Chapter Twenty
Aleksi
I wake before Kendall.
That's not unusual—years of early morning practices have trained my body to stir before the sun finishes its slow climb over the city.
What is unusual is the way my chest feels when I roll over and see her: hair spread across the pillow like spun gold, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other resting protectively on the curve of her belly.
The start of our family growing inside of her.
The light slants through the window, catching dust motes in the air like tiny stars, and I have to remind myself to breathe. I built something that doesn't disappear after the third period. Something that won't vanish when the crowd leaves.
I ease out of bed slowly, careful not to wake her, and pad downstairs barefoot.
I laugh to myself when I make it to the kitchen, remembering yesterday how Kendall looked in the fridge and it was stocked.
I ask Vivi to make this place feel so much like home that Kendall would say yes to the house. I should have expected that an “ultimate budget” would also get me toothpaste, milk, pots and pans, and everything I need to make breakfast this morning. She more than outdid herself, and it paid off.
I owe Vivi something big for this. I can only imagine the kind of work she did to make this happen, and I won’t even bother to look at my credit card bill when it comes in. Whatever it cost, it was worth it to have Kendall happily asleep upstairs and not fighting me on the house.
I fire up the stove, start the bacon and eggs, and then mix up some pancake batter, adding some blueberries that Vivi stocked in the fridge. I pour the first pancake onto the pan.
It burns a little.
Okay, a lot.
I flip it anyway, scraping the edges, and tell myself it's the stove's fault. Brand new appliances. Needs calibration. Definitely not user error.
"Is something burning?"
I turn to see Kendall standing in the doorway, wearing my Hawkeyes shirt from last night. It hangs to mid-thigh, sleeves past her elbows, and the sight of her like that—barefoot, messy-haired, belly gently swelling under soft gray fabric—nearly knocks me flat.
"Good morning," I manage, rough morning voice still intact.
She smiles, padding over to the stove. "Are you… burning pancakes?"
"It’s caramelization," I say, dead serious. "Very popular in Finland. Basically a delicacy."
She sees right through it with a smirk. “Sounds… foreign. But I’ll try anything once.” She shuffles barefoot to the large pantry that’s probably the size for Kendall’s current studio apartment. “I hope Vivi stocked some coffee in here.” Her voice muffled.
My ears perk at how Kendall just said VIvi’s name. “What do you mean by Vivi stocking coffee?” I ask.
Then she appears out of the pantry with a bag of coffee grounds in her hand.
“The cat is out of the bag. She texted me this morning and asked how I liked the house. How could she have known about the house unless someone told her? And no offense but everything in this house is brand new and not your taste. This was clearly a Vivi Newport special.”
Her last remark has me thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked Vivi to decorate. Maybe I should have let Kendall do it. I just thought if the house was bare and she could visualize it, or the nursery wasn’t perfectly set up, she’d have an easier out on the house.
“Vivi Newport special? As in, you don’t like the decor?” I ask, poking at the pancake corner to see if the other side is done.
“No… God no, I love the house.” she shakes her head, giving me relief right away.
“Vivi knows exactly what I like and it’s perfect.
I couldn’t have done a better job. But the monogrammed robes and signature shampoo and conditioner that she had to order from New York that’s currently sitting in the shower of the primary bathroom was a dead giveaway before she even texted me. ”
I laugh. “I sort of told her to do whatever she had to in order to make sure you loved it and said yes.”
Kendall comes closer, her hands sliding over my hips, makes my cock twitch and now I’m thinking of all the other activities we could do in this kitchen that would taste better than breakfast.
“I love the house. But you didn’t have to spend this much. I would have said yes to something much smaller. I don’t want you to think I need any of this to be happy.”
“I know you don’t, but I can easily afford it.
I haven’t spent a lot in all the years I’ve played professionally, and my father left behind a life insurance policy for my mom, my sister and I, to make sure that we were set if anything happened to him.
I never spent my third over the last fifteen years and it’s grown in interest.”
“Your father protected you even in death.” she says as if more of who my father was as a man and a provider is revealed.
I nod. “It’s grown big enough to have paid the downpayment on the house, and there is still enough left over that the monthly interest will pay the monthly mortgage, utilities…
everything. I put all of it in the trust as well so it will also cover this house and it will grow with Niko.
