When he lifts the washcloth, it’s tinted pink. He smirks cockily and I laugh at how dirty he is. He doesn’t have to say anything for meto know he loves that he was the one to take my virginity.
“This isn’t going to be enough,” he says. “Why don’t we take a shower?”
When I grin, he laughs. “You’re going to be sore, baby. Just a shower.”
“We’ll see,” I say in a sing-song voice, climbing out of bed and skipping to the shower. We both know Ethan can’t say no to me, and what I want is for my husband to make love to me again in the shower.
TWENTY-TWO
ETHAN
“Let’s go in here!”Nevaeh points to the tattoo shop. After spending the afternoon in bed, wrapped around my wife and having room service brought up for a late lunch, she insisted we get out and explore. We’ve spent the last hour or so checking out the fountains and people watching. Nevaeh loves to watch people and how they react to each other. She giggles when they kiss and makes up stories when they’re in a heated discussion.
“You going to get another tattoo?” I ask, walking in behind her. She’s dressed simply in a pair of khaki skinny jeans and a netted see-through gold shirt with a white tank top underneath. The shirt shows off her perfect tits and curves, and the jeans mold to her plump ass. All I can think about is the next time I’m going to get her underneath me. Resisting her in the shower took an ungodly amount of strength, no matter how hard she tried to convince me. But I wasn’t about to hurt her. She might not be sore yet, but she’llbe feeling it tomorrow, and I wasn’t about to add to that. We have our entire lives to be together…
But even as the thought surfaces, a large lump forms in my throat. Forcibly, I swallow it down, refusing to think about just how long I might have with Nevaeh. I’m not going to go there until I speak to her doctor myself. I wanted to ply her with a million questions last night when she told me about her brain tumor, but I held back, not wanting to upset her. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice, she was worried about marrying me, knowing I’ve already lost my daughter and Kelsi. But what she doesn’t understand is that just a single day with Nevaeh is worth the heartbreak I would feel if I lost her. I’ve spent the last twelve years keeping my emotions locked away, but I can’t do that with her. She’s the other half of me. ThemoreI was scared of. I can’t be me without her, but more importantly, I don’t want to be me without her.
“I’d like to get the quote from our rings,” she says, stepping up to the front counter. The gentleman greets her and she explains what she would like. He tells her he can do that now if she can give him a few minutes to draw it up.
“I’d like it done as well,” I tell him, sliding my arms around Nevaeh from behind and resting my chin on her shoulder. I kiss the side of her neck and she tilts her face up to smile at me.
While we wait for the guy to come back out, we sit on the couch. Nevaeh cuddles into my side while looking through the various photo albums filled with different drawings, every once in a while asking me what I think about the drawing. While we wait, I focus on Nevaeh. The sweetness of her scent, the craziness of her hair, how soft her skin is. I’m worried what will be waiting for uswhen we return, what the doctor will say. But I need to be strong for her. She needs me to be strong for her. With Felix and Logan being locked up, I’ve told Rosco to hire a company to move our stuff to my house. When we return, we’ll go straight there.
“What do you think?” Pete, the tattoo artist, asks, showing us the designs. He’s drawn up a more feminine version for Nevaeh, and something more simple and masculine for me. I would’ve preferred to go to Forbidden Ink, but I must admit the guy did a damn good job.
“I love it,” Nevaeh squeals.
“Looks great,” I add.
Nevaeh goes first, getting it inked on the inside of her wrist, and when it’s my turn, I get it right over my heart. She steals my phone because it has the better camera and takes pictures of both our tattoos, telling me she wants to always remember today. I can’t help feeling like her words have a deeper meaning, but I push it aside.
When we’re done, I pay the artist and then open the door for Nevaeh, so we can head back onto the Strip. I’m not paying attention, focusing on my phone—my bar manager is asking about a liquor order she needs to place—so when Nevaeh stops in her tracks, I run into the back of her. She stumbles forward, and I hook my arm around her waist so she doesn’t fall.
“Ethan,” she breathes, taking another step forward, off the sidewalk and onto the bicycle lane of the road. It’s raining heavily, and without an umbrella she’s getting soaked. But it doesn’t seem to bother her. Turning to face me, her head tilts toward the open sky, her eyes close, and the most beautiful smile appears.
And that’s when it hits me: her list. To dance in the rain. To be kissed in the rain.
In the short distance, a street performer is playing the saxophone. I reach out and take Nevaeh’s hand, and she turns her attention to me. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I bring her close to me. She glances up, confused at first, but when I start to sway us to the music, her face lights up in realization.
With the music in the background and the rain coming down on us, we dance in the street, with Nevaeh in my arms and her head against my chest. Life on Earth could be ending, the entire world imploding, but in this moment, with my wife in my arms, it feels as if it’s only the two of us.
When the song comes to an end, I pull back slightly. “Thank you for the dance,” I tell her, pushing her drenched hair off her face, before I frame her cheeks with my palms and cover her mouth with mine. With our tongues swirling around each other, we kiss until Nevaeh shivers against me.
“Let’s get out of here, baby,” I murmur against her lips. “Go back to the hotel and get warmed up.”
Once we’re back to our room and showered, I notice she’s not as animated as she was earlier. A few times, she squints her eyes, telling me she’s fighting a headache. She doesn’t want me to know, though—doesn’t want to sour the day—so I let it go.
While we eat our dinner, she pulls out her list from her luggage and smiles softly as she crosses out all the items we’ve done. “I only have a few left.”
“Like what?”
She looks over her list. “Go skydiving, visit another country forfun, tell my mom how I really feel, make a difference in someone’s life, go in a hot air balloon, go skinny-dipping…”
“That’s it?” I ask when her voice trails off, knowing there’s at least one more.
“Um…” She glances at me with a slight frown marring her features. “Become a mom.” She shrugs, like it’s not a big deal.
“You will become a mom,” I tell her. “In some way, shape, or form, you will.”
