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32
Kit
Famous
Bobby and I stumble through the front door late the next morning full of giggles and exhaustion. After Anja’s shit last night, Bobby said fuck it, he said goodbye to his mom and the guys, dragged me upstairs to our room, then spent the next several hours fucking me into submission.
I think I slept an hour all night. Each time we’d settle and doze off, he’d wake me up and fill me again. My poor husband had some frustrations to work out last night, and being the selfless wife I am, I let him give me a bajillion orgasms.
I’m a good sport like that.
But as a result of my not-very-poor decision making, I feel like there’s a literal battle being waged inside my body.
Spermies versus the pill.
I doubt my pill will fail, it never has before, but it feels good that, if it does, I’m indifferent about the outcome. If it fails, we’d be okay. I get the feeling that Bobby’s working toward broaching the subject of having babies, anyway.
So,c'est la vie.
Whatever happens, happens.
“Well, hey there, Rocky.” Jon moves around the corner from the living room to the front entrance barely two steps ahead of Jack, and while Bobby dumps our overnight bags on the floor, I sluggishly trip out of my Chucks.
The guys stop in front of us with big stupid grins on their faces and a rolled newspaper clutched in Jack’s hands.
“Oh God. What? Did I get Bobby in trouble?”
“You look real pretty on the front page,” Jon smirks. “We’ve been reading about your exploits all day.”
I purse my lips and snatch the paper from Jack’s hand. He laughs and moves closer to watch me freak out. I’m too scared to look at Bobby. Scared he’ll be mad at me. It washisevent and I messed up.
Twice.
Snapping the large paper open, my vain side squeals with glee and approval for how I looked last night. Middle finger up, wedding ring glistening, red lips shining from the camera flashes. I look pretty badass.
The photograph wasn’t bought from the guy whose face I stuck my finger in, but from someone else off to the side. The image is almost full length down to my heels. Racerback straps accentuate my toned shoulders – including ink and scars. Backless dress except for the straps, the gap goes right down to the top of my ass crack and shows off the perfect arch of my spine.
I look slim and strong the way I envied Izzy when I first met her.
Bobby stands to my left – my weak side – and smiles like an idiot – a proud idiot.
The headline reads:
FIGHTER’S BRIDE LOVE AFFAIR.
I giggle at how ridiculous this whole thing is. I turn to Bobby. “I’m not pregnant.” He shakes his head. “And neither is whatsherface, the model.” He shakes his head again. “Awesome. Everyone’s on the same page. That shit would have been embarrassing.”
Jack snorts. “So embarrassing.”
“I already told you, babe. No children. I told you that the first night we met.”
Jon groans. “What were you thinking telling a girl that the first night you meet her?” He smacks the back of Bobby’s head. “Seriously!” Then he turns to me. “Why didn’t you run out of there screaming at that weirdo? There were three other single brothers, and you chose him?”
I cuddle into Bobby’s side with a snicker. “I did. I left with three other dudes, remember.”
Bobby rolls his eyes. “I got the girl, didn’t I? Don’t question my shit. I knew what I was doing.”
Jack makes obnoxious gagging noises. “Gross, stop. And check out page three; there’s more.”
