Under the Table(63)
Zoey suggested that they run Paradise Cove the same way his grandparents had, by keeping it open for people they knew and loved. When he reminded her that he didn’t really know anybody, she lovingly reminded him that she had five siblings and he better get ready to be known.
Tristan gave Zoey a few more golf lessons. They used better discretion, but she would talk so dirty to him when he tried to instruct her, they still had yet to make it past the sixth hole.
As Zoey neared the house, she could hear the familiar sound of Aerosmith blasting. Tristan was enjoying his morning session of Rock Band, before guests started to arrive and things got hectic. She quickened her pace to get inside, hoping she wasn’t too late. Tristan had long since abandoned his leather pants, citing the heat. That didn’t hinder her desire to watch him put on the show, since now he did all his concerts shirtless. His golden tan and rippling muscles more than made up for it. He had let his hair grow longer again, which added to the overall rock star vibe.
She dashed past the artwork that adorned the hallways, still taking a second to appreciate her favorites, and found him in the great room, guitar in hand, whammy bar being shaken hard enough to break. He was biting into his lower lip, his face twisted in rock-’n’-rolling concentration. She stood as close as she could without him noticing her and watched, wondering for the umpteenth time just how she managed to get so lucky. She fisted sweaty palms against the skirt of her cotton sundress and enjoyed the familiar tingle that coursed through her.
As if he could feel her presence in the room, as soon as the song was over, he stopped and turned in her direction. He put down the guitar and smiled his way over to where she stood to give her a proper kiss.
“Good morning, Mrs. Malloy. You ready for some breakfast?”
He never did settle on a personal term of endearment to call her and she found out that the only thing better than hearing him call her Zoey was the way he had taken to addressing her since they wed.
They walked together arm in arm to their marvelous kitchen. Zoey pulled a plate of mangoes, papaya, and banana figs out of the fridge, but wrinkled her nose when he asked her if she wanted eggs. Tristan didn’t press her and pulled a box of Lucky Charms out of the pantry, setting it in front of her where she had taken a seat at the island. It was her current obsession, consuming bowls of it a day, sometimes pulling handfuls right out of the box.
“How about some cheese?” he asked. “A little bit of protein wouldn’t be a bad thing. We’ve got a long day ahead.”
“Swiss sounds good.” She brightened at the thought and popped a chunk of mango into his mouth as he passed her.
“You ready for today?”
Zoey laughed. “I know most of these people. I think the better question is, are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to get. Do you think they’ll like me?”
“Ruth and Blake have been singing your praises since the last time they were here. They’re not just going to like you. They are going to love you. But not nearly as much as I do.”
He rattled off his checklist. “The caterers will be here at ten to start setting up. Flowers show up at eleven. Your parents, brothers, and sisters arrive at noon and Blake’s mother at two. The bride, groom, and best man get in at four thirty, and I’ve got the cars ready to pick them all up. The maid of honor, of course, is already here.”
He stopped to give her one of his sexy wink-smile combos and added, “So is the flower girl.”
Zoey caressed her still mostly flat belly. “Excuse me, this could very well be the ring bearer.”
“I can’t wait to find out,” he said, moving closer and placing his hand over hers. “You feeling okay?”
She smiled warmly. “Never better.”
Higher forces and self-preservation are powerful things, Zoey had come to realize with a shock. After a spontaneous, mutually wild night when passion overruled protection, and as her cycle got later and her symptoms began to show, she didn’t fill with dread, like she had been so sure she would. She filled with indescribable wonder. But her views had started shifting long before then. There was so much beauty here, so much peace and joy, she thought it was a shame to waste it. When she told Tristan the news after having her suspicions confirmed, he curtailed any real excitement and instead sincerely started weighing their options, including his getting a vasectomy.
“If you want to stop at one, I can make sure you don’t have to face this kind of decision again,” he said, holding her gently in his arms, as if she’d suddenly become fragile.
It brought her to tears. There wasn’t a selfish bone in his body. A piece of his beautiful soul was already growing inside her, and there was only one thing she wanted to do.
“We don’t need to think about that right now,” she told him with shiny, red-rimmed eyes they both blamed on hormones. “And on the bright side, for the next six or seven months, we can have all the unprotected sex we want.”
“Yay! Unprotected sex!” He whooped, kissing her tummy then lowering his voice. “Good morning, little one.”
They’d been having unprotected sex daily and he’d been doting on her ever since, something she didn’t think was possible. He was already a first-class doter.
That day and that revelation struck her like a bolt of lightning. Her worries about having children were just another self-erected roadblock to detour her away from the path she was destined to travel. The path that led her to Tristan. And Tristan was her home.