Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Ivy League, huh?” Abigail skeptically questions.

  Supporting Abigail’s apprehension, I remind her, “You are aware Trey’s sperm is half the creator of said children, right?”

  Victoria heaves a sigh. “Let’s hope they all inherit my brains.” She grimaces.

  “Let’s hope,” Abigail and I say in unison, making us all laugh.

  VICTORIA

  Walking into the room Trey had chosen as ours, I check on our son in his Pack ‘n Play. Turning, my eyes find the center of the room, bringing me to a jolting halt.

  “You were serious about the waterbed?” I ask my husband, appalled.

  “What part of calling dibs did you not believe?”

  Both furious and disappointed with Trey, I say, “If you think I’m sleeping on that thing—” I point to the bag full of water in the middle of a wooden frame “—you are crazy!”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to get all prissy over a waterbed? Come on, Victoria, I thought you’d changed your ways.”

  Releasing a growl, I head straight for the bed to grab a pillow, pulling the comforter along with it. Spinning on my heel, I find Trey alarmingly blinking at me, as if I’ve lost my mind.

  “What are you doing?”

  Furious with him, I huff, “Prissy has nothing to do with me sleeping on this bed. It’s the fact that it moves,” before stomping to the door, adding on my way, “You’re on baby duty tonight.”

  There is no way I’d be able to endure sleeping on the bed. I’d most likely end up emptying the contents of my stomach from the constant swaying of the water-filled mattress.

  Trey appears taken aback as I march past him to leave the room. He doesn’t even bother following me. He’s probably chalking off my little protest as another one of my “princess” tantrums, as he likes to label them.

  Heading straight for the couch in the den, I toss myself onto it. Punching the pillow, pretending it were someone in particular, my head lands on it with a huff. Thankfully, I’m too exhausted to care how uncomfortable the couch feels. At this point, I would have slept on the floor in the room, but I won’t risk being in the same room as Trey from fear of eventually strangling him.

  As my mind slowly surrenders to sleep, I begin to hear a scratching noise. My eyes frantically snap open, wondering if Trey has changed his mind and come for me.

  “Trey?” I loudly whisper.

  I receive no response.

  Shaking off the illusion, I tell myself I’m imagining things and close my eyes, forcing myself to relax. Seconds later, I hear the noise again. It’s coming from the kitchen, which is the next room over. Holding my breath, I pray it’s nothing more than someone seeking a midnight snack. However, the scratching against the floor is the sound of someone’s footsteps, and it sounds as if it’s coming toward my direction. I’m unable to remain calm any longer as I release a scream. The sound of Trey’s heavy footsteps allows me to take a proper breath and my heart to function at a somewhat normal pace.

  “What’s wrong?” he confusedly questions with a mix of worry and annoyance.

  “I heard a sound,” I frantically answer, hoping he can hear it, too.

  “Are you going cray cray on me, Princess?”

  “You’ve been hanging around your players too long,” I snap back. “I swear I heard something in there,” I whisper, pointing at the kitchen.

  We both remain silent and I hear it again. “There, did you hear that?”

  “I didn’t hear shit,” Trey irritably announces.

  “Shhh!” I state, already standing, ready to flee. Trey’s hand clamps down on my arm to keep me in place.

  “Don’t shush me,” he argues.

  He hates it when I do that to him. However, now is not the time to have a spat over dominance.

  “Go see what it is,” I order, shoving him in the direction of the kitchen. His large frame doesn’t move an inch, and with the faint glow from outdoors, I watch as his nose scrunches up.

  “You expect me to go searching for something that isn’t there?”

  “Seriously, Trey?”

  “Seriously, Princess?” he sarcastically mimics.

  I’m ready to smack him upside his head like his momma has taught me to do, but my hand comes straight to my mouth when Julio shouts, “Freeze!”

  My heart has come to a stop as I stare at the end of the barrel of his gun. I’m grateful I went to the bathroom before heading to bed or else I would have soiled myself.

  “Put your damn gun away, man,” Trey commands.

