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“I haven’t had a chance to thank you properly,” Mack said as I made him a margarita.
“It was our pleasure, Mack.”
“You’re both angels,” he said warmly. “Just like my Davena.”
“It’s the least I can do for both you and her,” I told him. I vividly remembered David’s and my conversation one evening as we sat at our new kitchen table, planning the wedding.
“Is there anything you want that you don’t have?” David asked. “Anything in the world, baby.”
I smiled at him for a moment and moved from my chair to his lap. My arms wound around his neck. “Nothing.”
“Think really hard. Anything at all.”
“Nope.” I shook my head and kissed him on the lips.
“Then I think we should have the guests donate to the shelter instead of bringing a gift.”
My eyes watered instantly as chills lit over my body. “I love that idea,” I whispered. “The shelter or Davena’s foundation.”
“Even better,” he said, touching the tip of his nose to mine. “And I’ll match the final donation to both.”
“Oh, honey, you don’t – ”
“Shh,” he said softly. “I want to. My gift to the bride.”
I blinked back tears and kissed him again, this time for his generous and loving spirit.
When I saw Gretchen leaning against the bar outside by herself, I made a beeline for her. She’d recently cut her hair shorter, and was wearing it straight. There was an obvious change in her lately; she looked happier and much less angular, having put a little weight back on.
“So, how was the trip really?” she asked. “Did you put a dent in Europe from all the fucking?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “It was amazing. You would love Spain.”
“I have no doubt.”
“In fact, I brought a special Spanish wine back just for you. Want to try it? It’s yummy.”
“No, thanks.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, gaping. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you turn down a drink.”
She gave me a thin smile that slowly spread across her face as she failed to suppress it. “By the way,” she said, “I hope you’re free next month. We’re moving up the wedding.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Why?”
“Well, I don’t want to look like a porker in my dress,” she explained.
My eyebrows knit. I felt an arm around me and looked up as Brian squeezed my shoulder. They exchanged a look.
My gaze drifted back to her. “Gretchen?” I asked. “Are you . . . ?”
“Yes.” She nodded and walked into Brian’s open arms. “We’re having a baby. A happy accident.”
“An ecstatic accident,” Brian corrected.
I squealed and jumped up and down, drawing David immediately to my side. “What?” he asked with an edge of panic.
Brian put a hand on Gretchen’s tummy and looked at David. “Thirteen weeks pregnant.”
I fanned myself to hold in tears as David squeezed Gretchen in a gentle hug. I turned and announced the news at the top of my lungs, receiving cheers in response.
~
“Go to bed, I’ll finish this,” David said, throwing an empty beer bottle into an oversized black trash bag.
“You’re a good husband,” I called back to him. I let him clean because I had plans to reward him copiously. In the bedroom, I pulled black stockings up to my thighs and attached them to a matching garter belt. I slipped into the pair of stilettos I knew were David’s favorite and topped everything off with a short, black lace negligée. I snuck into our sprawling master bathroom to fix my hair and then perched on the bed to wait.
Our sex life had become a drug for both of us. Like our connection from the day we met eyes, it only intensified the more we gave into it. The more we pried each other open, the more we spilled into each other – and the results were mind-blowing. David had lovingly escorted me to the best gynecologist in town, who set me up with the strongest birth control on the market. Though we had discussed sterilization, we wanted to leave our options open just in case. The fact that he would be willing to get a vasectomy for me was a testament to the love and faith he had in us.
When I got bored of waiting, I slid open the door to our built-in balcony and let the cool night wash over me. I hopped onto the ledge to wait. David hated when I sat on it, but to lean over our own backyard and feel the breeze was exhilarating, even if it was only from the second story.
I heard him in the bedroom so I got into position by straightening my shoulders and spreading my legs. “Out here,” I called.
“Holy fucking shit,” he drawled when he walked outside. “You look good enough to eat, but if you don’t get down right this second, I’m going to be pissed.”
“How pissed will you be?” I asked, grasping the wood railing between my legs and leaning back slightly.
“Olivia, I’m not fucking around,” he said, approaching cautiously as though I might let go. He leaped then and grasped me in his arms. I giggled as he threw me over his shoulder and swatted my lace-covered behind. “You are in so much trouble.”
“Yes,” I whispered excitedly under my breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, ‘Please be gentle.’”
Suddenly I was vaulted backward onto the bed, where I landed in a pile of soft down. “I gather you aren’t aiming for gentle in that outfit,” he rumbled, standing between my legs and running his hands along my thighs. I licked my bottom lip, bit it gently and shook my head.
His lids lowered infinitesimally. “Turn over, ass in the air.”
I obeyed and pressed my cheek against the mattress. He spread me open and, pushing my panties aside, slipped one finger in. “Always so wet for me,” he muttered.
