Dr. Bromfield clicks a few times on his laptop. “I have four weeks from today available.”
After confirming the appointment and getting the paperwork Nevaeh will need to bring to the hospital, we say our goodbyes and head out. Nevaeh is quiet during the drive home. I ask her if she’s hungry, but she shakes her head. We’re halfway to the house when my mom calls and asks if we can come by and see her and my dad. She tells us she would love to make a special dinner to celebrate our marriage. When I tell her now isn’t really a good time, Nevaeh cuts in and tells her we would love to come by.
“I don’t want to hide away and mope,” she says when I hang up. “I only have four weeks.”
“It’s only four weeks until the surgery. You heard Dr. Bromfield. He’s performed this procedure hundreds of times. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“Things go wrong, Ethan. I’ve read up on the risks. I could bleed out, not wake up, wake up and be a different person, or have no memory, or no motor skills.”
“No more Google for you,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work, though, because she huffs and goes quiet. I know she’s worried, and will be until she’s through the surgery and recovering, but I’m not about to let her dwell on this for the next month.
“How about tonight, after we get home, we take a look at your list and see what else you have on it?” I hate that fucking list, but Nevaeh clings to it like it’s her lifeline, so if it will help lift her spirits and keep her mind occupied the next few weeks, then I’m all about it.
“Eh.” She shrugs noncommittedly while staring out the window. “Maybe.”
Unable to take another moment of her pushing me away, I swerve my car onto the shoulder of the road. Her head whips around in shock to see what I’m doing. I take note of where we are and pull into a corner parking spot that overlooks the beach, and put the car in park. It’s late afternoon on a weekday, so it’s empty.
“What are you doing?”
I press the button on the side of my seat until I have plenty of room in front of me, and then I pull Nevaeh into my lap. She’s wearing a black flowy skirt with a white lacy top. Since she removed her heels when we got in the car, she’s barefoot. Her skirt bunches up, and her thick, creamy thighs settle around me.
“Ethan,” she breathes, confused.
“I’m not going to let you shut me out.” I grab her chin with my finger and thumb and look her in the eyes. “This is your life, Nevaeh. Anything can happen at any time. We can get into a car accident and die. I can have a heart attack. You could be eating something and choke and your life is over.”
Her eyes bulge out. “I know that…”
“You can’t live your life checking off items on your list out of fear of dying. You have to live for you. Live every day like it’s your last. Live hard and love harder.” I yank her shirt down to expose her ink. “You got this tattoo, but you’re still not living. You’re just going through the motions. Life isn’t a list of items to check off.”
Fisting her ponytail, I pull her into me and swing the door open, taking us both out of the car.
Glancing around one more time, I make sure nobody is around before I drop Nevaeh to the ground and push her up against theside of the vehicle. With the way I’m parked the only people who could see us are those walking down the beach, and that’s only if they looked up here. The other side is full of large shrubbery, giving us privacy.
“Ethan,” she gasps, her head turning and her eyes meeting mine.
“Face forward, baby,” I demand, and she obeys.
“It’s time you start living, Angel. Time we start living.” I glide my palms up her silky smooth toned legs until I get to her cotton thong panties.
“I’m scared,” she admits.
“I know, but you can’t live in fear.”
I push the material to the side and, spreading her thighs, push two fingers into her heat. She moans loudly, and I chuckle. Who would’ve thought my wife would be so damn loud during sex?
“Ethan,” she breathes, “we’re in public.” I can’t see her eyes, but the way her face is moving from side to side, I can tell she’s looking around to make sure no one is watching.
“We’re going to do whatever is left on that damn list of yours that we can do,” I murmur into her ear, thrusting my fingers in and out of her pussy. “And along the way we’ll add a few of our own.”
I tug her panties down to her knees, then, unzipping my fly, pull my dick out. It’s already at half-mast, so all it takes is a few strokes and I’m ready to go. “And then you’re going to go in and get that fucking tumor removed. And once you’re healed, we’ll do everything else, and we’ll spend the rest of our goddamn lives adding to that list. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Now, I’m going to fuck you right here,” I tell her, reachingaround and pinching her nipple through her shirt. “Where anyone walking by can see.”
She groans at my words.
“And the louder you get, the harder I’m going to fuck you.”
