“This one for a boy, and that one for a girl.” She points out two different names.
I think it over, putting them with the first names I picked. I smile from ear to ear at her. “It’s perfect, Thea.”
She tosses the book down on the bed and throws her arms around my neck.
I press my hand to her stomach. “Did you hear that, Baby Bean Kincaid? You have a name. Now we just have to find out if you’re a boy or girl.”
Thea
“Holy shit!” Xander looks over at me with a little smirk. I roll my eyes. “I’ll put a quarter in the swear jar when we get home, scouts’ honor.” I cross my fingers over my chest.
He chuckles, entirely amused. “So you like the place?” he asks as he pulls up the rest of the drive to the chalet.
The house is huge, much too large for two people to stay in for a weekend. The side of the house facing us is covered with windows, which overlook the stunning view of the mountains.
“It’s beautiful,” I say honestly. “Especially since there’s no snow.”
“We’re coming back when there is snow—I want to go snowboarding. We should bring everybody.”
“That might be fun,” I agree. “But I’m not snowboarding.”
He shakes his head at me and parks the truck. “You’d be eight months pregnant, so yeah, no snowboarding for you.”
I look down at my stomach and mumble, “Sometimes I forget the thing is in there.”
He laughs. “Thing?”
I wave a hand dismissively. “Thing. Alien. Bean. Baby. Whatever you want to call it.”
“If anything or anyone is an alien, it’s you,” he counters.
My mouth pops open for a retort, but I have nothing, because he’s right.
I’m definitely a species of my own, and I’m perfectly okay with that.
We hop out of the truck and Xander grabs our bag—he tried to get me to put both our things in one duffel bag so we wouldn’t have to contend with an extra bag, but I’m a girl and I need options so I shot him down. So, instead, I have my suitcase and he has a bag.
I’m thankful he didn’t try to blindfold me this time. I might’ve karate chopped the stupid thing out of his hand.
We head up the stairs to the front door and Xander mutters to himself.
“I forgot the code.”
“Are we locked out then?” I ask.
He shakes his head, putting down our bags. “It’s in my email on my phone. Give me a second.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and presses a couple of buttons. “Got it.”
He pushes the numbers on the electronic keypad and the door dings before he swings it open.
He grabs our bags and steps inside. I follow, my head on a swivel with my mouth agape.
“This place is fucking amazing!” I cry, and he glares back at me.
“Quarter,” I mumble. “You know, you can’t expect me to change overnight. I’m an intelligent, classy, lady that says fuck a lot so give me a break.”
He shakes his head. “You read that in a meme.”
“Memes are my life,” I retort, as he sets our bags by the stairs. “So are McFlurrys, Cheez-Its, Nutella, and currently lemons—please tell me we remembered to pack lemons.”
He covers his face with his hands. “Dammit.”
“Swear. Jar.” I smirk, rubbing it in that he’s not Mr. Perfect after all.
“I’ll go get you some lemons,” he mumbles. “There’s a grocery store not far from here.”
“I’ll go with you.” I raise my hand to volunteer like I’m in school and he needs to call on me to pick me. “I’m starving. Me and the soul-sucking life force inside me need to eat.”
He gives me a funny look and then busts out laughing. “You’re too much sometimes—scratch that, all the time.”
I shrug. “I have to keep things interesting. Otherwise, it gets dull.”
“I’m going to take our bags up to our room and then I’ll be back.” He adjusts the baseball cap he wears backward on his head. He’s dressed simply today, in a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt, but he still looks hot as fuck.
“Quarter!” I shout, but then laugh because I realize it was a thought and I didn’t say it out loud, so it doesn’t count.
Xander comes back down the stairs. “Did you say something?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. Maybe the place is haunted,” I reason.
He laughs. “Not likely. Let’s go.” He places his hand on my waist, guiding me back to the front door.
We get back in the truck and Xander turns it around, heading out of town.
I’m starving, since I couldn’t keep my breakfast down this morning.
Xander’s right, there’s a grocery store close by. He barely has the truck stopped before I’m hopping out and running in, because fooooood.
I grab a shopping cart and wheel it through the sliding doors. Xander jogs up to me, not even out of breath a little bit. “Thea,” he scolds. “Don’t do that.”
I shrug. “You caught up to me in like five seconds.”
“The truck was still moving.” He narrows his eyes on me.
“I’m hungry,” I defend.
He shakes his head and quiets, accepting defeat.
I roll the cart over to the lemons and get twelve because I’m going to need them to make it through the weekend. From the lemons, we move through the store to the snack food. I grab a box of Cheez-Its and a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and then I get some kind of queso dip that looks good enough to dip my finger in.
“Ooh, you know what else would be great?” I ask rhetorically. “Pickles!”
I charge through the store and Xander groans, running to keep up with me.
I find the pickles and stop the cart, admiring the choices. I finally pick one and unscrew the lid, pulling one out and taking a bite.
“Thea!” Xander admonishes.
“Imsohungy,” I mumble around the food in my mouth.
“We have to buy it first,” he hisses, taking the pickle from me and returning it to the jar.
