Drew + Fable Forever
Page 8

“Fable, wait,” I start, but she turns to glare at me and I shut up. Fuck, she’s mad. I can’t remember the last time I saw her this angry. Sure, we argue sometimes, but not too often. We get along. For whatever reason, the two of us together equals a healthy relationship. The two of us apart equals unhealthy behavior on both our parts.
We freaking need each other. It’s scary to think of life without her by my side. That may sound too dependent—a psychiatrist would have a field day with us—but I don’t give a shit. We’re happy. That’s all that matters.
“I’ve sacrificed everything for you,” she murmurs, her voice small and sad. “I’ve given up my dreams for yours.”
“You’ve given up your dreams?” I’m incredulous. “I never asked you to give up anything for me.”
“I know. But I did. I followed you everywhere. You wanted to go pro? I supported you. You wanted me to come to your games and leave Owen behind? I did it. You wanted me to start talking to the media? I did that, too. Always putting aside my own fears and insecurities so I could make you happy. The least you could do is consider doing the same for me. I really don’t think I’m asking for much.”
Her words render me silent as I absorb them, shock coursing through me, leaving me cold. She’s asking for so much, it’s not even funny. I don’t know what to say, how to act. Loving me and supporting me is a sacrifice? Is that how she really feels?
But before I can ask her, she’s disappeared, the bathroom door quietly clicking shut behind her. Shutting me out, shutting her in.
Keeping us apart.
Fable
Men. They’re f**king ridiculous. Selfish, idiotic creatures that have no clue what’s really going on around them. If I weren’t in Drew’s life taking care of him, where would he be? What would he be doing? Living a cold shell of a life, moving through the world like a zombie, still having to deal with his dad and his stepmom and whatever other sick, disgusting things that woman might’ve done to him?
Or would he have become stronger? Would he have broken free of her mental chains? I’d like to think so. We’ll never know, though, because I came into his life at just the right time and changed everything—for the better. And once we committed ourselves to each other, I did what he wanted. No questions asked. I never had a doubt about any of his choices or mine, or ours together.
So why can’t he give me this? I’ve thought about having a baby with him for a while. Yeah, the idea of being pregnant, of getting big and fat and then actually delivering the baby frightens me; I’m not going to lie.
But spending time with Amanda and her baby son was so much fun. He’s such a sweet little boy and he smells so good. He’s four months old, full of smiles and little baby giggles, and my heart jumped to my throat every time he smiled for me, his blue eyes twinkling. He’s chubby and was bundled up for the cold weather, looking snug as a bug in his stroller. When Amanda pulled him out to feed him and then asked if I would hold him while she went to the bathroom, I gladly took him into my arms.
And stared down at him in wonder.
I imagined having Drew’s child. Holding a wiggly dark-haired little baby that we created, cuddled in my arms night after night. Feeding the baby, loving the baby, seeing Drew with his baby … the mere thought of it all made my heart fill to bursting. I’d been so excited, so eager to talk to him I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel. I wanted to tell him all about Bryce, and how much I wanted to have his baby. I thought he’d be agreeable and say yes. I thought we’d be na**d in bed right now, trying our best to have a baby.
Well, I’d have to stop taking the pill first. That would help.
And then I come back to the hotel and discover he doesn’t want one. Clearly. He looked ready to run at the first mention of a baby, which is his usual mode of operation. When the going gets tough, the Drew gets running. He loves to escape his problems. I’m the one who always makes him face them head on.
But look: I just did the same exact thing. Rather than continue our discussion, I walked out on him. Locked myself up in this bathroom so I could hide from him, fill the giant sunken tub with hot steaming water, and soak all my troubles away.
It hasn’t really helped, though. I’m still mad. More than that, I’m hurt. Hurt that he doesn’t want to even talk about trying for a baby. I’m not asking that we have one tomorrow. It usually takes a few tries before a woman gets pregnant. More than a few tries, even. We still have time. I just want a chance.
