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“Live or die?” I asked and bit back my grin.
“Kline! This is the worst you’ve ever been at this game.”
“Just answer it, Benny.”
“Live!” she snapped with a smack to my bare chest. I caught her hand and trapped it there.
“Then let’s live. Have some fun in the pool with me.”
“Kline!”
“Georgie,” I replied simply, and she closed her eyes.
“I want to be on the bridge,” she whispered, and a lump formed in my throat.
“With a camera and a baby. I want it. And I wish I could let it go.”
It felt like a white-hot poker lived in my chest.
I wanted to give it to her, and I couldn’t. Not for all the effort, all the money, and all the planning I could manage.
But right now, I could give her a distraction.
“I love you.”
She smiled a little smile, just barely there, and sank her weight into me. I closed my arms around her.
“I love you too,” she murmured, and I inhaled every ounce of her I could.
“Good. Now get that cute little ass up there and take it down the slide.”
“Kline!” she yelled.
And finally, with a smile on her face, I silenced her with a kiss.
“We’ve got a week of vacation, baby. Get ready. We’re gonna use up every minute.”
“Benny.” Kline’s soft voice pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up from my place on the bed and realized I was still in my wet bikini and cover-up and probably soaking the comforter and sheets. I’d been so lost in my own head, I hadn’t even recognized I’d sat down before changing and drying off.
When my eyes met my husband’s concerned gaze, warm and familiar down to the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, I swallowed past my melancholy and forced a smile on my face. “Yeah, baby?” I asked.
He walked over toward me until his knees bumped mine and then kneeled down before me. He looked up at me in the way that only he could, open and sensitive to my thoughts and madness but stern with his sensibility at the same time—and with so much love—that I felt that emotion again, starting to bubble up from my throat and spill into my eyes.
I blinked several times, trying so hard to be strong. That’s what I had been doing since the start of this, since we started this journey of trying to get pregnant. A journey that had proved to be more than difficult, and lately, had started to feel impossible.
Be strong, Georgia. Just. Be. Strong.
His large hands slid up my calves to my knees to my upper thighs, softly caressing the skin beneath his fingertips and urging goose bumps to appear on my skin.
I had to shut my eyes then, wishing the tears away with everything inside of me. I hated that I was so emotional over all of this. Hated. It. I wanted to be strong and hopeful and positive. I didn’t want to face this hopeless feeling that seemed to lay deep inside of me and had started to feel relentless in its intensity.
Because honestly, that’s how I felt. Fucking hopeless.
“It’s okay to cry, baby,” he said quietly, and his blue eyes were so tender, whispering promises of unconditional love and support.
I just nodded, but I kept my eyes closed tight. The effort was useless, though; I felt the first of many tears find their exit route at the corners of my eyes. And next thing I knew, it was a steady stream of emotion down my face.
He moved his hands to my cheeks, gripping them gently and swiping the tears away with his thumbs. “Look at me,” he whispered.
I shook my head and kept my eyes firmly closed.
“Georgia, baby, look at me.”
Hesitantly, one millimeter at a time, I urged my lids open, and when my gaze met his, Kline’s face was mere inches from mine.
“You don’t have to be strong. It’s okay not to be okay.”
My lip started to tremble of its own accord, but I didn’t want to give in. I didn’t want to feel this. This gnawing, incessant mix of negative emotions that stirred and brewed inside my every breath. There were so many people out there in the world with worse problems than mine. I had a wonderful and loving husband. A healthy life. I literally wanted for nothing.
But when it came to having a child of my own, I wanted for everything.
I wanted it so bad it was tearing me apart inside.
We had been trying for what felt like forever. After one positive pregnancy test had given me all of the hope and joy in the world, and then, it had ended up being a false positive, I’d had nothing but negative test after negative test, disappointment after disappointment.
I was slowly starting to lose faith.
