He presses a kiss to my cheek, waiting until I turn my head for him to kiss my lips. It’s not a sweet innocent kiss. It’s one with promise, and sex is something we’re good at. I never have doubts when he’s inside of me, but we have a son, so staying in bed and showing his love that way isn’t always possible. I see his dedication in his work, in the way he takes care of Alex, the way he always needs to be close and touch me when he’s here.
I sigh, stuck in my head, begging my brain not to sabotage the good things I have here.
“What’s wrong,” he whispers, his palm cupping my jaw when I try to move my head away. “Stuck in your head again?”
I hate that he can read me so well, that he can tell when worry begins to form.
He kisses me again, and those worries once again begin to fade.
“Aww, really? Come on guys!”
Ignacio smiles against my mouth, unwilling to break the kiss even when his son is complaining.
“Go in the other room if you don’t want to see me kissing her,” he says, his eyes lighting up with humor.
Alex grumbles some more, but he leaves us alone in the kitchen.
“I hated waking up without you this morning,” I confess, because the first time I got like this, he made me promise to be open about it.
“I’ll wake you up tomorrow with my mouth between your legs,” he promises.
And just that easily things are right in my world again. Not because of the promise of sexual favors—although amazing—but because he knows exactly what it takes to get my mind back on track.
“Anna texted me again today,” I tell him.
I know he heard me even though he’s focused on trailing kisses down my neck.
“She’s still hounding me about going out.”
“Yeah?” Another kiss forces me to tilt my head. “I’m surprised she hasn’t shown up demanding you to go with her.”
“She threatened it this time.”
“You should go.”
“She wants to go out tonight.”
“You should go,” he repeats, his face pulling back so he can look at me.
“I’m a mom.”
“And she’s very pregnant. You should go, have a good time.”
“I’m a mom.”
“Moms get to have fun, too. Alex and I will be fine here, unless you really want to hang out and watch the game with us.”
Ugh. No, thanks. I love watching my son play, but other than that, I could leave sports altogether.
“I hate that you never got to go out and have fun because you were always busy raising our son, but I want you to go.”
“You want me to come home half-drunk, so I’ll finally agree to do that thing you want.”
A mischievous smile spreads across his face as his eyebrows waggle up and down.
I slap a wet soapy hand against his chest, but he doesn’t seem to care as he pulls me closer. “Stop. Never going to happen.”
“Tell me you’ll go.”
“I’ll go,” I agree.
“Tell me you won’t be worrying about us or feeling guilty for having fun.”
That’s a whole other ball of wax. “I’ll try.”
“That’s my girl.” He kisses me again, one hand at my back, the other gripping my ass as he crushes me against his chest.
“Jesus! Guys! That’s inappropriate!”
Ignacio pulls away as we both turn our heads to look at Alex. The kid has one hand over his eyes, trash from the meal he just ate in his other hand.
“Always dramatic. Is this what we have to look forward to now that you’re a teenager?”
His birthday was last week, and the kid thinks he’s grown. I’m glad it’s two against him now, because I would’ve already lost my sanity with the things that have been coming out of his mouth lately.
“You’re always kissing,” he grumbles.
“You’re always sneaking up on us,” his dad argues.
“We could put a bell around your neck,” I suggest.
“Wouldn’t make a difference,” Ig mutters.
“I’m going to my room. Can you guys get that out of your system before the game starts? I don’t want to have to build a wall of pillows like last time.”
The second Alex walks out of the room, his dad picks me up and carries me down the hall.
I barely have time for a shower before Anna shows up.
***
“So, you won’t get too full!” Whitney yells over the music blaring from the jukebox.
“But it’s still a margarita?” I look down at the drink, a pale green liquid in floating ice cubes.
“It’s on the rocks,” Anna explains, her hand clutching a bottle of water as she gives my drink a longing look.
Her stomach is big enough to enter the room long before she does, but she seems like one of the happiest women in the world.
I shrug, putting the straw to my mouth and sucking. Ignacio was right that I never go out. Hell, I’ve only ever seen blended margaritas before, but it tastes like I remember. I had one at a party once in high school, and I honestly haven’t done much drinking since those days. I always needed to be sober in case something happened to Alex and he needed to be carried to the hospital. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if he needed me, and I wasn’t in the right state of mind to tend to him.
“You should try the daiquiris next!” Pam, the office manager for Blackbridge Security adds. She’s a lot of fun. They all are. I expected just Anna to show up at the condo, but she had Wren’s girlfriend Whitney, Flynn’s fiancée Remington, and Pam with her.
They didn’t say a word about my jeans and comfortable top when they invaded our home. Anna grabbed my hand, told Ig that I would be well looked after, and then they dragged me out.
We landed at an Irish pub called Paddy’s, and although the jukebox is a little too loud, the atmosphere is amazing. For some reason, although men are watching, not a single guy has bothered to approach. I feel safe surrounded by these women, safe knowing that Ignacio and Alex are at home watching the game.
“I used to work here,” Remington says as she bends closer. Her cheeks are already pink with the heat of the alcohol. “Flynn got me fired.”
I tilt my head, running through the information that’s been piled on me tonight.
“Your fiancé got you fired?”
She nods, an overexaggerated up and down of her head.
“Long story,” she says with a wave of her hand like it doesn’t even matter now.
“Next round,” Anna says as she approaches with a tray of drinks making me realize I didn’t even see her get up and leave the table.
“Just this one for me,” I tell her, drawing my margarita closer to my chest.
She winks at me, but she still sets a daiquiri on the table in front of me, pushing it with the tip of one finger. “Just in case.”
She smiles at me, one hand rubbing her swollen belly.
“You have to drink,” Whitney urges. “This round is for Anna since she can’t have alcohol yet.”
They all look at me as the straw in my mouth makes the sound indicating I’ve already drained my first drink. Eyebrows raise, and a cheer echoes around me when I set my empty down and pick up the new one. “For Anna!”