Chapter 2 – Beth McIntyre
Now…
My idea of the perfect evening is to sit in my cozy, oversized armchair with my feet up on an ottoman, sip peppermint tea, and watch my husband wrestling with our two kids on the family room rug.
Everything is right in my world tonight.
Everyone’s fed—thank you for a delicious homecooked meal, Cooper!
—the kids are bathed and dressed in their PJs, and right now, Shane is focusing one hundred percent of his attention on our kids, making memories with them that will hopefully last a lifetime.
To Luke and Ava—our precocious three-year-old son and one-year-old daughter—Shane is simply Daddy. They have no clue he’s the CEO and co-founder of a billion-dollar security firm.
He’s just Daddy. He’s the one who gives them pony rides in the evenings and reads Luke his bedtime stories before he tucks him in at night.
A wave of sadness sweeps over me when I think about the fact I have no memories of my own father to carry with me.
He died in the line of duty as a Chicago police officer when I was six months old, leaving behind a devastated wife, a heartbroken eighteen-year-old son, and a baby daughter who would never know the joy of wrestling with her daddy.
Ava squeals loudly, nearly shattering my eardrums and pulling me out of my reverie. Shane laughs as he lies on his back and holds her high in the air above him. She loves to play the airplane game.
“Be careful,” I caution. “She just ate dinner a little while ago.” Our daughter has a reputation for spitting up.
Shane laughs off my warning. “I’ve been puked on before, and I’ll be puked on again.” Nevertheless, he rolls to his side and brings Ava gently down to the floor, where he tickles her as she wriggles, her little arms and legs thrashing as she squeals with delight.
And while Shane and Ava are occupied, Luke climbs on top of Shane, wobbling dangerously as he tries to stand on his father’s hip. “I’m king of the mountain, Daddy!”
Shane releases Ava and rolls onto his back, upsetting the apple cart, so to speak. Luke loses his balance and falls, and Shane catches him before he hits the floor.
When the grandfather clock begins to chime at the top of the hour, Shane stands and hauls both kids up, draping them over his shoulders like sacks of potatoes. “Did you hear that? Eight bells means it’s bedtime.”
“But, Daddy!” Luke cries. “We’re having fun.”
“Sorry, pal.” Shane gestures to the big mahogany clock that stands regally beside the brick fireplace. “The clock has spoken. It’s bedtime.”
Shane walks over to me and gently deposits Ava in my lap. “This one’s all yours.” He leans down to drop a light kiss on my lips. “I’ll see you shortly.” And then he carts Luke down the hallway that leads to our bedrooms.
I listen as their voices grow distant.
“It’s not fair, Daddy,” Luke says. “We were having fun.”
“I promise we’ll have more fun tomorrow. Right now, it’s time to brush your teeth.”
When their voices fade, I stand with Ava in my arms. “All right, young lady. It’s your bedtime, too.”
Worn out from playing, Ava lays her head on my shoulder and pops her thumb into her mouth. She grasps a loose strand of my hair with her other hand and twirls it around her index finger.
After depositing my empty tea cup in the sink, I carry my daughter to her bedroom, where I’ll nurse her before she goes down for the night.
Ava’s just over a year old now, and she is weaned for the most part. I nurse her twice a day, first thing in the morning and right before she goes to bed. Other than that, she’s eating homemade baby food.
After I change her diaper, we get comfy in the padded rocking chair, and I quietly sing to her while she nurses.
I gaze down at her sweet, round face, captivated by her sleepy, bright blue eyes staring up at me and her light brown hair which is getting curlier by the day. She gets her hair and eye color from her father, whereas Luke is a pale blond like me.
Before long, Ava is sound asleep in my arms, her mouth slowly falling off my nipple. I remain right where I am because I don’t want to put her in her crib just yet. I cherish these quiet moments with her because one day she’ll be too big to sleep in my arms.
Half an hour later, Shane slips quietly into the nursery. He takes a seat in the spare armchair and watches me rocking our daughter. “She’s asleep?” he whispers.
I nod. “Luke’s asleep?” I whisper back.
Shane nods. Three stories, he mouths to me, holding up three fingers.
I smile. Shane’s gotten very good at reading bedtime stories. The kids like how he makes up voices for each of the characters. He’s become quite the narrator.
Shane gingerly takes our daughter from me, kisses her forehead, and lays her in her crib. “Goodnight, sweet pea.”
Then he offers me his hand so he can pull me onto my feet and wrap his arms around me.
