Page 39 of Tight End
Marissa gasped and then laughed—a choked, shocked sound full of pure disbelief. Then she smacked my arm. “Are you kidding me, Shaffer? You knocked me up with twins?”
I tore my eyes away from the screen, ready to be cursed at and probably smacked a few more times. But she was grinning wide, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face in return. “Guess I don’t half-ass anything.”
The nurse laughed softly, but I couldn’t look away from Marissa’s beaming face.
My hand found hers again, the big, calloused palm swallowing her smaller fingers whole. I held on as our gazes returned to our children.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Not for a long moment. Then I looked at her and whispered, “Look what we did, baby. Those are ours.”
She turned toward me, still teary-eyed and beaming. I reached up and cupped her face with my free hand. Brushing my thumb over her cheek, the words tumbled out of me before I could stop them.
“I love you.” My voice was low and hoarse with emotion. “I’ve loved you since the moment you sassed me in that press room. And I’m never going to stop.”
She blinked hard, a tear spilling down her cheek.
“I love you too,” she breathed, her eyes full of everything good in the world.
And just like that, with the words finally said, the breath I’d been holding for weeks was finally released. I leaned forward, pressed my forehead to hers, and let my lips brush hers in a kiss so soft it barely touched skin.
But it was everything.
The night airpressed cool against the glass, the city lights glittering beneath the moon’s glow as I leaned in the kitchen doorway, a beer bottle gripped tightly in one hand. Marissa was curled up on the couch, drowning in another of my old Nighthawks hoodies, her legs tucked beneath her, and her eyes fixed on the television screen. The sweatshirt barely clung to one shoulder, and the faintest curve of her new shape peekedthrough the loose fabric. Twelve weeks in, and her body was already changing—rounder, softer. Mine.
She looked peaceful and completely at home here in our place. We’d started a movie, but I couldn’t pay attention and hadn’t retained any of it. Not with my pulse hammering and nerves crawling under my skin like they couldn’t stay still either. I hated this. I was never nervous. Not even when we were facing our toughest opponent. Yet here I was, restless and pacing the kitchen like a fucking rookie before his first snap.
I knew I wouldn’t win this battle. My heart and my utter obsession with making her mine would win out over my desire to make the moment perfect. I’d even set up for it while she was showering earlier. But still, I hadn’t made the move.
Her head turned slowly, eyes narrowing as she caught me watching. Not that this was unusual for me, but I knew she could sense that something was off.
“Something wrong?” she asked, her blue eyes piercing as she tried to figure out what I wasn’t saying.
“No.” I lifted the beer, took a pull, and ignored the fact that it did nothing to loosen the knot in my chest.
She arched a brow. “You’re a terrible liar.”
I chuckled, low and rough, recalling our banter in the doctor’s office earlier today. She had me there.
Finally, I just gave in to the need urging me to act. Pushing off the doorframe, I crossed the room, the bottle forgotten on the kitchen counter. I stopped in front of her and held out my hands. “Come here.”
She slid her palms against mine, letting me pull her to her feet. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her soft blond hair, and inhaling the scent that had burrowed under my skin months ago. It hit me dead in the chest every time she got close.
“I was gonna wait,” I murmured, my voice rough against her temple. “Had this whole thing planned. Something big. Romantic. Thought it’d be a story we’d tell the kids one day.”
She tipped her head back, studying me with those intelligent eyes. “Planned for what?”
I shook my head, not ready to ruin the tiny slice of a surprise romantic moment I was about to give her.
“I can’t wait anymore.” My throat was thick. “I need to do it now.”
Still holding her waist, I turned us toward the dining room. She followed without protest, her steps slow and quiet on the hardwood. I led her over to the window, where the skyline stretched wide and silver around us. The room was dim, just moonlight and shadows in the faint glow of candles. Gerber daisies lined the table and window ledge, pops of color against the dark. Her favorite.
She stopped short. “Raiden.”
I wrapped my arms back around her, pulling her against my chest. One of my hands settled on the slight swell of her belly. Just enough to feel it. To know.
“You have no idea how much I love you, Marissa.” The words were steady. Absolute. “You’re essential to my survival. I can’t live without you. You’re my first thought when I wake up and the last one before I sleep. You and these babies—you’re fucking everything to me.”
She smiled, her eyes shining and lips parting to speak, but I shook my head again, and she stopped.