  Lowering his gun, Julio explains himself. “I heard shouting.”

  “Victoria has gone nuts and thinks she’s hearing shit.”

  “I did hear something,” I argue.

  The moment I say the words in my defense, an object crashes in the kitchen, and Julio doesn’t hesitate to raise his gun once more to head in its direction. Trey closely follows, remaining a few feet behind him for protection.

  The doors on the second floor have opened and inquiring bodies begin to appear. Another crashing sound is heard and Trey’s familiar “What the fuck!” is bellowed from the kitchen.

  Matt and David come racing down the stairs as Julio warns, “Move out of the way so I can shoot it.” My eyes grow wide. “It’s moving too damn fast for me to shoot it!” Julio warns.

  “You can’t fire a gun in the house!” David hollers at Julio, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen with Matt right behind him.

  “It’s Victoria’s damn cat!” Trey yells, and I swear my heart drops.

  “Please don’t kill him!” Rushing to the kitchen, I push David and Matt out of my way.

  The sound of crashing and banging is heard as I enter, looking to the floor in search of my cat.

  “Where is he?” I ask Trey. “Mr. Whiskers,” I coo, hoping he’ll reveal himself, but my calls are pointless because my cat was recently diagnosed as deaf.

  His old age has finally caught up to him, and his hearing was the first to go. Lowering myself to my hands and knees to look under the table, the glow of two orbs stare back at me, and they’re not those of my cat. “It’s not Mr. Whiskers!” I wail, running back in the direction I had come from.

  I don’t even bother waiting to see if anyone is following me, but from the sounds of the footsteps close behind me, someone is.

  “Close the door!” Matt shouts, closely followed by Julio informing him, “There isn’t a door.”

  “Fuck!” David shouts.

  “I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t my cat,” I say to no one in particular.

  The shouting has woken Madden, and he’s already wailing for attention. Rushing to the room, I scoop him up in my arms before returning to the living room to see Matt holding a decorative shield that was once above the fireplace. David somehow found a tennis racket somewhere. Julio is still holding his gun, but it’s now pointed at the floor and ready to shoot. Trey is fiercely holding a throw pillow.

  A damn pillow!

  I was unaware I’d spoken out loud until Trey pierces me with a glare. “You’ve nearly knocked me out plenty of times with a fucking pillow!”

  This is true. My husband does have a way with words that requires me to knock him with a pillow on occasion.

  All four men are on high alert as they slowly take their steps, waiting for the intruder to make its appearance. Emily notifies them of what Trey had thought he’d seen. “Kitty!” she shouts, pointing her little finger at the center of the living area.

  “It’s a damn coon!” David shouts.

  “I told you it wasn’t Mr. Whiskers!”

  “They look the same,” Trey argues.

  Not a second later, the animal jumps onto the couch, frozen in place as it contemplates what to do next. Julio lifts his gun, pointing it straight at the animal, when his mother, Lupe, lectures, “Julio, don’t you dare shoot that gun in the house with the children!”

  He pouts, but reluctantly lowers his weapon as the creature runs across the room, str
aight for me, Trey in tow. My legs have never moved faster as I race toward the stairs and begin to ascend them with my son tightly embraced in my arms. All the while, I hear Trey shouting from the room, “No, dude!” followed by what sounds like a spray of water. Seconds later, Trey screams like a banshee as he comes racing out of the room with the rodent on his heels.

  He passes Matt on the way, who has his weapon over his head, ready to bring it down on the animal.

  Abigail shrieks from the second floor, “Don’t kill it!”

  “Beautiful, those things have rabies,” Matt clarifies with a murderous gleam in his eyes.

  “I don’t care what it has. It’s still a living creature.”

  “Kitty!” Emily claps out, making me look downward, searching to see where it is.

  “It’s near you, Trey,” I warn, causing him to peer to his side.

  I would have never thought the man I married could squeal as loud as a girl before he jumps and rushes over to where Julio stands, pulling the large man in front of him to use as a shield.