“It’s okay not to be okay,” he repeated. His blue gaze was unwavering, locked tightly with mine. “It’s okay not to be strong. It’s okay to be sad. But, baby, I want you to remember that no matter what, we will always get through it. No matter what, it will always be me and you, hand in hand, standing side by side and facing every difficulty and challenge together.”
His eyes searched mine, and I nodded.
“I mean that, Georgia.” He continued to reassure me. “I love you. I will never stop loving you. And if we’re meant to have a baby, we will. No matter what outcome we end up with, what our family portrait looks like, I will always love you and I will always be here for you, holding you, supporting you, and being so fucking grateful that you’re mine.”
My lip trembled again, and more tears flowed down my cheeks. Knowing how hard this talk was for me, but also for him, I tried to inject just a tiny speck of humor. “Can we have a portrait made with Walter and Stan and hang it above the fireplace?”
He smiled and shook his head, knowing I was ultimately just stalling while I took a moment to find my words.
Kline intuitively gave me that time.
I swallowed hard, and eventually, found the strength to admit my biggest fear.
“What if…what if…the fertility doctor doesn’t give us the answer we’re hoping for? What if I can’t get pregnant? What if I can’t give you a baby?”
He shook his head slowly and shut his eyes for a brief moment before holding my gaze with his powerful and potent deep blue eyes.
“Georgia, we are a team. You and me, even fucking Stalter, we are a team. We will always be a team. And if the fertility doctor tells us a healthy pregnancy isn’t possible, then that isn’t your fault. It is no one’s fault. It’s just what’s supposed to happen for us. Baby, no baby, we will always be an us.”
I looked into his eyes for a long moment, unsure of what to say, the ability of speech seemingly lost.
“Us,” he repeated. “No matter what, we will always be an us.”
“Even if we can’t have a baby?”
He smiled at that, which took me by surprise. I tilted my head to the side in confusion.
“Yes, baby, even if we can’t have a baby.”
After the words left his lips, I understood. I understood the smile during what was an otherwise forlorn and very difficult conversation. It was the first time I had said we instead of me or I. It was the first time I’d looked at my difficulty in getting pregnant as our situation versus my situation.
It was the first time I wasn’t blaming myself.
“I love you,” I said through my tears.
He smiled softly and kissed the wetness from my cheeks. “I love you, too, baby,”
His lips were on mine seconds later, his tongue softly caressing and his mouth moving with such tenderness and love that if I weren’t already seated, it would have brought me to my knees.
“What do you need right now, baby?” he whispered against my lips.
“Make me forget about everything for a little bit. I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you.”
His lips moved across my jawline to my neck to my collarbone and down the center of my chest. Between one bated breath and the next, his swim trunks were on the floor and my bikini and cover-up were tossed across the room.
He positioned his body over mine and gently moved us so that my back fell against the soft comforter. The feel of his skin against mine urged a moan to spill from my throat, and his lips didn’t stop their seduction, placing openmouthed kisses down my belly until they reached the apex of my thighs.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, and then he was making love to me with his mouth, sucking and licking and making me forget everything but the feel of him giving me pleasure.
I knew I wouldn’t last long that way, with Kline’s head between my legs, his strong hands gripping my thighs, and his mouth doing all sorts of delicious things that had my eyes falling closed.
A guttural moan left my lips, and it only encouraged him further.
“Yes, baby,” he groaned, and I felt the vibrations against my clit.
I was done for after that. My hands gripped his hair, and my hips started moving against his mouth of their own volition, desperately chasing after the orgasm I so badly craved.
“Come for me, Georgia,” he whispered between sucks and licks. “Come on my tongue, sweetheart. I need to taste it.” He slipped a finger inside of me and massaged that oh so perfect spot until it pushed me over the edge.
Stars exploded behind my eyes, and I couldn’t stop the incoherent whimpers and moans that left my lips. My thighs tensed and started to shake against his hands as my climax took hold, pulling me into the depths of heavenly hysteria.
