“Show me. Show me. Show me!” I shout.
He laughs and pats me on the ass. “You’ll have to move for a minute.”
I move and he stands up to unbutton his pants. He pushes his pants and boxers down and raises the hem of his shirt to display new artwork below the bottom of his stomach tattoo just above his pubic bone. It takes a moment to make out the big, ornate letters. “What on earth is that? CZ ∞ QB?”
“Coach Zhanna and the Quarterback are forever.”
I start grinning like a loon, leap into the air and jump onto my half-naked husband. “You’re the sweetest man in the world.”
“I love you more than life itself,” he says before he leans forward and presses a kiss against my lips.
“I love you to the moon and back, Quarterback.”
THE WEEK AFTER OUR anniversary, Ben flies into town to spend a few days with us. It’s never felt right that he and Zina aren’t together. I always thought they were the perfect couple. I can’t imagine the woman he’s marrying can hold a candle to my sister, but I’m a little biased.
We enjoy a nice lunch and dinner before the groom-to-be and his best man head out for the strip club in a rented limo stocked full of football players and enough alcohol to inebriate an army.
After a midnight text from my husband, I crawl in the bed and grab a little shuteye before my big test tomorrow. Graduate school isn’t easy. I never expected it to be, but the coursework load doubled in size from undergrad. Fortunately, I’m in my last semester. I can’t wait to graduate in May and sit for my physical therapy board certification exam.
I ease into sleep and dream of Bryant and I holding a little baby. It’s an odd dream where I’m so busy trying to determine the gender of the baby that I fail to bask in the enjoyment of holding who I assume is our child.
“Coach!”
“Z!”
“Zhanna!”
The sound of glass shattering has me sitting straight up in bed.
“Baby!”
“Uh-oh,” Ben says.
“Your wife is going to kick our asses,” replies an unfamiliar voice, and then it sounds like an entire football team laughs at the joke.
I snag my robe from the bathroom and make my way down the long hallway of the second story until I make it to the grand staircase. I look down into our foyer and living room to find at least half a football team in it.
“Your wife is fucking hot.”
“I know,” Bryant slurs to the large man next to him. “She’sssss the hottessst.”
“Dude, your crib is dope.”
Bryant waves his arms in the air as he introduces me to the team like I don’t know them. “Zhanna, this is the team. And team, this is my hot wife, Z.”
I press my lips together in an effort to hide my smile as I begin down the steps.. “Feeling toasty, Quarterback?”
He moves to the bottom of the steps and waits on me to meet him there. “There’s glass, baby. I don’t want you to cut yourself.”
“What happened?”
“I broke a lamp.” And then he gives me the biggest grin he can muster. “I’m a little drunk.”
“Where’s Ben?” Bryant crooks his thumb over his shoulder to the living room behind him. I look around my husband to discover Ben passed out on the couch. “Is he alive?”
The entire room erupts in masculine laughter.
“Doubtful. He overdosed on naked women and too much booze,” Bryant says.