  “Shoot it,” he shrieks at Julio.

  “Don’t you dare, Julio,” Lupe scolds.

  The animal jumps up onto a side table, giving David the perfect opportunity to swing his racket, hitting the table lamp instead. The object crashes onto the floor as the raccoon keeps making a run for it. Matt has ignored his wife’s command and is now bringing his shield down, missing the animal with every try. Julio may have heeded his mother’s command of not shooting his gun, but it hasn’t stopped him from keeping it pointed at the black and gray fur ball making circles around the room.

  “Open the door and we’ll force it out,” David orders Matt.

  Matt races to open the door as the raccoon bravely begins chasing after David, making him run towards Matt. Instead of exiting the cabin, it chases Matt and David toward Trey and Julio’s direction, and now all four of them are running in circles with an animal on their heels.

  Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed four grown men would be running in fear from a small animal. As I’m shaking my head in disappointment, Mr. Whiskers goes racing past me, down the stairs, straight for the raccoon, hissing the entire time. The raccoon has met his match and rotates in the opposite direction, straight for the door, my cat a foot behind.

  Mr. Whiskers comes to halt at the door, spinning on his paws to prance his way into the kitchen as if what he’s just accomplished had never occurred.

  “You’re getting a week’s worth of tuna, old man,” Trey cheers with a fist pump, still holding a pillow in one arm.

  I don’t know whether to laugh or gawk. Either way, I agree as I strive to bring my erratic heart under control as I descend the stairs. Trey is already making his way to our chosen bedroom, myself just steps behind him, to find a deflated plastic mattress flooding the hardwood floor.

  “Fuck …” Trey murmurs, already reading the dread in my mind.

  I may not have liked the idea of sleeping on a floating boat, but the sight in front of me is not something I want to deal with.

  “I’m pretty sure I saw a wet-vac in the storage shed. I’ll go get it,” David offers, while Matt adds, “I’ll get some towels.”

  Unable to resist, I glance at Trey with a sarcastic grin. “Still happy you claimed dibs on the waterbed?”

  Remaining mute, his only response is a snort, informing me I’ve won this argument.

  MATT

  Abigail’s teeth bite down on my shoulder to muffle her moans, signaling she is near completion. Her nails dig into the flesh of my ass, urging me to thrust faster. Lifting her hips as my thrusting increases, the walls of her warm core surrounding my shaft begin to tighten, forcing my restraint to prolong our lovemaking to shatter, my cock erupting with its release. Closing my mouth over hers, it muffles both our cries of satisfaction.

  Hovering over Abigail, we struggle to catch our breath as I place a tender kiss against her temple while her body flutters with the remainder of her orgasm.

  Moving my lips, I tenderly whisper in her ear, “I love you, Beautiful.” She turns her face so she’s looking at me to say, “I love you more,” before feverishly kissing me to seal her vow.

  Rolling off her, I pull her body with mine to drape her across my chest.

  “Is it sad I’m grateful you didn’t call dibs on the waterbed before Trey?” Abigail teases, causing me to laugh.

  “Even if I knew ahead of time it was an option, you wouldn’t hear me fighting for it. You know how bad my motion sickness gets on a boat. Can you imagine a bed? I’d probably puke within a few minutes,” I admit, my stomach turning with just the consideration.

  “I feel bad for Trey and Victoria having to sleep on the floor in the living room.”

  “It’s just for tonight. Tomorrow we plan on driving into town and getting an airbed to put in the frame. Trust me, Trey will love it just as much as the waterbed.”

  “True,” Abigail chuckles before lifting her head from my chest to glance in the direction of the makeshift bed where Emily sleeps.

  When we travel, Abigail refuses to allow our daughter to sleep in a separate room, preferring she remain near us—a paranoia of my wife’s that she may awake in the middle of the night in an unfamiliar environment and panic. It’s happened once before and left Abigail feeling guilty. To avoid any more incidents, we normally reserve a room with double beds. In this circumstance, we only have enough rooms for each couple, which is why we brought along a small travel bed for her to sleep in.