Some guy on the same aisle chuckles. “Pregnancy, man, it turns our wives into savages.”
I hiss at him … So, yeah, he’s right. Total savage.
I finish chewing the pickle in my mouth and then …
“No.”
I take off running, my eyes scanning for the restroom.
I manage to spot it at the front of the store and push a poor little old lady out of my way to get there.
I push open the swinging door and burst inside the bathroom.
Thankfully, there’s an empty stall. I make it just in time as the small amount of pickle I ate comes up. I’d felt fine and nausea came out of nowhere—like it usually does.
There’s not much in my stomach, so it’s not long until the heaving stops.
I stand and make my way to the sink, splashing some water on my face.
“Thea? Are you okay?” Xander pushes his way in the bathroom—not caring that it’s women only.
“Get out,” I hiss. “You’re not allowed in here.”
“You’re my wife, dammit, and you just took off, and I had to make sure you were okay. So people can just deal with it.”
A woman comes out of one of the stalls, she’s a little older, probably in her fifties and she smiles as she goes to wash her hands. “My husband was just like that,” she tells me. “They only get worse the further along you get.” She points to my stomach. “Good luck.” She offers us a smile before heading out.
I turn back to the sink and splash water on my face. Xander stands tall and imposing behind me, but he looks almost boyish the way he’s dressed and with the baseball cap.
I bite my lip, looking at him in the reflection.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns.
“Like what?” I ask breathlessly.
His dark eyes flash in the mirror. “Like you want me to fuck you.”
A little gasp escapes my throat. I can’t find the words to
remind him of the Swear Jar and our promise, because frankly, he’s right, that’s exactly what I want.
One minute I’m puking my guts up, and the next I want my husband to bend me over this counter and fuck me.
Pregnancy is weird, man.
My whole body tingles all over, my nipples tightening, and then the door to the bathroom opens and a girl squeaks when she sees Xander and the spell is broken.
“You can’t be in here,” she tells him, glaring at him like he’s personally offended her. “Wait … Oh, my God, you’re Xander Kincaid from the Colorado Rebels, right? Can I get a picture?”
I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, sure.” He shrugs, because he’s too nice to say no, like I would.
She pulls out her phone from her pocket and holds it out for a selfie. “Eh,” she groans at the angle. “Would you mind?” She holds her phone out to me.
I raise a brow. “Excuse me?” I glare at her phone like it’s contaminated.
I know I’m being rude, but I just puked my guts up in a grocery store bathroom, I’m still hungry, and this bitch wants a picture with my husband, so I can’t seem to find it in myself to be agreeable.
“Here, I’ll do it.” Xander intercepts the phone and holds it out, smiling and snapping a couple of photos of them.
The girl takes it and hugs him, smiling from ear to ear before running out of the bathroom and apparently forgetting why she was there in the first place.
“Don’t be mad,” Xander pleads. “I can’t say no to a fan.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I’m blaming my pregnancy hormones on this irrational bout of jealousy.”
His lips lift into a small smile. “You’re always jealous, Thea.”
I frown, because he has a point there.
I shrug. “I don’t like sharing.”
He laughs, entirely amused. “You’re not sharing. I’m smiling for a picture.”
“Eh.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Can we not fight about this? I’m still hungry.”
“Aren’t you afraid you might get sick again?” he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side.
I narrow my eyes up at him. “I sneeze and have to vomit—so I’m going to have to take the risk.”
He laughs, pushing open the bathroom door. “Whatever you say.”
“I really wish I could suck on one of those lemons,” I mumble as we head back to our abandoned shopping cart.
“Not until we buy it,” he warns.
I roll my eyes. “Such a spoil sport.”
He grins back. “Someone has to keep you in line.”
Sadly, he has a point there.
We arrive back at the cabin—as Xander calls it, but seriously it’s a freaking mansion and calling it a cabin doesn’t do it justice—and unpack the groceries we bought. We got way too much, considering it’s Friday evening and we leave Sunday afternoon. Thankfully, we don’t live that far away—about three hours—so we can easily bring whatever we don’t eat this weekend home with us.
Xander unpacks the Cheez-Its and I grab them and the Nutella.
“What are you doing?” he asks, the bag crinkling as he unpacks the items.
“Watch and learn, kemosabe.” I unscrew the lid and pull off the seal on the Nutella, then open the box of Cheez-Its and break open the plastic bag. I dip a Cheez-It in Nutella and moan. “So good. You want one?”
Xander gags and shakes his head. “No, thanks. That looks gross.”
“It’s not,” I assure him.
“I don’t trust your cravings.” He shrugs and starts putting things away in the cupboards.
I shrug. “More for me,” I mumble, and dip another Cheez-It in the mixture.
I sit on the metal stool in front of the island.
The kitchen is a modern marvel with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. The cabinets are a dark wood, darker than the wood floors. The walls are covered in reclaimed wood and siding and the ceiling is open up to the second floor, where it’s then tin with crisscrossing wood beams. The staircase is L-shaped and stands near the front door. Across from that is the family room, which has a stone fireplace, large couch, and two leather ottomans. There’s also a wall in there of solid books. I haven’t gone upstairs yet to check out the rooms, but I’m sure they’re just as lavish. Right now my priority is food and hopefully keeping it down.
