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“That’s the most basic phrase, but damn I love hearing it.”
“Shit. You’re right. Forget happy. I want you to be ecstatic every day of your life, never questioning how you ended up with someone as naughty as I am.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “I’d never question your naughtiness. That’s one of the best parts.”
I grab my present off the couch and place it in her hands. “Well, glad my husband services are working out for you. Here you go.”
“Roses? Out of fabric? You shouldn’t have.”
Even when trying to be nice, she makes the funniest faces. She stares at the present with a confused look, so I help her out with one, grabbing the intricately wrapped rose. I pull it off the detachable stem.
Her smile hits me right in the heart when she reads the words on the shirt.
“What! No way.” She grows excited as she detaches another shirt.
I love the way she laughs, both unabashedly and softly at once. What can I say? She turns me into the sappiest motherfucker on the planet.
She unwraps each shirt, a new slogan tee with a funny or sassy statement staring back at her.
“This is such a great idea!” She holds up a shirt to her chest that says If the love doesn’t feel like 90s R&B I don’t want it.
Sophie throws the shirts on our couch and barrels into me again. She hits me with more kisses and breathless thank-yous, her lips making my body hum and my dick harden.
Have I said I’m a lucky man?
She pulls away after showering me with affection. “Now that you’re here, I couldn’t reach the bin that has all of our spring décor. I wanted to set up the table for dinner with Maya and Noah.”
“My dick’s hard and ready to go and you’re asking me to help you decorate?”
“Yes. Sorry little guy.” She pats my pants, eliciting a groan from me.
“I should fuck you right now to remind you how so not little I am.”
“Sounds like a plan…after you get the bins.” She leaves me with one last kiss before she sits back down on the couch.
“That’s my cue to go.” I step out of our living room and into the kitchen, craving a water bottle before I locate the bins for her. A green Post-it hangs on the front of the stainless-steel fridge next to a photo of us. Buy more snacks. Vague but she knows what she likes. I open up the fridge and find a yellow note dangling near our reusable water bottles, the color standing out against the white interior. Drink more water. We’re all houseplants with more complex emotions. I laugh at that one.
A green Post-it stuck to the edge of the counter catches my attention. Get someone to round out the counter corners. Her clumsiness never ceases to amaze me.
“Getting a little heavy-handed with the Post-its lately. Are you stressed?” My voice carries through the hall.
“Hmm. Maybe,” Sophie says from across the house. I walk through the hall leading to our garage. A yellow Post-it note greets me at the arch, with the saying Twinkle twinkle little star. Weird but I don’t like to judge.
Another green note hangs off a frame of our gallery wall, starkly contrasting against the black and white photos of us over the years. Google if stars come in triplets. I have no clue about that one, but possibly. Maybe I need to call her more and check in if she’s feeling anxious.
A pink note catches my attention on the door that opens to the garage. Save fuel. Ride an F1 racer. I bark out a laugh as I open the garage door. Just another reason I love her because she never stops putting a smile on my face, from her sassy mouth to the way she looks at me like I snatch the stars for her.
I hurl myself over random items scattered around the floor. My feet nearly trip over an old pair of shoes and a discarded scarecrow that scares the shit out of me. Note to self: I really need to clean out the garage. I make it over to the other side where Sophie keeps her seasonal bins. We’re domestic as fuck now, with enough Christmas bins to challenge a small German village.
I look around for the ladder because it isn’t in its usual place. Instead, a tarped object occupies the floor with a blue Post-it taped on top. If you’re reading this, bring my dad a beer. I’m not going to lie; I could totally use a beer right now.
I lift the tarp up to reveal a baby blue kart with a yellow sticky note. Does this kart make me look like my daddy?
I inhale a sharp breath as I run out of the garage, tripping over the same pair of shoes before catching myself. Excitement surges through me because no fucking way. My heart beats against my chest, and my lungs can’t get enough oxygen.
Sophie beams at me from her spot on the couch, blonde hair everywhere, green eyes shining. The best fucking sight in the damn world. She points down at a shirt she wasn’t wearing minutes ago, white block font standing out at me. Pregnant AF.
“Surprise!” She raises her arms in the air.