I want a baby. Drew’s baby. I want a sweet boy who looks just like his daddy. Or I want a pretty little girl who’s spoiled rotten. Actually, I want both—not as twins, but I want children, at least three kids, maybe four. I want to create a loving family with parents who still adore each other and healthy, smart kids. I want the picture-perfect little family, and I think Drew and I could totally accomplish it.
If he could just get his head out of his ass and stop panicking every single time I suggest something new and life-changing, then maybe we could move forward.
Muttering a few choice words beneath my breath, I reach for my phone sitting on the tiled edge of the tub to check the time. I’ve been in here for at least thirty minutes, avoiding Drew and soaking in the hot water.
Look at that. I have a message. From Drew.
Fable is …
Freaking
Absolutely
Beautiful
Loving and my
Everything
Talk to me.
No apology, but a poem. And I will not fall for his sweet, little silly poems—freaking absolutely beautiful? The guy is reaching and sorely out of practice. But I will not give in. I will not. I will not. I will not.
Despite my so-called steely resolve, I feel my heart melting. And it’s not from the steamy bathwater, either.
Sitting up more fully, I lean over the edge of the tub and start typing.
I’m mad at you. I don’t really want to talk to you.
I hit send. There. It felt good to be honest with him. If we can’t face each other and talk about this, then let’s go ahead and send text messages to each other like we’re teens. Whatever.
Thinking about babies scares me. I probably reacted wrong.
Ha. Understatement of the year. Yeah, he reacted wrong.
You definitely did. Didn’t you ever think we’d have a family someday?
Yeah, but in the far-off future. Not now. How can I take care of a baby?
I let out an irritated breath.
It’s not just you taking care of the baby, Drew. It’s the two of us. We do everything together. We’re a team.
I wait a while but he doesn’t text back, irritating me all over again. I mean, what the hell? Why does he panic so much? Yeah, this is scary, thinking about something as life-changing as this, but no one’s ever really ready for a baby. It usually just happens.
After fifteen minutes I’m still waiting and my skin is starting to prune up. It’s hot in the bathroom and I’m literally sweating. I want out, but I’m not ready to face him yet. Things are still left unresolved and I hate it.
My cell pings again and I grab it to read his message.
You’re thinking about babies and I thought maybe we should try and renew our vows.
I frown. Really?
Are you serious? We’ve only been married for a year.
But you didn’t get a real wedding.
I roll my eyes. He’s crazy.
I so did. We were married on a beach at sunset. On Maui. How much better does it get? I don’t want another wedding ceremony. I don’t need it. I already have you. I just want you. I love you. I don’t need a fancy wedding to prove that. I don’t even understand why you think I would need it.
Tears are sliding down my cheeks and I don’t know why. I wipe them away, frustrated at my reaction. We’re going round and round in circles. This fight makes no sense.
I’m sorry.
That’s it. Just an apology. No explanation, nothing else said. I’m not exactly sure what he’s apologizing for. Everything?
So I send him a message he’ll have to react to. It’s a promise, a vow we made to each other. The bathroom door is unlocked. I never locked him out; I’m not that cold, and he’s respectful enough of my boundaries that he doesn’t barge in unless I ask him to.
Right now, I’m asking him to.
Chapter Seven
Drew
The word marshmallow flashes on my phone’s screen and that’s it. The cue I need to go into that bathroom and talk to Fable. Tell her I’m being a selfish jackass. Promise her whatever she wants.
I’m not afraid of losing her, not over something like this. But I don’t want her angry at me. I don’t want her thinking I’m against having children. I want them.
Now? I don’t know. There’s so much for us to do and see still. We’ve only just begun, Fable and I.
I push off the bed and stride toward the bathroom, throwing open the door to find her neck deep in water in the sunken bathtub. Her hair is piled on top of her head, strands floating around her face, some of them damp and clinging to her cheeks. Her skin is flushed, her lips turned down. She looks disappointed in me.
Fuck. I hate that.
“You came.” She sounds surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I leave the door open and go to her, stopping so I can stand over her. “You know I always will.”