No matter what happens to me. You’ll always have this place.
” I can see her shoulders ease with the reassurance that I’m financially stable enough to do this for our son.
I know her experience with Tarron left her in a hard spot financially.
I want her to know that something like that will never happen with me.
I’ll always make sure she’s taken care of… like my father did.
“I can’t believe you already did all of this… thought this far ahead.” She says, glancing around the kitchen as if to understand that this place is her safe place to raise our son, no matter what.
“You’re always the first thing on my mind, Kendall.”
She pushes up to her tip toes and kisses me. It is soft and tender and then she pulls back. I want to increase it, to christen every surface and room in this house with her, but I know she’s starving, growing that baby and my job this morning isn’t over.
“I know that now.”
“Besides, I don’t think my father could have dreamed up a better way for me to use his life insurance policy than to use it to take care of his grandson and you. It’s the best way I can honor his legacy.” I tell her.
I turn to the pancakes, just now realizing that I forgot about them. I flip them quickly and this batch is going to turn out perfect. I pull out my phone and snap a photo. “I have to send this picture to Saara and rub it in her face that I’m actually a great cook. She’s a liar.”
Kendall laughs. It’s real, completely her and completely unguarded. I wish I could bottle that sound and keep it forever.
I slide the pancake onto a plate, pour another, and this time I watch it closer. Kendall leans against the counter beside me, one hand lying loosely on the top of her belly as if it’s a permanent armrest, the other reaching for the spatula.
"Let me help before you burn the house down on our first morning here."
"Our first morning," I repeat, letting the words settle. "I like that."
She glances up at me, eyes soft. "Me too."
We work in comfortable silence—me pouring, her flipping, both of us stealing glances when we think the other isn't looking. By the time we sit down at the empty kitchen island with a plate of pancakes between us, the morning feels like something out of a dream…but this is real.
"These are actually good," she says, surprised.
"You sound shocked."
"I am shocked. You almost burned the first three. I can’t blame Saara for her original assumptions. I was getting concerned there for a minute."
"Learning curve," I say, forking a bite. "Next time I'll be a pro. Besides, you were distracting me in that shirt."
“Would it have been better if I came down here in no shirt?”
“Yes,” I say immediately, baring letting her finish the last word.
She grins. "Maybe next time," she echoes, and the way she says it—like there will be a thousand next times—makes something in my chest expand.
I never thought I'd feel home here like I do in Finland. But I do now. Kendall is the only home I need.
I haven’t asked if I can move in yet. For now, I think it’s better that we move slow. She took the buying of the house well considering she’s used to plans, schedules and control. I don’t want to overload her or this could all come tumbling down before I know it.
Instead, I’ll settle for sleepovers whenever she allows. Hoping by the time the baby gets here, she’ll want me around more permanently, but I’m not in a rush. Sitting in this kitchen, just the three of us with pancakes, is fucking heaven on earth.
It’s enough.
It’s more than enough.
My phone dings on the kitchen table, and I expect it to be my sister though it should be about 7pm there and my nephew probably has a game tonight.
Vivi: You owe me for the nursery install. I take spa treatments as currency.
Isla: Tell her we're coming over for an unpacking party once the boxes arrive.
Trey: Welcome to the block. Also, you're in charge of snow shoveling this winter.
Jokes on him… Seattle doesn’t get much snow on the ground floor in the winter.
Hunter: Does this mean we get a new spot for game nights? Because Trey's couch is getting sad.
Trey: My couch is fine.
Peyton: Your couch is a relic.
I laugh, tilting the screen toward Kendall. "They're already planning to invade."
She leans over, reading the messages, and her cheeks flush pink. "They're… really excited."
"They love you," I say simply. "They've already made room for you."
Her eyes glisten, and she looks away quickly, swiping at her cheek. "I'm not crying. It's hormones."
"Hormones," I agree, grinning. "Totally."
She smacks my arm lightly, but she's smiling.
I type back quickly.
Me: She loved it. Thank you.
Vivi: I KNEW IT. Okay, unpacking party this weekend. I'm bringing champagne. Non-alcoholic for the preggo contingent.
Isla: I'll bring food. Cammy's in charge of music.
Me: You guys don't have to do all this.