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Jax tips his whiskey glass towards us in greeting as Ford and Jensen debate heavily about why the town changed the parking ordinance.
“Thank fuck,” Jax breathes out, motioning at the other two guys, “these idiots have done nothing but argue about the new parking meters that were installed downtown.”
“All I’m saying is, the town gets enough of our money, now they're going to make us pay for parking?! It should be criminal.” Ford seethes and Jensen rolls his eyes, nodding at me and Zander.
“Moving on,” Jensen says, “Merry Christmas, y’all.”
We all pass out our Merry Christmas’s and participate in taking a shot of whiskey, everyone but Zander who’s sipping a ginger ale. He tips his can at us as we all take the shot, the liquor blazing a trail down my throat. The ladies mosey into the kitchen and Whit comes right to me, shoving herself under my arm and tucking into my side. Things have been so good between us. She’s been wedding planning and any time she asks for my opinion; I remind her that whatever she wants is what I want. I don’t give a shit how much it costs or how it looks, so long as the end result is me at the end of that aisle waiting on her.
Her petite hand is wrapped around a glass of wine, her ring sparkling in the bright kitchen lights. Can’t wait to turn that engagement ring into a wedding ring. I’m the luckiest man alive. Could only be luckier if I knocked her up. Shit, that thought zaps me back to the future. The realization hits me immediately that I can’t go through another loss with this woman. It damn near killed me before, but it would kill me now. Losing one baby was hard enough, I could never handle losing another.
I’m brought back into the moment by the pop! of a champagne cork. Ford lines six glasses up and fills them all up with champagne, passing them out to all the adults.
“A toast,” he says, raising his glass, “to lifelong friendships and chaotic family Christmas parties.” We all toast just as a little black ball of fur tears through the kitchen and comes to a skittering stop right before hitting the stove. It’s a tiny kitten that looks terrified for its life. Aria comes sliding into the kitchen, crashing into Jaxson before righting herself and diving for the kitten.
“Mr. Whiskers, stop running!” She yells out and scoops the cat up in her arms. It hisses.
“Sugar plum, I think Mr. Whiskers needs a break,” Lex says, prying the kitten from Aria’s hands and barely getting it to the floor before it takes off again, headed towards the living room. She picks Aria up and smooths her hair down.
“You mean like when you lock yourself in the bathroom and let me watch YouTube so you can drink wine alone in the bathroom?” She asks and Lex laughs, nodding her head.
“Yes, honey. We all need a break sometimes.” Aria seems satisfied enough with that answer and wiggles down, headed to terrorize her brother. Eventually we all make our way into the living room, moving on to the present portion of the evening.
I flop down into an oversized chair, whiskey glass in one hand. Whitley starts helping to pass out presents and my mind wanders. Not sure where that ‘wanting a kid’ stuff came from earlier. I know it’s not something that’s in the cards for me again, and it seems stupid to say it out loud, but it’s not something Whitley and I have discussed. I’m not sure whether she wants kids or not. Fuck. I can’t believe we’ve never talked about it. I take a sip from my glass.
“Hey,” Whit says, sliding into my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. She shoots me a questioning look. “Everything okay?” Her eyes bounce back and forth between mine.
“Yeah. Fine, everything’s great. Just taking it all in,” she seems satisfied enough with my answer. She positions herself on the floor in front of my chair, leaning over to help Avery’s brother Blake with one of his presents. He can’t get the bow off, so she takes his hand in hers, showing him how to tug on the end to untie it. Once it unravels, his face lights up. She grins at him and then shoots that grin towards me. Fuck. The way she lights up around kids, she deserves to be a mom again. Tons of little Whit’s running around with the same fuckin’ attitude. How could I ever take that away from her? I drain the rest of my glass, my mind running a mile a minute, knowing I won’t like what’s going to come next.
Whitley
Punching the numbers on the keypad for the front door, Dean ushers me in ahead of him and locks up behind us. Ranger barrels towards me, so I bend down and give him a quick rub down before kicking my heels off. Dean heads towards the patio door without saying a word to let him out to do his business.
He’s been weird since the party, quiet and reserved. He didn’t socialize much while we were there, and he barely said two words in the truck on our way home. I climb up onto the barstool at the island and wait for him to come back inside. Once he’s in the kitchen, he makes himself busy pouring a glass of whiskey.
“So, do you want to talk about it?” I ask and his eyes flick to mine, but there’s nothing there but a blank stare.
“About what?” He asks, settling his back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.
“About whatever is botherin’ you. You’ve been quiet since we left the party. Did I do somethin’ wrong?”
“No Whitley, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then what is it?” He heaves out a sigh and roughs his hand through his hair.
“Do you want kids?” He asks me and I answer without hesitation.
“Of course, I want kids,” I say, wondering where all this is coming from. He nods his head, scrubbing his hand over his mouth.
“Yeah, I figured as much.” He pushes off the counter and steps up to me on the stool, settling himself between my legs and I tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“We always talked about havin’ a bunch of babies,” I start, and he cuts me off.
“We’re not kids anymore, Whitley. We had a baby and losin’ that baby damn near fucking killed me.” He toys with my hair, eyes volleying back and forth between mine. “Meant every word I said when I gave you that ring, but baby, I have to be honest with you. Kids aren’t in the cards for me.” My heart stutter stops at his words.
“You don’t want kids?” I ask, shocked. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, as an only child, was to have a huge family.
“It’s not just that I don’t want to, Whit. I, uh,” Dean clears his throat, “I can’t.” He finishes the sentence on a whisper and my heart rate kicks up.