Now that the kids are asleep in their beds, it’s our time.
We’ll spend the next hour or two cuddling on the sofa in the family room, just talking or making out like teenagers.
Sometimes we watch a movie. Tonight we have the common area—the kitchen and family room—all to ourselves as our housemates, Sam and Cooper, are out on a date.
* * *
Shane’s already in bed by the time I finish washing up and join him. He’s leaning against the headboard, shirtless, with the blankets covering his lap. At the moment, his attention is glued to the hardcover book in his hands.
He sleeps commando, so I know full well what’s underneath that bedding. “That must be Jamie’s new book,” I say as I come to stand at my side of our bed and pull back the covers.
Absently, he nods. “It’s really good. It’s only a matter of time before Hollywood comes knocking at his door. His books would make fantastic military action movies.”
When Shane finally lifts his gaze from the book and gets a glimpse at what I’m wearing, his eyes widen. He slips his bookmark between the pages and snaps the book closed before laying it on his nightstand. Now I’ve got his full attention. His electric blue eyes are glued to me.
I’m wearing a sheer nightgown, one so short it doesn’t even cover my bare butt cheeks. This kind of nightgown isn’t designed for sleeping.
There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “It seems like a waste of effort to put that on when you know I’m going to take it off you in ten seconds flat.”
“Maybe that’s the point.”
He chuckles as he leans across the bed, grabs one of my wrists, and hauls me onto the mattress. “I’ve had to share you all day with the kids, the bookstore, and Sam and Cooper. But now you’re all mine.”
Shane pulls me onto his lap so that I’m straddling his thighs.
Even through the bedding, I can feel his growing arousal swelling beneath me.
But he doesn’t undress me or reach for my breasts, not yet anyway.
Instead, he cups my face and gazes into my eyes for the longest time, staring at me like he’s cataloging every fleck of color, the length of every eyelash.
He’s not just staring. He’s memorizing.
The moment feels suddenly very heavy.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I want to remember this moment forever.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.” He gently skims his hands down my face, my throat, to my shoulders.
“It seems like it was just yesterday we got married, and now we have two amazing kids and we’re working diligently on a third.
” He rests a warm palm against the bare skin of my belly.
“Sometimes I want to freeze time and enjoy the moments we have.”
I feel tears prickling my eyes. “Stop it. You’re going to make me cry.”
“I didn’t mean to make you sad.” He grasps my hands. “I just want you to know you are everything to me.” He brings one of my hands up to his mouth and kisses it. “Everything.”
My throat tightens. He’s always loving and affectionate, but there’s an unusual somber quality to his mood tonight. His words settle so heavily in the quiet between us, I feel a shiver ripple down my spine. “Is everything all right?”
He smiles. “Yes. Perfect.” His hands begin meandering beneath my nightgown until they settle on my bare ass cheeks. He pretends to be shocked. “You’re not wearing panties, Mrs. McIntyre.”
“You’re very observant.” I lean forward and press my lips to his. “Do you want to make a baby tonight?”
He grins. “You know I do.”
We’ve been discussing having another baby for a while now. I haven’t been on birth control since I got pregnant with Ava—not while I was pregnant, of course, and not while I’m still nursing her. We stopped using condoms a few months ago when we decided to let nature take its course.
“Your period is late,” he points out. Of course he’s been keeping track. He misses nothing. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
I shrug. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m still nursing. That can mess up a woman’s periods.”
“True. Or, you could be pregnant. Do you want to test?”
“Right now?” I laugh softly. “I thought we were going to have sex.”
“Can’t we do both? Pee on a stick now, and then have sex?” He gently squeezes my butt cheeks. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll have something to celebrate.”
Or, not. If the test is negative, I’ll be disappointed. I like keeping the possibility alive a little while longer. “Not tonight.” I lean forward to kiss him. “Soon, though, I promise.”
I can tell he wants to say more about it, but he refrains. He knows I’m careful about what I eat and drink, especially as I’m still nursing Ava. And he knows I’d never do anything to jeopardize a pregnancy.
“Okay.” His hands slide up beneath my nightgown, grazing my bare back and making me shiver. One of his hands continues up to the nape of my neck, which he grips firmly.
Liquid warmth pools between my legs, and suddenly I’m aching to feel him inside me.
“I love you,” he says.
He says those words often, and at random moments, like when we’re in bed, or when we’re at the grocery store, or when we’re doing the dishes together.
“I love you, too.”