Page 92 of Curveball
I cough out a laugh and raise my hand.
“I beg to differ, sir.”
Max’s cheeks actually go pink. He hops to the floor and turns to guide me down.
“All right,wife. You got me. This is what creativity looks like when it doesn’t include a chicken breast and a bag of salad. Let’s find something for dinner. I have a feeling we’ll do better as a pair.”
“Better as a pair,in the kitchen?” I ask, to be sure we’re both talking about the same thing.
He smirks and comes up close—real close—till our chests are together, his muscular pecs pressed against the softness of my breasts. He splays his palms over my hips and pulls us flush there, too.
“In the kitchen, in the bedroom, bent over the couch. In the shower. We make a pretty good pair wherever we are. And might I remind you that this is our last kid-free night? Your son returns tomorrow, and I guess we’d better decide which room he’s in.And once we do that, we should take advantage of all the soft surfaces in the rest of the rooms.”
“Agreed. We should definitely do that.”
I drop my forehead to his chest and breathe him in. Those quivers are tingling in my belly again. My imagination hasno troublepicturing us in any of those positions, and then, his stomach grumbles. I laugh and pull away. We could both use something to eat. But he pulls me back, and his arms wrap around me and hold me close, make me feel cherished, honored, and on the way to loved.
Dinner consistsof grilled chicken breasts and one romaine heart, sliced in two. Max takes our two plates and sets them on the table.
“Whoa, bad boy. Not done yet. Bring them back.”
He does, and complains about carbs the whole while as I add flavor to our meal.
To the chicken, I scoop on a fresh salsa made from diced tomato, mango, and avocado. I dress the naked lettuce with more of the tomato, a light dusting of parmesan cheese, and a drizzle of balsamic. I get crazy and added toasted pepitas and a few dried cranberries to mine, but I don’t have to take the mound tomorrow.
Or worry about losing a contract or my spot on a team because my body’s not in top performing condition.
“So,you still want to call Dylan and Natalie and give them our big news?” Max asks from the counter, where he’s checking today’s scores on his laptop.
I have my back to him, reaching high to put the plates we washed back into the cupboard. I stack them, then lean my stomach against the edge of the counter. It feels as though thecontents of it want to return in an abrupt and disagreeable manner.
“You know, Dylan will be back tomorrow. What if I just wait and?—”
My cop-out is interrupted by Max’s phone ringing through his computer.
“Too late, babe. Looks like this one’s already checking in. Come sit over here.”
I move to take the stool beside him, planting on a smile just as Natalie and Adele both pop onto the screen.
“Daddy, hi!” Natalie gushes, and Max’s grin goes broad, his dimple digging deep into his cheek as he tells his daughter hello for the first time in days. I wave to them, also, using my right hand and hiding my left, and call out my hello.
“You’ve been having fun, using sunscreen, minding Dilly?” Max asks, and both the vacationing women just laugh.
“This one’s been having fun, that’s for sure,” Adele says.
“Good job in Michigan, Daddy. Did you do anything besides work? You’re allowed to have fun on away trips, you know.” I want to ease away, remove myself from this conversation, but Max’s hand on my thigh keeps me in place.
“Had loads of fun, bug.” He’s still got a smile plastered to his face, but the corners of his mouth are sagging a little. I’m glad I’m not the only one battling nerves at the thought of this upcoming conversation. “So, I’m really glad you both are on this call, because there’s something Natalie and I want to talk to you about, and I bet you’ll never guess what it is.”
“Are we getting a puppy?”
Max shakes his head, but his shaking shoulders indicates it’s exasperation more than a negative response.
“No, not a puppy.”
“Are we moving?”
“No! What makes you think we’re moving?”
