Page 132 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
“Or what? You’d kick my ass?”
I harrumph. “Into next week, buddy!”
He tickles me, I squeal and squirm in his lap, and then from behind us someone clears his throat. I look up and Nico is standing at the sliding glass patio door, looking a little embarrassed.
“Don’t mean to interrupt playtime,” he drawls, “but your man is supposed to be helpin’ me clean up the mess in the kitchen. Considerin’ he made most of it.”
“I can’t help it if I have a big appetite,” says A.J., sounding unconcerned. “I’m eating for two.”
Nico looks at me with his brows raised.
“Sympathy hunger,” I explain with a shrug. “It’s a weird pregnancy partner thing. He even thinks he has morning sickness. I swear he’ll be screaming louder in the delivery room than I will be.”
Nico mutters, “And here I thought penis envy was weird.”
A.J. quips, “Aw, that’s sweet, man! But don’t worry, I’m sure your average-sized junk does the job just fine. Kat seems real happy.” He beams, and Nico rolls his eyes.
“Fuck you, brother.”
“Right back at you, brother.”
They both grin.
I lumber from A.J.’s lap, groaning as I straighten; my lower back is in knots. “Okay, I’ve had enough of the male bonding. C’mon, Big Daddy, let’s go inside.”
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. But now that A.J. is a daddy—or a daddy to be—calling him “Big Daddy” seems to fit, even if I did have such a stick up my butt about it before.
Plus, the way it makes Nico cringe is totally worth it. There’s not much that makes that man blush.
A.J. takes my o
utstretched hand, and I gently lead him across the sunny patio to the house. He can still see light and shadows, and some colors, but shapes and faces elude him. Driving is out of the question, as is going anywhere alone outside of our house, which he’s learned to navigate expertly. He wears sunglasses much of the time because he thinks it makes people uncomfortable to look into his unfocused, faraway gaze, but around the band and close friends he doesn’t bother.
And, thank God, his sightlessness hasn’t affected his ability to play drums at all. Sit him down behind his kit and he still whales on it until his fingers bleed. I think his timing might even be better now that he’s relying fully on his other senses.
I can definitely vouch for how acute his other senses have become, especially his nose. I swear he can smell when I’m horny. I don’t even have to say a word. From all the way across the house he’ll make a beeline toward me, and then we’re in bed.
Silver linings, people. You either focus on the bad, or the good.
I’ve chosen to focus on the good. It’s not hard; there’s a lot of it.
Inside, Kat is trying to feed Barney another one of Nico’s amazing ribs. Barney protests that he’s already had enough, but the way he’s looking at the plate Kat’s holding makes it obvious he hasn’t. Ethan and Chris are lounging on the sofa in the living room, playing a video game and insulting each other with good-natured name-calling, while Kenji sits to one side, examining his manicure and looking bored.
I don’t see Grace or Brody anywhere.
“Okay, A.J., I’ll wash, you rinse,” says Nico. He’s standing in front of the kitchen sink. One side is filled with fluffy white bubbles; beside the sink on the counter is a stack of plates and a mess of cups and silverware from all the food we devoured for lunch.
I lead A.J. to the counter. He follows with one hand resting lightly on my right shoulder, and then positions himself in front of the sink beside Nico, feeling for the edge of the counter, the water faucet, and the dish rack. Once he’s set, he holds out a hand for the first plate.
I love it that no one treats him as if he’s any different than he was before. He still has to pull his own weight. With the band, with everything. There’s no pity, another gift for which I’m grateful.
“Who’d have thought our men were so domestic?” I say to Kat, watching two of the most famous rock stars on the planet soap and rinse cutlery.
Kat snorts. “Oh, please, it’s all for show. As soon as everyone leaves, Nico will call the housekeeper. He doesn’t even wash his own underwear.”
A.J. jokes, “That poor fucking woman. I hope you’re paying her six figures.”
Nico hands A.J. another fork. “At least I own underwear.”
