I turned, forcing a smile, which was hard to do even with everyone else practically glowing. “Yeah. It’s just been a crazy day. Good but crazy. I’m going to put my toothpaste in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
My mom, nodded, but skepticism lined her brow.
Tearing into the box, I pulled out the first stick.
Negative.
The second and third tests were also negative.
“Shit.” I looked at my disheveled reflection in the mirror. I wanted to be pregnant so badly because it would have meant the worst feeling ever was for the best reason ever. Instead, I was left feeling like a fucking bomb was waiting to go off. Why? I had no clue. It was just a feeling. A feeling so strong I felt on the verge of tears. I just couldn’t define it yet.
“Cage!” Hayden and Isa screamed in unison.
I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. “Get it together,” I mumbled into the towel as I quickly blotted my face.
I peeked around the corner to the celebration in the kitchen.
Smile. Just smile.
Cage turned, setting down the near-empty bottle of his electrolyte drink. “Hey.”
I smiled. It felt all kinds of wrong, but I did it anyway. “Hey.” Ignoring the cancer eating me up inside, I walked into his waiting arms.
His lips settled next to my ear. “We should have put them up in a nice hotel,” he whispered. His firm erection pressed to my stomach told me why. Apparently making it to the Super Bowl caused extreme horniness.
I should have shared his desperate desires, but the-world-is-coming-to-an-end cloud that hung over me didn’t allow any sunshine on my libido.
“Bedtime girls.” Brooke smiled at us and so did my mom.
Heat climbed up my neck. Theyknewexactly what Mr. Sports Sensation was whispering to me.
“Mr. Jones.” My mom nudged my dad who still had a beer in one hand and a half piece of pizza in his other hand. “Bedtime. Finish up.”
It felt like a wedding reception where everyone knew exactly what the bride and groom were getting ready to go do, except in the wedding scenario they weren’t doing it in the same house as both sets of parentsandtwo eight-year-olds.
“Goodnight, my boy.” Brooke hugged Cage then her voice lowered a notch. “Your dad would have been so proud.”
Cage swallowed hard and nodded. I looked away, blinking back my own tears.
My dad gave me a hug then pointed to Cage. Cage grinned. “Well done, Lake.”
I rolled my eyes.
“He didn’t ask for my permission to marry you, but I’ll let it slide if he’s named the Super Bowl’s MVP.”
A slight cringe wrinkled Cage’s face. He wanted to ask my dad.
“Goodnight, Dad.”
He released me and patted Cage on the shoulder as he followed my mom to the walk-out level.
“Bedroom,” Cage mouthed to me as we stood alone in the kitchen.
“I should tidy up the kit—Cage!” I squealed, but not before he had me over his shoulder, hauling me toward the bedroom like the caveman he claimed not to be. “Take off your clothes,” he demanded the second my feet touched the ground. The lock clicked. He eyed me with a hungry look. “Off.”
Too. Damn. High.
On a deep breath, I pulled my sweater over my head. His eyes settled on my breasts for a few seconds before he shrugged off his shirt. “Keep going.” A naughty smirk played along his lips.
