Though I finished the post-season two weeks ago when the Waves lost in the Division Series, I had team commitments that kept me from traveling to our offseason home on the North Shore. Like in previous years, I insisted Alex head out as soon as the Waves finished games, so she could maximize her training.
Juggling two elite athlete’s schedules takes some serious time-management skills, but Friedrich is a wizard at coordinating every second of the day. The World Surf League Championship Tour runs roughly the same time as baseball season, but we’ve been able to make it work with an excessive amount of air miles and hours-long video calls.
I was also smart in contract negotiations to work in a mandatory four-day leave in anticipation of Alex’s Olympic debut last summer. Though I wasn’t able to be there the whole time, I was able to watch her cinch her position in surf history. The only moment that rivaled watching Alex win silver for the United States was when the Waves won their second consecutive World Series Championship the season we started dating.
Alex plops down onto the sand beside my towel, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring at the surf. She’s been quiet lately, more so than usual, but I know my wife will talk to me when she’s ready. Unlike me, who will careen off a cliff without a second thought, Alex needs time to mull things over.
I lean over to press a kiss over the crook of her neck. “I’m so in love with you.”
Alex captures my cheek in her palm, her eyes tracing my face before she brings her mouth to mine. Our leisurely kiss feels brighter than the Hawaiian sunshine warming our skin. My wife giggles when I grip her hip, dragging her astride my lap before deepening the kiss.
“Tenny, wait,” she manages before I suck on her lower lip, silencing her.
Alex melts into me, just like she has every time I’ve kissed her over the years. I’ll never get enough—of this, of her. Even if we spent every waking second together, I’d never get tired of Alex. As it stands with our crazy schedules, I need to capitalize on moments like this every chance I get.
Several glorious minutes pass before I let my wife catch her breath. Her hazy eyes stare, unfocused, at my lips, her delicate collarbones rising and falling. I trace my fingertips along the sapphire tennis necklace I bought her as a wedding gift. After a post-game confession that she’s always been slightly jealous of mine, I coordinated with my jeweler to make one for Alex.
Now, even when she’s barefoot, she has a little sparkle.
My wife grips my jaw to set another kiss over my lips before she leans back with a sigh. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, supporting her. My thumb draws unhurried circles in salt water that still clings to her skin.
“What is it?”
Alex wrinkles her nose, her gaze shifting to the tropical foliage behind me.
The corner of my mouth kicks up before I kiss that tender spot beneath her ear. “I’m here when you’re ready.”
It takes several moments before Alex’s eyes meet mine. In the meantime, I revel in the sensation of her ribs expanding against my forearms, of the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. It’s impossible not to press a few chaste kisses over her cheek, temple, and to the top of her shoulder as I wait.
“I’m tired.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Do I need to remind you again of why?”
Alex rolls her eyes, causing a grin to light up my face.
She sags with a long, noisy exhale. “I mean I’m tired of our lifestyle. Of always being in different places.”
My lips graze hers, helpless not to. “We have the next two months together. I’ll be in your space so much that you’ll be counting the days until the tour starts.”
“I’m not going to get tired of you,” she argues.
“Sure you will. I’m going to start each day with an ABBA singalong. Then I’m going to ask you entirely too many questions.” I give her a light squeeze. “Constant touching, obviously. I also think it’s time I brought back the nicknames—spicy nugget, lovezilla, cuddlebugger. Then, I’m going to steal all the blankets at night and unabashedly wrap myself into a burrito.”
Alex’s bright laughter is the stuff of dreams.
“All of that, huh?”
“More,” I tell her, leaning closer. “That was just off the top of my head. Imagine how irritating I can be after some thought.”
My wife shakes her head, her smile softening. “You’re never irritating.”
“What about when I leave the seat up?”
Her lips twist. “Yeah, that’s annoying, especially when I’m half-asleep and fall into the toilet in the middle of the night.”
“Luckily, it was only that one time. And I made up for it.”
Alex’s gaze hazes over as she remembers exactlyhowI made up for one of the most classic husband mistakes.
