The worst part about the confusion was that deep down, she knew that something real had started to root. Real feelings. Real emotions. Real tenderness for Maxwell, which she might be powerless to control at this point.
But if they weren’t on the same page…then she needed to cut and run early.
Before she lost another five years of her life on the arm of a man who looked good on paper but just didn’t have it in him to love her like she deserved.
14
The season charged on, and the Sharks accumulated two more Sunday wins. The second Sunday after the fan cookout was an away game, which meant Maxwell didn’t hit Savannah until late evening. Sore, tired, and feeling extra wrung out from the season, he came into the house close to 8 p.m., not knowing what to expect from the kids.
As soon as he stepped into the house, he heard a shushing noise from deeper inside. He smiled. “Hello?”
“Yes?” Jill answered, and he could hear the strain in her voice, the suppressed laughter.
“Anybody hooome?” He dropped his duffel bag near the staircase and walked toward the kitchen. Even though he was wrung out, just being home and hearing Jill’s voice soothed him in a way that he was getting more and more used to. When he stepped through into the kitchen, a huge, homemade sign greeted him.
“Congratulations, Unka Mack!” Jill shouted, along with Cameron and Shelley. Kevin just babbled—he wasn’t picking up on the multi-syllable words quite yet like his siblings—and clapped his hands.
In big block letters, somebody—probably Jill—had written Congrats #18, the letters alternating between the team colors of jade and black. And then all across the background were wobbly, light drawings that Maxwell assumed had to be footballs—at least just judging by the one clear example drawn into the upper right-hand corner.
“Wow, you guys.” Maxwell was all smiles as he received the eager hugs of the triplets. Jill came over to him too, squeezing him into a big hug.
“We all watched your game tonight,” she said, smiling up at him. “You were amazing, as usual.”
“So amazing that bedtime was postponed, I see,” he said wryly, reaching down to squeeze her butt cheek. “Not that I mind, of course.”
“We spent a lot of time on this sign,” Jill said while the kids started chasing each other around the dining room table. “We would have stayed up until ten so you could see it when you walked in.”
“That’s dedication,” he said, brushing a kiss against her lips. Warmth spread through him—it was strange how just two days apart could feel like so long.
But really, the past week and a half had felt like a high-speed train in every respect. It was no secret that their schedules were set up around the triplets’ needs, which meant their own intimate needs often went overlooked due to sheer exhaustion. One night that week, Jill had fallen asleep in his arms mid-kiss. Not like he could blame her. These kids were work. Thrilling, redeeming, fulfilling work, but work all the same.
“Are you feeling extra tired after that big win today?” Jill asked, smoothing her hands along his shoulders.
“I could pass out standing up,” he confirmed with a small laugh.
“I’ll get the kids down and then it’s bedtime for us, too,” she said, pushing her index finger into his chest. “I need to get to sleep too, because I just got an email from one of my partners that we’re overbooked for tomorrow—so it’ll be an extra-long day for me.”
He tutted, squeezing his arms around her. “Fine. Just promise me you’ll spend the night?”
Sunday had always been her night to go back to her house—so that she could wake up in her own place, in the right headspace, and ready for her two strenuous days of work. But when she spent the night in her own place, it meant he didn’t see her at night. Even though it was just for an hour or two before sleep…he wanted that time with her.
He wanted all the time with her. Which was a thought that kept returning to him as time went on.
“I will tonight,” she said softly, smoothing her hands over his chest. “But I’m not sure about tomorrow night.”
“That’s okay.” He brushed his lips against hers. “I have an entire day to convince you to change your mind.”
She laughed, swatting at his chest. But the shrieking of the kids pulled them back to reality—these three needed to get into bed, and now. They worked in tandem to round up the kids, who had started tugging at the homemade sign. Maxwell scooped Shelley and Cameron into his arms, using his last reserves of energy to jog with them in his arms, which prompted an epic giggle fit. Jill carried Kevin up the stairs behind them, and they all made quick work of getting through bath time, jammies, and story time.
By the time the kids were tucked in and it was lights out, Maxwell felt ready to fall asleep. Maybe it was stupid to ask her to stay when she had such an intense day ahead of her—but sleeping with her in his arms seemed the best decision for all parties involved. It just made sense to him. That was how he’d envisioned serious, lasting relationships, at least.
Truth be told, Maxwell didn’t have a ton of experience in the relationship department. A couple of half-assed girlfriends were the bulk of what dotted his history, and too many flings to count. He was very good at the short-term lover, and until Jill, he’d never felt the urge to consider much more than that.
But she was the type of woman he wanted to have in his arms even if they were too tired to kiss or go further. He thought about this as they got ready for bed, grinning but sleepy as they brushed their teeth and Jill wrapped her hair in the usual silk scarf. When they collapsed into his bed, Jill wasn’t quite ready to fall asleep.
“You need a massage,” she murmured, running her hands along the sides of his body. “Let me work you over.”
“I won’t say no to that.” He flipped onto his stomach and Jill straddled him, tutting as she assessed his back.
“You’re so tense.” She started a slow but deep massage along the ridge of his shoulders, then down the muscles that ran beside his spine. Every time she found a knot, he groaned. “Why don’t those fancy NFL coaches get you some damn massage therapists in there?”
“We have them,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “But it’s never enough.”
“I can see that.”
Maxwell was lulled into euphoria by her skilled, firm fingers. But more than that, the way her silk nightie rubbed against his lower back sent shivers of awareness through him. The heat of her thighs straddling him sent his pulse racing. And after she’d been kneading and rubbing him down for about fifteen minutes, he was hard as a rock—and fully awake.
“You’re so good at this,” he said, lifting his head. “Let me flip over so you can do my front.”
“Okay, just let me—”
“No, stay there.” He wriggled and flipped beneath her, grinning devilishly as she settled square on top of his rock-hard erection. She gasped and then giggled.
“You had that surprise for me down there the whole time?” she asked.
“Mm-hmm.” He rocked against her, his tented briefs colliding with the crotch of her cotton panties. She bit her bottom lip, and her head fell to one side.