Page 24 of For Her
Oh.
I’ve been feeling the baby kick for some time now, but Jack hasn’t. He’s been a patient guy and occasionally asks if I can feel our little boy moving, and I tell him yes, but I try not to make a big deal out of it until he can get in on the excitement.
“I mean, he just kicked but… you felt that?” I ask as the corners of his mouth follow his eyebrows’ lead.
Jack smiles, but before he can answer, the baby moves again, making us both gasp.
“I can feel that,” he nods, making water droplets fall from his hair. “It’s incredible!”
His hand moves between us so he can press his palm against my belly.
“That’s our boy,” he muses out loud as the baby kicks at his hand. “Are you cock blocking me already, Buddy?” he asks him lightheartedly.
“You have to actually initiate sex for someone to cock block you,” I remind him with a dubious smirk, before turning and walking out of the shower, dripping wet and naked, crooking a finger at him over my shoulder.
“Oh… damn,” I hear him groan behind me. “Just… uh… just one minute, Baby. I’ll be right with you.”
Jack
“C’mon, c’mon, pick up,” I grumble as I hear the ringing tone.
“Yo,” Tyler greets when he picks up.
“Quick, sex-”
“I told you, perfectly safe,” he cuts me off, sounding bored.
“I know it’s safe, but is it… weird? Like can the baby-”
“No, the baby can’t feel what’s going on and he can’t see your dick.”
Yes!I do a fist pump and rush myself and my painfully erect cock towards the bedroom.
“Jack? Jack, you there…? Where’d you go, man? Hellooo…”
Ten
Jack
What the fuck? How is it I can remodel our entire kitchen, fix anything that’s leaking, yet here I am, sweating bullets, putting together a crib with actual instructions? I wipe my forehead with the back of my arm and take a deep breath as I refocus on the stupid diagram, but am blessedly given a break when my phone starts buzzing on the window sill of the soon-to-be nursery. I get to my feet and hover over it, seeing it’s a video chat request from Ron. I swipe to accept.
“Ron, what’s happening?” I ask as I start walking out of the nursery and towards the stairs. I need a beer.
“I just heard from David,” he begins, referring to the band’s PR agent. “I’ve got some… let’s call it, unsettling news.”
I freeze, staring at my phone screen with my hand idling while reaching inside the fridge.
“What?” is all my genius brain can manage to conjure up.
“Is Maze around?” he asks, his brow looking pinched in a way that tells me this is in no way good.
“Yeah, she’s doing yoga in the other room.”
“Well, maybe I should tell you first, actually. It’s about Eli.”
FUCK!
“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me right now,” I say on an aggravated exhale. He’s talking about our former PR agent who went after my wife in the hopes of sleeping with her. He even went as far as to trap her in a bathroom with him, something that I’ve never stopped wanting to pound the shit out of him for. I thought we finally had this fuckwad in our rearview. “What the fuck is going on?” I press. “Was he released? Did he appeal again?” The latter has happened several times, and it actually has little effect on us anymore because it always goes the same way: denied, more of his money down the drain, his legal team shrinks some more, and usually at least one more woman comes forward. It’s sad and comical at the same time how he can’t seem to learn.