Page 109 of Lost in Love

I have her on our bed and shrug. “I was hooked.”

“That’s what she said.” She snickers.

And that, friends, is why I married this woman.

Thirty-Five

Nail Guns and ER’s

(And here you thought we learned some lessons over the last eight months. Ha. Fuckin’. Ha.)

“This isn’t working.You can’t start and then stop and leave me hanging.”

Do you know what we’re in the middle of?

If you guessed sex, you’re right.

If you guessed fighting, you’d also be right. We seem to be good at both. I guess that’s what they mean when they say opposites attract because Noah and I are completely different. Like the way he takes complete offense to my words.

He scowls at me, a warning to take my words back. “I didn’t stop.”

It’s hard for me to focus on anything outside my own need. My husband has been gone for the last few days fishing with his friends and Oliver. All I can think about are two things. How hot he looks now that he’s grown a beard, and how horny I am. “Yes, you did!” Panting, frustration rolls through me. “I was almost there.”

Noah flips me around so I’m flat on my back, the intensity of his face, the sweat on his forehead, the half-lidded eyes, all that tells me he’s into it. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m distracted, or maybe this remodel has gotten the best of me. Or, maybe it’s him. Maybe he just can’t get it done anymore.

I think he’s going to enter me again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lowers himself between my legs, his glare on mine. “I didn’t stop.” Biting the inside of my thigh, his mouth trails up to my clit. “I was gonna come so I slowed down, but I didn’t stop.”

He did stop, but I’m not about to argue with him now because hello, his mouth is exactly where I want it.

Let me tell you something about this though because my husband, he’s really good at getting me off. What he’s not good at is making sure the door is locked because just about then, Sevi opens the door, no shirt on and holding a nail gun.

Can you imagine what happens next?

I bet you can, or maybe you can’t, and I’m just going to tell you.

“Daddy, I help. I help you,” Sevi says, carrying the nail gun over to our bed where I basically karate chop Noah’s head between my thighs and rip the blanket up over us. “Here!”

They always say when an accident happens, it’s slow motion. I’d like to tell you it’s not. Everything happened so fast I couldn’t move my leg out of the way.

I’d also like to point out this is all Noah’s fault. You will soon find out why.

Wanna know how it ends? Besides me with a nail in my thigh and Noah with a fat lip where I punched him in the face with my vagina. The ER. The Beckett family and this place… we friends.

* * *

“Why’dyou take the safety off the nail gun?” I scream at Noah who’s trying to comfort Sevi, completely disregarding the fact that his wife has a drywall nail in her thigh. It’s not even a finishing nail, which I would have preferred for it to be because this is one instance where smaller is definitely better.

“It’s faster,” Noah says, staring at my leg, then Sevi who lays his head on Noah’s shoulder as he paces the ER floor. I can tell he feels bad, but not enough that I’m going to forgive him so easily.

“I sorry, Daddy,” Sevi says, looking rather disappointed. “I try to help you.”

Did you notice he’s not crawling around on the floor anymore? Yep. We’ve moved on from the dog phase because, for his fourth birthday, we got him a dog. It took about a week, and he was over sharing his bed and wanted the dog gone. They’re friends now, but just like our pediatrician said, Sevi grew out of that phase.

Now he’s moved on to never ever letting Noah out of his sight. He couldn’t care less about me lying on a table, bleeding and you know, in a lot of pain. I think it hit a fucking bone.

Kate walks in with Fin on her hip. She stares at me. “Girl, you bleedin’.”

“I know. What are you doing here?”

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