After the completion of track season and my college graduation, I became Rebecca MacGregor. I qualified for nationals and took sixth place. No grumpy loser’s behavior from me.
Amanda, Malory, and my sister Candi were my bridesmaids. My sister and I reached an uneasy peace that improved each time I confronted her and wouldn’t let her talk down to me. Lyle, Blitz, and Stump stood with Killian. Michael was our ring bearer.
For our honeymoon, we flew to a private island in the Caribbean that Killian rented.
Exhaustion had settled deep into my bones by the time we arrived. Soft-colored lights surrounded the covered patio. Killian lifted me into his arms and carried me over the threshold. He started undressing me as soon as we were inside.
“I know you’re tired, but I want you soaking in the Jacuzzi so you don’t wake up sore from traveling.”
The built-in Jacuzzi was adjacent to the ocean. We didn’t wear suits, just stepped in and sank into the warm, refreshing water. Killian’s arms circled my waist and pulled my back against his chest. He massaged my arms and shoulders before moving down to my thighs. He worked my muscles and I relaxed into his embrace, loving the smell of the ocean tempered by the scent of my husband. He finally rested his hands on my hips and kept them there.
“You’re really not going to go any farther?” I asked with a yawn.
“Hmm, you’re tired. I think I did a fairly good job of fucking my wife last night and I can hold out until tomorrow.”
I turned around and began kissing his neck. “Who asked you anyway? It’s my turn to fuck you, husband.”
“God, I love when you talk dirty.”
I sank my teeth into his skin and felt him tense beneath me. Killian was right—fucking and making love were only semantics. Being loved was the key.
***
Three years later…
“Here, sweetie, take this to your father.” I patted the two-year-old diapered bottom as he ran down the hall looking for Killian.
I heard the squeal of laughter a moment later and knew Mikey found his dad. I pulled the number twenty jersey over my head, grabbed my purse-come-diaper bag and walked into the living room.
Killian placed Mikey’s feet on the floor and gave me a look.
I crossed my arms. “It’s your turn. What can I say?”
“It’s always my turn when he’s stinky.”
“That, too.”
“I never get any respect on game day.”
“Nope, but I’ll take one of your diaper turns if you win.”
“Hmm, what else do I get if I win?”
“Momma might surprise you.” I gave him a suggestive eyebrow raise.
“That’s a deal.”
He pulled a plastic changing pad from the cabinet along with baby wipes. I’d had Mikey carry in the diaper. It amazed me how one child could take over a home so quickly. Every cabinet and drawer now had something baby related.
“Have you spoken with my mother?”
“Yes, Michael’s feeling better. I think he can come to next week’s game.”
The past year had been rough on Michael, and he’d spent weeks in the hospital. We valued every day we had with him and I truly hoped he lived long enough for his namesake to remember him. I patted my small, rounded belly. I didn’t know if this next one would get the chance to know his or her uncle.
“You okay?” Killian asked from where he sat on the floor.
“Yes, I’m doing wonderful.” I smiled.
“Dada, ball,” Mikey said.
“Yes, buddy, Daddy’s playing ball today and you’re coming to the game.” Killian finished his brilliant diapering skills and tickled his son.
No more of Killian’s bad behavior on game days. Killian tried and managed a little better after we married, but the real change happened when his son was born. He entered his playing zone with smiles and laughter. He saved his intensity for the locker room. He remained moody when he lost a game, but the year before, the day before Mikey’s first birthday, the Scorpions won the Super Bowl.
“Up you go, Bud. I’ll see you and Mommy at the stadium.”
Killian handed him over and Mikey started crying.
“He’s such a Daddy’s boy. Maybe the next one will be a girl and she’ll cry when I leave.”
“I cry when you leave.” Killian pulled me and Mikey in close, kissed me quickly on the lips and his son on the head.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks, but I already have all the luck I need.” He picked up his bag and walked out.
I squeezed my son’s sweet body close. “Come on. Let’s brush your teeth and get you dressed so we can go see your daddy play.”
***
That night I slipped into the purple and black number twenty, lacey, baby doll nightie I discovered online. It cracked me up because I just couldn’t see another man wanting his wife or girlfriend wearing it.
Killian walked in talking, “He’s asleep… fuck.”
I turned slowly so he got the full effect.
“You are one hot momma.”
“I’m your hot momma.”
“Come here. It’s a shame to take this off, so we’ll leave it on for a while.”
“Whatever the star quarterback wants.”
“The star quarterback wants his wife screaming.” His hands cupped my ass and pulled me close, taking my mouth at the same time.
After the kiss ended, he placed kisses over my neck and exposed collarbone.
“Fuck me, Killian.”
“My pleasure.”
And, my husband made me scream.
This book is dedicated to my thirty plus years of football widowhood. You see… I married Killian MacGregor, at least if you count coaching football and playing in two or three fantasy leagues per season after his football career ended. And he has the attitude—grumpy, doesn’t talk, and goes a little overboard when he loses. God, I love this man.
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Hugs and kisses,
Holly