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"We'll lay down when we get there," I promise, kissing the crown of her hair as she nestles closer. I called the resort twice to confirm we'd be staying in the same one I did last year. I have big plans to fuck her ass for the first time in the place where I once took her virginity and enjoy all the benefits of being in such a beautiful place with the woman I lovewithoutour families.
Our last time here, things were so complicated and intense. This trip, my only plans are to spoil the hell out of my wife and fuck her senseless. God knows we won’t be making it back anytime soon.
At the thought, I reach over and press my hand over the swell of her belly. This trip was originally supposed to be nearly three months ago, right after our wedding, but I was firmly against international air travel while Issy was in her first trimester.
The pregnancy wasn't planned. Granted, our birth control methods have always been questionable at best. Considering my profession, I really shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.
One ordinary Tuesday morning, I opened an exam room door, expecting to let a new patient know that her bloodwork had come back to confirm a first-trimester pregnancy, and instead found my fiancée sitting on the table wearing the world’s biggest smile, her eyes shining with tears.
My entire staff was in on it and were waiting outside the room for us to emerge, ecstatic and holding a grainy ultrasound showingtwotiny heartbeats.
The constant paranoia is another unexpected byproduct of being a soon-to-be new father (for the first time in almost thirty years) and a physician. I know all too well the horrible things that could go wrong, endangering my wife's and our babies' lives. I'm being overprotective and overbearing, and while I've certainly gotten some well-deserved eye rolls, Issy seems to be taking it all in stride.
Normally, she's the tense one, but this pregnancy seems to have brought on a role reversal between us. With every passing week, Issy gets happier and more content while I keep waking up in the middle of the night to research completely ordinary pregnancy symptoms. I’m determined to enjoy this trip, though.
“You’re on vacation Doctor Hale,” Issy pokes my side. “Put the frown away.”
I am frowning, aren’t I?
“I’m sorry.” I reach into the carry-on at my feet and pull out a water bottle, handing it to her. “Drink something. You slept for most of the last flight.”
She rolls her eyes but does as I ask just as the shuttle slows, pulling up outside the resort’s lobby. “Do you think I should check in with Judy?” She asks as I get up and help her down onto the sidewalk, unable to stop myself from running my eyes over her beautiful curves.
Between preparing for the trip, a last-minute visit to Evie and Reuben, and a hectic work schedule for both of us, we haven’t had sex in over a week. It’s unprecedented. I don’t remember the last time we went longer than a few days at most. Unfortunately, this little dry spell has overlapped with her belly becoming suddenly much more noticeable.
I’m always wildly attracted to my wife, but seeing her body grow with my babies is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I want her constantly, and while I know I should let her sleep when we get to the bungalow, all I can think about is how she’d look spread out on that big white bed, begging Daddy to eat her sweet pussy.
“Judah?”
I snap out of the fantasy, blinking as Issy, who looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”
She giggles and weaves her fingers through mine, tugging me toward the lobby. “I asked if you thought I should check in with Judy.”
“She’s got it. You’re on vacation too, Mrs. Hale.”
A few months after moving in together, I mentioned that a lot of my patients have to bring their young children in for their appointments because they don’t have childcare and how distracting or stressful it can be.
My wife, the incredible creature she is, showed up at the office the next day with a box of toys, coloring books, and crayons for our receptionist to give to all the mothers who come through with their kids. A few weeks later, she tentatively asked if she could volunteer at my clinic, offering free childcare for my patients at their appointments.
Now, nearly a year in, the practice just hired our first full-time childcare employee, and what was once a storage room has been converted into a playroom. The results have been incredible, relaxed patients, fewer cancelations, and we can fit more appointments since the schedule is running faster. It’s worked so well that a few of my colleagues have hired her to consult on adding the service at their practices.
My wife is brilliant, on top of compassionate, and kind.
As we walk into the lobby, my heart swells with nostalgia. Our lives have changed so much since we were last here, and it’s almost bizarre to come back and find everything the same as it was a year ago. Not all the memories are good. Caroline and John are, and likely always will be, a very raw wound for Issy.
In the days and weeks after the wedding, rumors started coming out.
The Bradleys are well-known throughout the medical community. I’d prepared myself for a certain degree of blowback for leaving DC a single man and returning with a twenty-three-year-old live-in girlfriend who happens to be my son’s sister-in-law.
It says a lot that the most interesting gossip to come out of the weekend wasn’t about me and Issy at all.
Apparently, the big blow-up Evie had with them the night of the rehearsal dinner was in the restaurant after the end of the party. Unfortunately for Caroline and John, Dr. Franklin (a colleague of theirs) had returned to get her forgotten phone and overheard the entire thing. The highlights spread like wildfire, which led to a whole group of former residents filing a formal complaint against both of them for hostile and abusive work environments.
I can only assume lawsuits were threatened because, by some miracle, neither lost their jobs. The damage was done, though. Their reputations, the most important thing in the world to Caroline and John, are ruined.
I know Evie has sporadic contact with them, but Issy hasn’t spoken to either since the wedding. I’m not sure they even know she’s pregnant. Standing in this room, it’s impossible not to remember how broken Issy was when we met and to feel that anger toward them all over again.
Most days, when we’re curled in bed, and I’m making her laugh, or she’s teasing me about how much creamer I put in my coffee, or we’re bickering over where to go for dinner, it’s easy to forget that it wasn’t always like this.
