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"I will, soon. I'm not that pregnant yet," I reassure him, gazing down at my baby bump.
"Six months along feels like you're already that pregnant," Jared scolds, his voice concerned.
I grin at his words. Six months does make me feel like I can't handle work for much longer. I tire quickly, and travelling feels impossible at the moment. All I want is to be cradled in the arms of my husband.
My husband.
I'll never forget when he asked me to marry him. It was right after he found out that I was pregnant the first time around. At forty-six, he wasn't sure if he would have another child, despite how much he loved raising Archer. But he was overjoyed to discover that we were expecting.
In true Jared fashion, he effortlessly planned our wedding within two months, my baby bump just beginning to show as I walked down the aisle.
Less than two years later, when I became pregnant once more, Jared wasn't surprised at all. At forty-eight, he would be caring for another infant, but he felt confident that he was entering his prime.
And that's how I find myself here, with swollen feet and a heart overflowing with love for all the children in our home. While our apartment was nice, Jared and I decided that, with our growing family, it would be best to move out of the city. Although he had to bid farewell to his penthouse, he was thrilled to settle into a home just ten minutes away from Tyler. Even as they both approached 50, their bond remained as strong as ever.
"What if you quit your job and let me take care of you?" Jared asks, his lips forming a small pout.
"Very funny. You know I enjoy having a career," I respond, and it's the truth.
What started as a temporary job blossomed into a consulting opportunity, giving me the chance to climb the corporate ladder. While I never envisioned myself in this role, the fast-paced energy, sharp clothes, and support from Kate and Jared make it worthwhile. Besides, I relish being the one in control rather than just fielding other people's phone calls.
"And you're so good at it," he murmurs, his voice deepening as his hands venture higher, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts.
“Will you stop that? The kids are in the living room,” I tell him, though I don’t make any move to get his hands off me.
I feel Jared’s growing hardness press into my lower back, and just to be a tease, I wiggle myself against it some.
“You’re killing me,” he says as he inhales sharply. “We can be quick, gorgeous.”
The kisses he begins peppering on my neck as he caresses my breasts are almost enough to get me to break. Jared and I don’t have nearly as much of a chance to bask in each other’s bodies as we used to before I gave birth the first time. I know that will only continue with our new baby.
“You feel so good against me,” Jared growls, letting his hips rut forward against my back.
It feels perfect. My core grows wetter and wetter with each second that passes. All I have to do is spread my legs a little wider and…
“Is dinner almost ready?” comes the sound of Archer’s voice through our bedroom door.
Jared sighs deeply as he lets his forehead drop against my shoulder. His frustration makes me laugh.
“We’ll get on it real soon, sweetheart,” I call out, making a move to climb out of bed.
“Come on. We can still do this,” Jared offers, but follows me out of the bed anyways.
“Maybe next time.” I smile, reaching up on my tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips before exiting our bedroom.
Outside our door stands Archer. Just looking at him, a whole thirteen years old, is enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“What were you thinking?” I ask him, reaching a hand up to run through his hair.
He gives a little grimace at the motion, very typical for a budding teenager, that forces a chuckle from me.
“Pizza?” he suggests, a pleading look in his eyes as we head downstairs.
I look over at Jared, who has a little smirk on his face. It’s not surprising at all that this is Archer’s dinner choice. If he had it his way, we’d eat pizza every night.
Getting downstairs, I find our two-year-old, Tyson, sunken into the couch, his eyes transfixed on the television.
“Since you’ve been keeping an eye on your brother, sure,” I tell Archer, earning a loud yes from him.
