Chapter 3
Chapter Three
JADE: THEN
“Imagine how cute our baby will be.” I stroke Devon’s hand, and he smiles faintly. We’re cuddled on the couch, scrolling on our phones.
“If it’s a girl, we could name her after your grandma.”
Devon nods but doesn’t really engage, like he’s thinking about something else.
“You do still want kids, right?” I ask, anxiety creeping into my voice.
Devon glances at me and blinks. “What?”
“Kids,” I say. “Do you still want kids?”
Why isn’t he interested?
Devon shrugs. “We don’t need to talk about that for a while, right? We said we’d wait until our careers were on track.” He waves a hand around us, showing the house. “I mean, we’ve got the house, but it’s not exactly cheap. Imagine adding kids to the mix—financially I mean.”
Until our careers are on track? I’m a struggling writer—I can’t guarantee mine will ever be on track.
I cross my arms. “You haven’t answered the question, Devon.”
He looks at me and sighs. “I want whatever you want, baby.”
A prickle of annoyance picks at my chest. Is that a no? Every time we speak about this, I get the same answer.
Whatever I want. What about what he wants? You don’t have a baby because your partner wants one. You need to be just as invested and committed to being a parent.
“I’m thirty-two,” I say carefully, chewing on my lip. “I would love to be a mother, rather than wait around to be rich.”
Devon groans. “I know, but we agreed we would be in the best financial place we could be, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Once I’ve got my own business, we’ll be raking it in. I’ve got my business degree, and a little money from what my grandad left me. But I just need to find the right place, learn a few more things…”
I feel for Devon. He just wants to support his family in the best way he can, and he wants to be the best parent too, especially after his dad took off when he was just a kid.
“I don’t want our kids to go without anything, baby. I want to do this right.”
I soften, leaning into him. “I know. But it feels like it’s never going to happen.”
Devon looks down at me, his brow knitting together. “My business?”
“No, the whole kids thing.”
Devon pulls me close.
“It will. On that note, I need to talk to you about something.”
I look up at him, and he licks his lips, which he always does when he’s nervous.
“Oh?”
“You know the conference, the one that sold out within seconds of it going on sale?”
I frown. “The one in New York?”
“Yeah!” Devon shifts so we’re able to look at one another directly. “Well, Ross has a spare ticket, and he’s asked if I want it.”
A feeling of dread curls in my stomach, but I don’t know why.
“When?”
He drops his gaze and licks his lips. “Uh, the networking starts this weekend.”
“This weekend?!” I echo my husband’s words and stare at him. My eyes fly to the wall calendar that has hearts all over Saturday.
No way. Has he forgotten?
“But…it’s our wedding anniversary.”
He must be kidding. We’ve been married for five years on Saturday, and now he wants to go to New York for a conference on Friday.
“How long is it?” I ask, praying it’s one night or something. Maybe he could be back for Saturday evening at least?
“Four nights.”
That’s just great.
“Oh.”
Devon grimaces and runs a hand through his sandy hair. “I know, baby. I’m sorry, but I only just found out Ross had a spare ticket. Plus, Grant Carey will be there.” He looks at me hopefully, his eyes wide, like a little boy unwrapping an extra-large gift on Christmas day.
I stare at him, wondering what in the world possessed him to ask this of me.
Who am I kidding? Fitness is his life.
He mentions his devastation at not getting a ticket to this fitness conference every year—the tickets are extortionate and as rare as rocking horse shit.
But this year Grant Carey will be there—he listens to every single podcast the guy puts out—and now his colleague has a spare ticket. How can I deny him this?
“I can miss it. I don’t want to upset you…” His voice trails off and I inhale deeply.
This is his career—and he said once that is sorted, we could start a family…
“We can celebrate before you go?” I offer, already missing him. “Maybe I can get some words down while you’re away.”
I’ve been meaning to start my next romance book, but I just haven’t been able to find the words. Every time I sit down at my laptop, the cursor blinks at me accusingly, and I shut it down.
Maybe this is a sign.
Devon’s grin is massive as he sweeps me into his arms, squeezing me tight.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, kissing my neck fervently, then trailing to my mouth.
“You do,” I reply between kisses as he places me on the kitchen counter. I lose myself to his expert touch, determined to enjoy my husband while he’s here.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He slides my shirt over my head, exposing my black lace bra. His eyes scan me greedily before he buries his head between my breasts, letting out a playful growl. “I’m so fucking lucky to have you, Jade.”