Xander puts all the lemons in the bowl on the counter and then crosses his arms, bending to lay them on the counter. “You good here? I have to go check on something.”
I nod, completely absorbed in my food.
He straightens and jogs for the stairs, and I hear him pound up them a moment later.
“Just me and my Nutella, just the way I like it,” I joke to myself, scooping out a dollop on my finger and licking it off. I look down at my stomach. My bump is still pretty small, but it’s definitely there—and the maternity clothes are much appreciated … well, I didn’t actually end up buying maternity clothes, I just got regular clothes in a bigger size because they were cuter. “You’re going to make me fat,” I tell the Bean. “And not just because you’re going to get big, but because you make me eat all the things.” I reach for another Cheez-It and pop it into my mouth.
I hop up and get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. It’s still warm since it’s barely been in there five minutes, but I’m thirsty so I don’t care. I swallow down about half the water, and then I look for a knife so I can slice one of the lemons.
It takes a minute of drawer opening before I find one. I slice into the lemon and cut it into little quarters. I eat the insides like someone would an orange, moaning the whole time. I don’t cringe a bit at the sourness. It tastes refreshing and delicious.
Xander bounds down the steps and into the kitchen and cringes at the sight of me. “How do you eat those?” he asks.
“I’m pregnant,” I say slowly, like he forgot.
He shakes his head. “Well, when you’re done, get your pregnant ass upstairs.” He points over his shoulder to the stairs.
“Quarter,” I warn him.
“We’re on a roll today—we’re going to pay for kid two’s college soon.”
“Kid two?” I echo. “How many kids do you want?” I ask, my voice spiking.
I don’t know why, but in the last three years the topic of how many kids we wanted never came up. Yes, we talked about kids, but it was always in the vague sense of somewhere in the future we were going to have a baby. Since we both knew we wanted to have kids someday, we never ended up talking about how many.
He pulls out the stool next to me and sits down. “I want five.”
I choke on my tongue … or maybe that was a bit of lemon.
“Five?” I shriek, trying to catch my breath. “No. No way in hell am I pushing out five kids from my vagina. Nope.” I shake my head. “That’s insane. Why would you want five kids?” I press a hand to my heart and find that it’s racing. “I think I’m sweating,” I mumble more to myself, and pull my shirt away from my chest, using it to fan myself.
He shrugs. “I like kids. I want a big family. I grew up with two siblings and … I don’t know, I always wanted more.”
“You’re insane,” I squeak. “I think I might pass out.”
“You’re not going to pass out, Thea,” he says sternly. “How many kids do you want?”
“One,” I answer, and he frowns. “Two max. A boy and girl.”
He raises a brow. “If you have two you could get two boys or two girls, you know.”
“Well, then, at least they’ll have each other,” I reason.
He shakes his head. “How have we never talked about this before?”
“Planning to leave me so you can breed someone else?” I ask, picking up another lemon slice and raising a brow.
“God no, Thea,” he snaps, clearly irritated that I’d say such a thing even though it was a joke.
“Good, because I’d cut off your dick and shove it down your throat if you left me.” I wink, trying to b
ring some levity to the conversation.
He huffs out a breath, that I know is a laugh he’s trying to mask. “We’re going to have to learn to compromise on things, you know?”
“I know,” I sigh.
“Four,” he answers.
“What? Four kids instead of five?” He nods. “No way. Maybe three—maybe.”
He smiles slowly. “How about, instead, we agree to make it through the first one and go from there?”
I bite my lip, thinking his proposal over, and nod. “Deal.”
“Deal,” he echoes, shaking my hand and grinning, his eyes bright.
I think I just got pregnant again from that look alone—five kids might be out of my control.
Xander
We shake on it, and the deal is done.
Thea doesn’t know it now, but I’m confident we’re going to have to more than two kids. Once this baby is here, she’s going to fall in love and want a house full of babies, I know it, and I’m going to be more than happy to give them to her.
She wipes her crumbs off her hands and stands up. “What’s upstairs?”
I smirk, looking her up and down—because she’s my wife, and she looks cute in a pair of shorts and a tight white top that stretches over her growing belly.
“You’ll see.” I stand and lead her up the stairs.
Her eyes scan the cabin as we go upstairs—I splurged renting it for the weekend, but I wanted to check the place out, because I think maybe, if Thea’s on board, I want to buy it.
I want a place for us and the baby to be able to go, and our friends and family too. Sometimes you just need to get away from the craziness and this place allows for that. It’s quiet, and in the middle of the woods.
In the summer, there are pools and spas on the main property, and in the winter you can go snowboarding.
Sounds like heaven to me.
Normally, I’m the more practical one, while Thea’s not, but I know in this instance, chances are she’s not going to agree with me.
I lead her down the hall and to the master bedroom. It’s large, not as large as ours at home, though, with an attached bathroom. It has double doors leading out onto a deck that looks out back to a lake. Thea hasn’t even seen the lake yet.
When Constellations Form (Light in the Dark Book 4) Page 15