She sighs and drops her head, staring down at the swirling water. It’s a whirlpool tub, large enough that I could probably fit in there with her, but I’m not going to push my luck.
Yet.
“I’m being selfish,” she finally says, her voice low.
“I’m the one who’s being selfish,” I say and she glances up at me, her quick movement causing the water to ripple, allowing me a quick glimpse of her pink nipples.
Just like that, my body reacts.
Focus, Callahan.
“All I’ve done in this relationship is take. It’s your turn to have something, Fable.” I inhale deeply, hoping I say the right thing and don’t piss her off further. “I want to have children with you but I want to wait a while, you know? Can we compromise? Maybe start trying after a year? When I have another season under my belt?”
She’s quiet for a moment and all I can hear is the low thrum of the tub jets, the swirling of the water. It’s hot as f**k in the bathroom, steam covering the mirrors, sweat starting to form on my forehead, and finally, finally she tilts her head back so she can look at me.
“Can we practice a lot until we start the baby-making for real?”
Relief floods me and I smile at her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe I should join you in that tub and we can get a head start on our practice. It makes us perfect, you know.”
She sits up straight, revealing her breasts. Her ni**les are hard and little water droplets cling to her smooth skin, shining like tiny diamonds scattered all over her flesh. “I’m already like a wrinkled old lady from the water, Drew. Wait, what are you doing?”
She’s practically screeching at me but I ignore her, too intent on stripping off my clothes as fast as possible. I climb into the tub despite her protests and she moves her legs out of the way, making room for me.
“I’m out of here,” she starts, but I grab her waist, earning a shriek out of her as I pull her into my lap. I’m already turned on, my c**k pressing against her ass, and she keeps wiggling. Which only arouses me further.
Fable turns to look at me and I move my face closer to hers. “Drew,” she starts, but I shush her with my lips, kissing her senseless, our tongues wild, my hands skimming over her hips, along her waist, until I’m cupping her breasts. I play with her nipples, moan against her mouth as she continues to torture me by rubbing her ass against my front, and I reach down, gripping her hip so I can adjust her just so.
Before I push inside her body, going balls deep. She lets out a startled gasp, her inner walls clenching around me, holding me tight, and I keep still, my entire body straining as I revel in the sensation of being inside my wife.
“Christ, you feel good,” I murmur as she slowly starts to move. I rest my forehead on her shoulder, one hand on her hip, the other on her breast. She leans forward the slightest bit, changing the angle, helping me move even deeper inside her body, and I lift my hips, earning a ragged moan for my efforts.
The water splashes as we establish our rhythm, the tub so full of water it spills over the edge and onto the floor. But I don’t care and neither does Fable. We keep moving, keeping pace, our bodies slick and hot. She likes it from behind, says she loves how deep I go inside her body when we’re like this, and I like it, too. I pretty much like every position we try.
When it comes to Fable, I’m easy like that.
“Hold on,” she chokes out, then moves forward even more so I have no choice but to slip out of her body. She’s on her knees, her ass in the air, her hands gripping the edge of the tub, and I follow her, thrust deep inside her body as I position myself over her, my chest to her back, my mouth at her ear as I pant dirty words that I know will have her coming in minutes.
Her moans get louder and she throws her head back, inviting me to kiss her. I blaze a hot path across her neck, along her jaw, her cheek, just before I take her lips. The kiss is awkward but hot, our tongues tangling, our breaths mingling. And then her entire body stiffens beneath mine, a choppy little stutter falling from her lips against mine as her orgasm washes over her.
That’s all the incentive I need to increase my pace, thrusting deep and hard, my own orgasm barreling down on me. I feel it in every part of my body, from the tips of my fingers and toes to the top of my head. Every nerve ending is standing on edge, electric. I push inside her once, feel her body flutter and spasm all around my cock, and then I’m coming, so hard I close my eyes and press against her back, my groan muffled against her shoulder as I drain myself inside her body.