I help him out of his shirt, drinking in his perfect physique as he yanks my bottoms down to my ankles. I kick them off breathlessly, watching as he shoves his pants to his knees. His hand fists his cock, the head angry and purple.
I suck in a greedy breath.
“God, look what you do to me.” His voice is gravelly and full of longing, and I tremble when he parts my legs.
He cups my ass and drags me toward him, his eyes on my mouth the entire time.
Sliding my panties to one side, he thrusts into me, and I gasp like I do every time.
He’s so big, and each time is like the first time.
My eyes roll back as he slams into me, his mouth on mine as our tongues battle for dominance.
“Fuck, Jade…”
“Fuck me, Devon, like that,” I pant against his mouth as his eyes darken, fingers gripping my hips so hard they’re bruising.
My orgasm builds, and his hips stutter, a grunt leaving his lips as he comes deep inside of me. His finger strokes my clit as he tries to recover, and I follow him over. I’m seeing stars, my ears are ringing…and fuck, if I don’t love my husband more than anything right now.
He kisses me gently before sliding out, turning behind him to grab some tissues from the box on the countertop.
He cleans himself up, then does the same for me.
I watch him, still panting. Then he kisses my inner thigh before adjusting my panties.
He helps me back into my bottoms and then wraps his arms around me.
“I fucking love you, Mrs. Locke.”
I kiss him softly. “I love you too, Devon.”
But I can’t help but feel disappointed that I’ll be spending our fifth wedding anniversary alone.
I don’t need to drive him to the airport because his colleague is picking him up on Friday afternoon.
“Are you all set for a weekend of writing?” Devon grins down at me, ruffling my hair. He’s dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans, but he looks like he’s modeling for a big designer with his ripped body and chiseled jaw.
“I guess,” I respond, frowning at my laptop over on the dining table. It’s currently gathering dust.
“Maybe it’ll be your bestseller,” Devon remarks, leaning down to pick up his bag.
It’s a dark leather one I bought him for Christmas. At least he’s finally using it.
“Maybe,” I reply flatly.
“Hey, come here.” Devon pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. “I love you even more for understanding how important this is. If I want to branch out on my own, this is the way to do it. This guy started at the bottom—”
I can’t help but smile at his boyish energy. He loves being a personal trainer, but he longs to have his own company. It’s been difficult: me writing and holding down a bar job, and him working at a gym downtown. We barely see one another.
“I know,” I tell him, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
He searches my face. “Are you sure, baby?”
God, I love this man.
“Of course. When you’ve got your own business, I can quit my job and write full time.”
He beams, and it’s worth the white lie that I’m okay with him being so far away from me on our anniversary.
“The minute I can afford it, you can. You’ll be a kept woman.”
He kisses me on the lips, holding me close like he’s committing me to memory or something. A horn honks outside, and I stiffen.
This is it. He’s leaving.
“See you in five days,” I say, forcing a smile as he gazes at me.
“I’ll miss you, you gorgeous woman.”
My stomach flutters when he winks at me, pulling open the front door. He stops before it closes, sighing as he leans against the doorframe.
“I fucking love you.”
I bite my lip and wave him off. “I love you too.”
Then the door closes, and I’m alone.
The house always feels bigger when Devon isn’t here. We bought a three-bedroom house because we both wanted to have kids in the future, and I needed an office to write in.
Ha.
I don’t even write at the dining table, let alone use the office, I think guiltily. How am I going to write a bestseller if I don’t even open the goddamn laptop?
I glance at my watch. I have the evening to myself as I’m working tomorrow night. It’s my anniversary, but the last thing I want to do is spend it writing a romance book on my own.
I make myself a coffee while I watch my neighbor across the street ferry her kids into the house.
They’re messing around, shoving one another as their backpacks slide around on their backs, their empty juice bottles dropping to the ground.
Their mom yells at them to go inside, but then as she opens the door the dog escapes, and then the kids are chasing the dog.
I can’t help but laugh, imagining Devon and me chasing our kids and a dog around the front lawn, just trying to get into the house.
My heart aches a little at the thought.
I know it makes sense to wait until we are more stable in our careers to have kids, but sometimes, I just want it now.
Even bestselling self-published authors don’t make that much money.
I keep imagining our baby, with Devon’s bright blue eyes and tufts of blond hair.
I go a little gooey and shake my head, turning to my laptop.