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“For officially crowning me Fairhope’s newest hottest bachelor. Unless you have second thoughts and want to try to make it work again?” Rob winked at Tennessee.
She pushed his chest away, laughing.
“In your dreams, Gussman.”
We made baby number two under the same bleachers where I got pregnant with Bear.
It happened after we came back from eloping in Vegas (the thought of having a full-blown wedding made me want to throw up. Plus, I simply couldn’t take the chance Dalton and Jocelyn got an accidental invitation. I couldn’t stomach any more conversations about vaginal lip-lifts and foot fillers. And, I still had nightmares about that cruise and all the two-penis lies I’d spewed there).
Bear was still at Rob’s, my parents were out of town, and Wyatt and Trinity were looking at houses in Knoxville, closer to his new job.
Cruz and I were bored, and he suggested we go catch a Fairhope High football game. Show support for the local team.
“Ah, I don’t set foot in that football field,” I said. “Not since the day I got knocked up there.”
At first, he laughed it off.
Then, when he realized I was serious, he said, “But Bear’s a student there…?”
I winced. “This is why I got him into video games and skateboarding and discouraged any type of field sport.”
“You’re a crazy woman.”
“I’m well aware.”
According to Dr. Cruz Costello, the best way to get rid of a phobia is to face it head-on. The following day, we snuck onto the football field in the middle of the night.
He even wore his varsity jacket, which I found kinkily hot (also, extremely tight for the correct size of his shoulders). He tugged me under the bleachers and did all kinds of things to me, and this time, I did come.
Twice.
Okay, three times.
He really knows how to use his tongue.
When he finally pulled a condom out, I knocked it out of his hand.
“I stopped taking the pill.”
His face lit up. “Really?”
“Yeah. I know you want a baby, and—”
“I want you more than I want a baby, so don’t just do it because of me.”
“I’m not,” I protested. “What do you take me for, a ditzy teenager? I’m doing this because I think we’ll make a really good-looking baby, and I want to tie you down to me so I can continue living in your house, which, by the way, has been my dream house since babyhood.”
“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Oh, Lord, really?” I asked in surprise.
That was a pretty depressing thing to find romantic.
He nodded.
“Well, how about this? I want to grow old with you and be there for you when you whine about your hip replacement, arthritis, and deep vein thrombosis.”
“Thank you, sweetheart, for planning my early grave before I hit middle age. Now can you shut up so I can put it in?”