  Abigail had insisted she could sleep in bed with us, but I selfishly dismissed her idea. With Abigail’s marketing schedule to promote her upcoming athletic clothing line and my training schedule, we have not been able to spend much time with each other in the past month. During this little vacation, I am going to take advantage of every night I have with my wife to make love to her for the next week, because when it’s over, we both have to start traveling again.

  We may not have the most conventional marriage, but we make it work. The time apart from Abigail makes me appreciate her much more when we’re together.

  “Matt?” Abigail quietly whispers my name, which worries me. “Would you be disappointed in me if I gave up running?”

  She’s a sponsored runner for the same athletic clothing line she designs for.

  “Why would I be disappointed?” I apprehensively question, but just as quickly ask, “Why would you want to give up running? You love it.”

  She pauses before I hear her rasp out, “Because we’re going to have another baby, and I’d really like to take life a little slower from now on.”

  My mind takes a moment to process her declaration, but when it does, I’m thrown into shock before it turns to elation.

  “You’re pregnant?” I nearly stutter.

  There may only be a faint glow in the room, but it’s enough to see her nod her head. “I’m a little over a month along.”

  My mouth opens and closes like a fish before I ask, “Does anyone else know?”

  “I wanted you to be the first to know,” she explains with a shake of her head, filling me with joy.

  My heart swells nearly to the point of bursting as I ecstatically tell her, “I love you, Beautiful,” before kissing her with a passion I cannot hold back.

  “I know. You already told me.” She giggles when we end the kiss. “But I’ll always love you more.” I truly do not think it’s possible.

  I spend the rest of the night making love to her, proving just how much I love her … mind … body … and soul.

  TREY

  Struggling to repeat the phrase I was assigned, the entire room intensely stares at me before they burst into laughter. A few random guesses are thrown out, but they’re nowhere near what I’m trying to say.

  Yanking the plastic device from my mouth, I shout the answer, “The mailman is a bad ball player!” Everyone appears confused for a second before they burst out in another bout of laughter.

  “Trey, you weren’t sup
posed to remove the device until we got it right,” Kelly lectures, wiping away tears from her eyes.

  Frustrated, I dispute, “I had the fucking thing in my mouth for almost ten minutes. You dumbasses weren’t even close.”

  “Trey, your language,” Victoria scolds, cupping our son’s ears as she pierces me with a glare.

  The game is called Watch Yo Mouth. I guess it’s fitting when it makes you want to curse.

  “Sorry, Princess,” I apologize with a grimace, hoping she’ll let this one slide. Holding her lips tightly shut from most likely wanting to join the room in the continuous laughter, I want to tell the entire room “Fuck you!” for their mocking. We’ve barely even started the game and now I’ve come to the realization as to why everyone encouraged me to go first. They knew they’d make a fool out of me.

  Looking to Julio, who is sitting on my right, I inform him, “You’re up, Mr. Muscle,” tossing him a plastic device from the stack on the coffee table we’re seated around.

  Shaking his head, he tries to hand off the device to his mother sitting next to him, but she pushes it back at him. “No, mijo. If Trey had to play, so do you. Put it in your mouth and grab a card,” she orders.

  His reaction is comical.

  It’s obvious he’s torn between disobeying his mother or making a fool out of himself. Grinning at him as he murders me with his eyes, he leans forward to reach for a card.

  As the hours pass, the men continue to drink and we begin to grow more competitive with each new round, including Julio, who loosens his protective instinct on occasions such as tonight. The women chose to decline drinking to keep an eye on the children and eventually head to bed a few minutes before midnight.

  Remaining in the living room with the guys, Matt and I tease David of his soon to be isolation once the baby is born. Jesting, we explain he should party it up while he can before Kelly traps him at home with her. It’s all false advice. Nonetheless, David takes it seriously and grumbles to Matt, “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You have him as your manny”—pointing a finger at Julio—“while you’re off being Mr. Superstar quarterback.”