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She was sick. I was sick. There were too many people in the house.
But today…
Today I needed that connection. Today, I wanted to make love to my wife.
“You’ll be late,” she teased.
I didn’t care.
I really, really didn’t care.
I squeezed her hips, and she laughed, looking at me over her shoulder.
“You know if we try this, something or someone will interrupt us,” she said.
I pulled away from her, and I visibly saw the sadness reach her eyes.
But I wasn’t stopping, even though she thought that I was.
I headed to the door of the bedroom, flipped the lock—having thirty fucking people in the house at any given time between my family and Zip’s made it almost impossible to find a moment alone—and came back to her.
She watched me do it, a smile on her face. “Hurry.”
I pushed her so that she was farther up the bed, then slowly worked her panties down her ass.
Her gorgeous pussy was displayed nicely for me, and I trailed a lone finger down her exposed sex.
She jerked, her eyes going wide.
“I know that you want to play,” she panted as she dropped her shoulders and head to the bed and wiggled her ass, “but you really, really need to get inside of me.”
I pulled my sweats and underwear down just enough for my cock to pop free.
“But it’ll be too fast,” I said.
She laughed into the bed, then turned her head so that she could see me. “That’s exactly what I need.”
I lined my cock up with her entrance, and slowly slipped inside.
It took all of half a second to be buried inside her to the hilt.
It took her four strokes of my cock pounding into her sweet pussy before she came.
It took me two more.
And there was nothing ‘wrong’ about this release. It was all back to normal, as if it was never ‘wrong’ to begin with.
I poured everything that I had into her sweet pussy until it was spilling out the sides.
“Guess it’s been a while,” I said as I pulled out.
Luckily, there was a yoga mat underneath of her that caught all the overflow.
She hurriedly ran to the bathroom, and I followed much slower, using a dirty t-shirt to clean up the mess before heading to the bathroom fully dressed once again.
She stared at me from the toilet as she cleaned herself up.
“We need to go,” she grumbled.
I leaned against the door frame as I watched her throw on a pair of my sweats, one of my wife beaters that fit her surprisingly well, and her Crocs.
We were all the way there before she addressed the elephant in the room.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered as she dropped me off.
I looked at her, hopping out of the truck and waiting for her to crawl over before I replied.
“I know.”
She moved until she was in the seat, and this time, her complicated maneuvering of her body didn’t even make me laugh.
She turned in the seat, then wrapped her hands around my neck. “Baby, your mom is making this decision. Let her.”
My mom was making the decision to die.
Not in a way that she was committing suicide or anything, but in a way that she’d chosen to come off of all medications that were helping keep her alive.
She was now only days or weeks from passing, according to her doctor.
And I was left feeling bereft.
I didn’t know how to live without my mom. I’d never had to do it before.
“Go,” she urged. “I’ll be at the coffee shop.”
So I did.
And ten minutes into the treatment her brother Keene arrived.
He took a seat, then he told me every single detail about my wife that ever happened to her that was even semi-embarrassing.
I loved every second of it.
• • •
Last round of chemo
I looked over at my wife.
God, I still couldn’t believe I got to call her my wife, and I smiled.
Then I reached up and rang the bell.
Zip, her hands on her face as tears streamed down her cheeks and between her fingers, smiled so big at me that my heart literally soared.
Everyone was there except for my mom. But even she was on a FaceTime call.
I grinned at everyone and dropped my hand.
The room around me exploded with applause and cheers.
The end.
That was the end.
Thank God.
I stepped away from the bell, very much aware that there were at least two people in the room beside those who were here for me, that knew me. And knew by the end of this day, it was a high possibility that the world would know that I’d had cancer.
Had.
I didn’t have it anymore.
I was officially a free man.
I walked over to my wife, who was standing in a sea of her sisters, and pulled her into my arms.
Keene slapped me hard on the back, while Winston did the same on the other side.
