Jackson #2
“I don’t hate it at all. You know how many times you had to do the same for me when I was pregnant with Rhett and so sick I’d camp out on the bathroom floor for hours every day?
” Her feet float to the surface, and cute painted toes poke out above the water for a second before she pushes them back down.
“I love you on the good days, the bad days, and every single one in between. I wasn’t lying when I said we can handle the rough moments—all I care about is having you here now. ”
“All I care about is being here now, too.” Things have been so heavy and emotional since I started really opening up about my feelings, and right now, I want a relaxing, flirty afternoon with my wife.
So I clear my throat and steer the conversation another way.
“Honestly kicking myself for not pushing through the pain and coming to the pool sooner. Pissed I missed valuable bikini time.”
“But you got a lot of birthday suit time in.”
“My favorite thing you’ve ever worn. You should rock that suit all the time.”
She snorts at that. “In a house with cowboys traipsing in and out constantly? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe it’s time we do some renovations—build a wing on the house with no cowboys allowed. Only me, you, and that sexy outfit,” I tease in a low, husky tone, gliding through the water to sit closer.
“If you’re going to lock me away, make sure there’s a snack bar.” She closes her eyes, pulling her arms from the edge and sinking up to her chin in the water. “And a real big bathtub.”
Water gently laps around us, and our shoulders and knees brush.
She’s so tranquil as she soaks, arms suspended effortlessly in the hot water, dark curls of hair kissing the surface.
Wired similarly to our high-energy, brazen daughter, Kate usually doesn’t look this calm outside of sleep, but there’s something different in her this weekend.
She seems at peace with where things are—genuinely happy—like she’s finally stopped waiting for me to be who I was, and started letting herself enjoy who I’m becoming.
I feel it in the way she lets me come close without pulling away.
Her head falls to rest on my shoulder, and she lets go of a long exhale. “This is so nice.”
“Thought I wasn’t a bath guy, but if I’d known it was this relaxing, I would’ve found a way to get that soaker tub you wanted instead of sitting on the bathroom floor when you were in the bath.” I squint above the rising steam, trying to recollect every detail.
A memory rumbles somewhere in the distance like thunder, edging closer until it vibrates through every cell in my body.
Kate in the bath with bubbles from toes to collarbones, carefully holding a book above the suds, and a bottle of beer coated in tiny droplets of condensation resting on the wooden tub caddy I made for her for Christmas one year.
“You’d run the hottest bath a human could possibly survive, loaded with so many bubbles they’d tip over the edge and drip to the floor…and sometimes I’d just sit there while you read. Sometimes we’d talk.”
Eyes still closed, she smiles. “I talked you into joining me once, and you acted like I was trying to scald you.”
“I remember that,” I whisper, feeling for her hand under the water and looping my pinky around hers. We rest them on her thighs, and she draws hearts on the back of my hand in the way she always does.
This memory feels different from the others, which have always come in bits and pieces, as if my brain’s trying to retell me a story it heard from a friend of a friend.
This one makes my heart pitter-patter and butterflies swirl in my stomach, like I’m right there again.
I swear I can smell the lavender in her bubble bath and hear the quiet flipping of pages in her book.
“I hate that I forget all the big stuff….” I sigh. “But I love that I’m remembering you.”
Kate lifts her head, her hand slipping out of the water to stroke my cheek.
And she kisses me. A teasing caress mixed with insatiable hunger.
I lean into the feeling, grabbing her and kissing her back with such intensity, she couldn’t take a breath even if she wanted to.
Each time I kiss Kate it feels like our first and like we’ve been kissing for years, and I suppose both are true in their own right.
When we break apart, water runs in long strands down her cheeks from where I’d gripped her face to hold her close. And her kiss-swollen lips, red from the rough brush of my facial hair, curve upward into a satiated smile. Something in my chest soars at that.
“God,” Kate mutters. “We should’ve come here years ago.”
“If it’s my fault we didn’t, I apologize.” I squeeze her thigh. “I was an idiot.”
“Weird you’re using past tense for that statement,” she teases. “I think you turned it down because you were worried I’d get us thrown out when I had to kick some woman’s ass for checking you out.”
I raise an eyebrow. “My wife gets jealous? Oh, Kate, baby—that’s hot. I like that.”
“Don’t get so smug about it.” She pokes me in the cheek. “This little cutesy smile of yours is too damn risky. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to practically chase women away with a cattle prod, and that’s while you were fully clothed.”
“Well, I’d love to see that.” I laugh under my breath, looking around at the few people soaking nearby and loitering on the pool deck. “Good thing all the women here are old enough to be our mothers or grandmothers.”
Kate shakes a fist, creating small waves across the calm water. “I’ll fight an old lady.”
I press my lips to her temple with a loud kissing sound. “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’m all yours.”
She narrows her eyes at me. God, she’s adorable with that crease between her brows. “Better be.”
“You’re cute when you’re all mad and pruney.”
“Not mad,” she corrects. “Just sayin’—don’t forget what I told you about the castration band being the only band you need to concern yourself with if you want to stay happily married to me.”
I glance down at the empty space on my left ring finger. Despite months without a wedding ring, a noticeable indent in my flesh and a faint tan line remain.
“As if I could forget about that. Your car smelled like old Cheerios and you were threatening to castrate me on the way to some remote ranch. I was a bit scared I’d accidentally left the hospital with a murderer posing as my wife.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told I’m overly assertive…unladylike.”
“That’s what I love about you,” I answer honestly.
Without a second thought. It’s exactly what I love about her.
I love that she says whatever’s on her mind, even when it’s crude.
I love that she’s not intimidated by all the men around the ranch.
I love that she wears my clothes and makes them look good.
“Anybody who says you’re unladylike has never seen you in your exquisite birthday suit.
My wife’s the hottest lady in Wells Canyon. ”
She grins, pulling me in for a soft kiss, slow and warm and familiar in all the best ways. When she pulls back, her eyes are shining with unshed tears. She must’ve picked up on the unspoken words my heart and brain shout every time I look at her.
“I can’t tell if you constantly refer to me as your wife because you like the way it sounds or you need to remind yourself who I am.”
“Maybe both?” I shrug impishly, then correct myself as she pulls her hand back, preparing to splash me. “Kidding. I like the way ‘my wife’ sounds, and even more than that, I like the way it feels—you being my wife. It feels right.”
“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, Kit. I think so.”