Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Zaan
Something’s up with my wife.
We’ve been in love since we were seventeen and eighteen—with a breakup in the middle to deal with some growing pains—so I know her almost better than I know myself. She’s been distant on the phone, in a hurry to hang up, get back to work. And that’s not like her.
We’re normally one of those annoying couples who constantly touch and kiss and say sweet things to each other. Most of our friends tease us about how in love we are and how mushy we behave. And we honestly don’t give a shit.
So for her to be acting weird, something has to be going on.
I know her well enough to not jump to conclusions, but I’m going to find out what’s bothering her tonight.
We’ve been in Anchorage the last few days for games three and four of our playoff run, so I’ve been distracted, but we swept them, so that ends now.
I let myself into our house, grateful that her convertible is in the garage.
“Lex?” I call to her and look around in confusion.
The house is dark, which makes no sense since it’s only five o’clock in the evening.
“Lexi?” I’m a little worried now, and I walk toward the stairs.
Then I pause.
There are roses on the stairs, in a trail leading up to the landing.
I smile.
Obviously, she has some kind of surprise planned.
It’s unexpected, considering how odd she’s been behaving all week, but I’m not mad about it.
I take the stairs two at a time and follow the roses to the primary suite.
“Babe?”
“In here.” Her voice is soft and warm, maybe a little huskier than normal.
“What’s all this?” I step into our bedroom and take in the candles, more roses, and my gorgeous wife sprawled out on the bed in a skimpy little nightie.
“Welcome home.”
“Thank you.” I drop my bag and walk over to the bed so I can lean over and kiss her.
She reaches up and puts her hand on the side of my face. “Go ahead and get comfortable.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
“Be right back.”
I head into the bathroom where I drop my suit in the laundry basket designated for clothes going to the dry cleaner, strip out of my socks and boxers, and then wash my hands. I’ve been traveling all day, so I would’ve liked a shower, but my wife obviously has something else in mind.
“Hi again.” I slide onto the bed beside her, and she wraps her arms around me.
“Hi.” Her voice is a whisper.
“Everything okay, babe?”
“Everything is wonderful.” She smiles softly. “Make love to me, Zaan.”
It’s an odd request.
Not because we don’t have sex often—because we do, a lot, in fact—but because of the way she asked.
“You sure everything is okay?”
She kisses me in response, her mouth greedy for mine.
I run my hand over her bare ass, immediately swept up in her obvious need for me. We have a healthy sex life, so planning a romantic evening for sex feels off. But I don’t question it because there’s no universe where I turn down a request from my wife to make love to her.
She pushes me onto my back and straddles me, resting her hands on my shoulders.
My fingers skim her hips as I gaze up at her.
Her hair is long and blond, falling around her chest and shoulders.
Her breasts are tattooed, because she hates her mastectomy scars, and I never tire of looking at the beautiful design.
Her breasts have almost no sensitivity after so many surgeries, but she enjoys when I caress them.
I reach up and cup them, gently running my thumbs along the soft skin. Her eyes flutter closed, and she slowly sinks down on my cock. We sigh in unison, and I continue to stroke her breasts as she starts to move.
She doesn’t appear to be in any hurry, taking her time as she rises and falls, our bodies finding a familiar rhythm.
There’s nothing more beautiful than watching my wife grinding and rocking on me.
She’s lean and toned, with a flat stomach and spectacularly long legs.
I particularly love when they’re wrapped around my neck as I go down on her, but this is good too.
“God, you feel good,” she whispers, clenching around me. “I don’t want it to end.”
“Eventually we’ll have to, but we’re not in a rush.” I grip her hips and force her to slow down. “Look at me, baby.”
She turns her aquamarine eyes to me questioningly.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” She looks more amused than surprised.
“Come on. You’ve been keeping something from me all week, and then I come home to a romantic evening in bed. What’s going on?”
She gives me a soft, sweet smile.
“You’re going to have to make me come before I tell you anything.”
“Is that so?” Now that the playful side of her is back, I’m less concerned. “Well, that’s easy.”
Before she can react, I flip us over so she’s on her back and I’m on top of her. I take both of her hands in one of mine and hold them above her head. Then I drive into her at the angle I know will make her crazy.
“Oh, fuck…Zaan!” Her breath comes out in a whoosh of air, and she bucks against me.
“That’s my girl…” I thrust hard and deep, because that’s what she likes.
She wiggles, struggling to free her hands while simultaneously letting me take over. I’m not rough, but I’m not gentle either and the steady pace has the desired effect. She arches up to meet me and then it’s game over. She bucks and moans as she spasms around me and I’m right behind her.
Then we lay there, completely wrapped up in each other.
I let go of her hands, and she immediately winds them around my neck, pulling me even closer. I press soft kisses on her forehead, temples, and cheeks, waiting for her to tell me whatever it is that’s on her mind.
“We’re going to have a baby,” she whispers.
It takes a few seconds for her words to penetrate.
“Wait…did you say…” I’m a little flustered because I’ve known since the beginning that her chances of conceiving naturally were very low.
She nods, her eyes a little watery. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh my god, baby!” I crash my lips to hers and then lift up to look at her. “Are you okay? How long have you known? How far along? Oh my god!”
She giggles. “I’ve known a few days. I found out while you were gone but wanted to wait until we were together to tell you.”
“This is incredible.” I look down at her. “Right?”
“The timing isn’t great,” she says, “but yes. I’m excited. I’m eight weeks. It’ll be nine on Wednesday.”
“How are you feeling? When are you due?”
“The due date is Christmas. The twenty-fifth.”
I chuckle. “Well, that’ll be a hell of a Christmas present.”
“Are you happy?” There’s a note of worry in her voice that surprises me.
“Yes! Hell yes. Aren’t you?”
“I am. I just…” Her voice trails, and she bites her lip.
“The tour is starting.”
She nods. “And there’s a lot of money on the line. This is our first headlining tour. The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Have you told them yet?”
“No. You’re the first. Other than Mack. She came to my appointment with me because I was nervous.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“That everything looks good, start taking prenatal vitamins, and don’t worry unless and until there’s something to worry about.”
“She didn’t say you were high risk?”
“She said I’m potentially high risk. Meaning, things could change as I get further into the pregnancy. But right now, we’re both strong and healthy. And honestly, I feel great.”
“But that’s good news. I mean, you can probably do the first half of the tour, right? And then maybe they’ll have to reschedule the second half for next year.”
She nods but I can see her heart isn’t in it. “What?” I ask. “You don’t like that idea?”
“I don’t want to be replaced.”
“You think they would?”
“I don’t know, but we’re rehearsing tomorrow, so I’m going to tell them then.”
“Lex, everything is going to be okay. The band is going to be happy for you. You’ll see.”
“I just don’t want to blow things up. We’ve worked so hard to get where we are…
I don’t want my pregnancy to derail our success.
This is our first tour headlining and now we may have to cut it short because I got pregnant?
And then how long before I’m physically able to perform again?
Not to mention, I have to believe I’m not going to want to leave the baby… ”
“We hire a nanny, and you take her on tour.”
“Her?” She smiles.
“I don’t know why I said that, but it feels like it’s a girl.”
“I feel that way too.”
“Talk to the band before you freak out, okay? By next summer, you’ll be chomping at the bit to get back on the road, and the baby will be too little to notice where she is. I think things will be more complicated when she’s older. Right now, she’s going to be a helpless little blob.”
“You always know what to say,” she whispers. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”