet Beauregard in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Only not blue. Or a couple of those middle-aged men with the giant guts and skinny legs. Only sexy. And less hairy. For the most part.
Last week I shaved Hailey’s legs for her. I figured it would be the same as shaving my face, but it wasn’t. Like most things with women, it was more complicated. However, toilet paper is good for leg cuts, too. Another life lesson learned.
Bodies are weird. Over the last few months, I know I’ve put on a few pounds. I run a hand down my own abs, thankful they’re still there. No dad bod for me yet. Sneaking a glance at John, I try to tell if he’s growing a man gut, but his thick red and black plaid jacket makes it hard to tell what’s him and what’s artificial padding.
Dan’s older than us and doesn’t have a dad bod. This gives me hope that it’s not an automatic given.
“What are you thinking about?” Hailey tucks her gloved hand in mine.
“Dad bods.”
“Is that why you’re eyeing your best friend like he’s smuggling something under his coat?” Her voice is quiet, and filled with amusement.
“A lot of men gain weight with pregnancy.” I scratch the back of my head, embarrassed to admit I’m thinking about my own body while she’s the one growing a human.
“You’re still hot.” She releases my hand and pinches my ass. I notice she doesn’t try to lie about my weight gain.
“And you’re legally obligated to think so.” Recapturing her fingers, I entwine them with mine.
“I know.” She arches up, silently asking me to lean over so she can give me a kiss.
Instead of giving her my cheek, I turn at the last second and capture her lips. Halting our steps, I envelop her in my arms and deepen the kiss, slipping my tongue between her parted lips. She softly moans, wrapping her arms around my neck. The baby means I can’t crush her to me like I want, but we still manage to earn a “get a room” from some random on the other side of the street.
“If you two end up in the police report again this year for public shenanigans, I’m disowning you.” John laughs at us.
Giving Hailey one more quick, soft peck, I release her. Laughing, I ask, “Shenanigans?”
“There are kids around.” John shrugs.
“For the record, in case anyone was wondering, we didn’t actually consummate at the Inn last year. Imagine what a great story that’d be if we conceived that night?” Holding up my palm, I wait for a high five from my wife.
Hailey groans and hides her face behind her red gloves.
“Come on, I’m teasing.” I peel her fingers away, grinning when she opens her eyes again. “Love you.”
She shakes her head. “I know.”
A crowd of people block the sidewalk ahead of us, watching something in the street.
“Oh, no. Is it the carolers?” My voice is full of dread.
“I don’t hear any singing.” Hailey lifts up on her toes to see over the crowd.
“Do I hear tambourines?” Diane asks.
I listen more closely, tempted to shush the people in front of us. “Is it Santa?” I ask, forcing enthusiasm into the question. “Is he here?”
“You sound like Will Farrell in Elf,” John says with less excitement.
“Let’s not get carried away with the insults,” I tell him.
“It’s Olaf!” Diane and Hailey exclaim simultaneously.
“What’s he doing out here? Who’s watching the bar?” Curious, I force my way to the front of the group.
I’m greeted with a sight so strange and amazing, my jaw drops in awe.
Not one Olaf, not our favorite cranky bartender, but a group of Olafs. Grown-ups in snowman onesies stroll down the middle of the street, bumbling into each other and acting like idiots in an impromptu parade.
“Is that Carter?” John points to the middle of the group where a tall blond guy does a little jig.
“I think the other blond Olaf kissing the shorter Olaf is Erik, so that’s probably Cari.” Diane draws our attention to the couple kissing. I recognize Cari’s dark hair poking out from her hood.
“Get a room. This is a family event,” I yell, and they jump apart, much to my amusement.
“They’re definitely getting banned this year.” John’s composure breaks as he cracks up in a big belly laugh.
The Olafs wave and toss candy to the kids in the crowd as they pass us.
A flash of red hair catches my eye. Ashley Kingston and I have a long history. Not as long as she and Carter, though. Their happiness shines as bright as their new wedding bands in the holiday lights. Guess she’s a Kelso now. Our chapter is over, and I’m happy for them. We all deserve happiness.
Spotting us, Erik comes bounding over, waving his fake stick arms and grinning like a fool. “Happy Holidays!”
He executes a slow spin, showing off his onesie. “You like it?”
“You better stay away from the Dog tonight,” John warns.
“Eh, Olaf’s going to get a kick out of it. It’s in homage to him.” Erik even sounds like he believes his own bullshit.
“We’re totally getting banned,” Cari says as she joins our little group. “YOLO and all that. Plus, these things are super cozy.”
“I can’t believe how warm they are,” Ashley echoes her. “Hi, Tom. Hi, Hailey.”
We all say hello. No reason not to be friendly. The island’s a small place with a long memory, but we don’t have to get stuck being the people we once were. Plus, it’s the holidays.
“Feel how soft this is,” Cari encourages Hailey to pet her fuzzy arm.
Great. The last thing I need is my wife dressing up as a snowman. Or a pregnant snow woman. We can leave the costumes for Halloween.
“You already have your kangaroo onesie,” I remind her.
“It does
n’t fit anymore. I can’t believe how big I got in the past six weeks.” Her hand rests on her belly.
“You’re huge,” Erik blurts out. “Both of you.”
“Smooth, bro. Real smooth,” Carter chides him.
“Sorry. I swear you’ve gotten bigger since last time I saw you,” Erik explains. Or tries to.
“Yeah, that happens when you’re growing a baby. It’s the miracle of life,” John adds, sarcastically.
He’s on fire tonight and I mentally high five him.
“Or an alien parasite that will gnaw its way out of your abdomen.” Erik doesn’t know when to stop.
Ashley groans. “Okay, Halloween’s over. No one needs the visual. I’m just getting over the stomach flu.”
Everyone takes a step away from her.
Now that I study her more closely, Ashley’s skin does have a slightly green cast to it. It’s a festive combination with her red hair.
“Ha ha. I’m not contagious. If I were, Carter would be sick, too.”
He gives her a sympathetic half-smile. “Still think you got a bad taco from that random truck in Seattle.”
“It was worth it.” She pulls her hood off and fluffs her hair. Sweat dampens her hairline. “Jonah goes there all the time and he’s always been fine.”
“I miss tacos,” Diane says with a resigned sigh. “Can’t do spicy food with this baby.”
“Me too,” Hailey agrees. “The acid reflux ruins all my fun.”
I think back to today’s snack and afternoon sex with a chuckle.
“Okay, maybe not all my fun. Did I see the donut truck was going to be here?” She glances around the street. “Anyone else want some?”
“None for me.” Ashley frowns and then sticks out her tongue. “I’m sticking with ginger ale and crackers tonight.”
“Maybe you should go home,” Diane says, concerned.
“I can rally. Worth it to see Olaf’s face.” Ashley gives us a thumb’s up.
“Let’s do this.” Erik waves his brown stick arms over his head as he jogs away. His brother joins him while Cari and Ashley trail behind.
“I’m not walking in with them,” John tells me. “They can sink their own ship, but I’m not going down with them.”
Very Merry Wingmen Holiday Collection Page 12