“I’ll make some for you too,” Brody says in retaliation as I scoot from the bed. He knows full well warm banana is the one food that makes my stomach pitch. I’m retching at the very thought before I even make it off the bed.

“You just try it, pal, and you’ll be wearing them on your face.” And with that lovely threat, I escape bedlam for the sanctity of our half bathroom, shutting the door just as Thor and Jon Snow race in, hope in their eyes and tails rotating like helicopter blades.

I take a nice deep breath and lean over the vanity, inspecting my face in the mirror. The right side is swollen and red. Awesome. Today is going to be great. After a mere ten seconds of peace the door opens, injecting chaos into the little sanctuary. I actually think I might cry.

“Please,” I whimper, the sound drowned out by screaming girls and barking dogs.

“Mommy!” Avery shouts, because apparently I must be hard of hearing. “Daddy said we could wear our ballerina dresses to football!”

I grip the edge of the vanity, trying to find my happy place. It proves elusive. “No, you’re not wearing those to the football.”

Hadley interjects. “But Daddy said—”

“—we could,” Avery finishes.

Brody steps in behind the girls, taking up every inch of space with his wide frame. “I said no such thing.”

“Oh? What did you say?” I ask, looking at him via his reflection in the mirror.

The corners of his lips quirk up. “I told them to ask you.”

My eyes narrow. “You couldn’t just say no?”

He takes on the expression of the walking wounded. “And break their sweet little hearts?”

“Mommy!” Hadley stomps her foot and frustration has me grinding my teeth. Why do I always have to be the bad guy? “I want to wear—”

I give both girls a firm look. “No.”

Hysterics ensue. Brody ushers them all out of the bathroom. “Cartoons are on the television. Go downstairs and I’ll be down in a minute to make your pancakes.”

Appeased for the moment, they leave, their chatter and dog barks slowly fading. I let out a deep sigh and look again at Brody through the mirror. He steps up behind me, arms sliding around my waist and hands resting on my lower belly where a tiny bump is burgeoning. He rubs it lovingly as he lands a kiss on my shoulder. “How’s our little guy doing in there?”

“You don’t know it’s a boy. I’m only twelve weeks along.”

“It’s a boy.” His lips touch my shoulder again, eyes lifting to look at me in the mirror as he trails kisses up toward my neck. I tilt my head, giving him access without a second thought. “God wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave me alone in a house full of estrogen.”

“That’s what Thor and Jon Snow are for.”

Brody’s hands rise from my belly, roaming up over my ribcage until he’s cupping my breasts. They grew a full size after the birth of the twins and much to my delight they didn’t shrink again. I have cleavage. “But we never win anything. We’re a sucker for you girls with your pretty hair and scheming eyes.”

I turn around, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. Brody grips my hips with his big hands, drawing me toward him until our hips press flush together. “And I’m a sucker for you.”

The emotion in my eyes makes his own soften in response. “Aren’t you glad you waited for me all those years ago?”

I bite down on my lip, the distant pain surfacing like it always does when I think of how he almost died. The months following were the best of my career, and some of the worst of my life. The media circus eventually faded away, the next tantalizing story waiting around the corner.

Our team won the FIFA World Cup, and I gained a new kind of attention. Fox Sports did a big feature on me, from where I came from to where I ended up, portraying me as some kind of survivor. It didn’t just make me cringe, it somehow made me into the darling of professional soccer.

Interviews, soccer camps, and sponsors took all my time. Wherever I went I was signing soccer balls and jerseys. It was surreal and time consuming, and I buried myself in it. We don’t get paid anywhere near what male soccer players get, so taking advantage of every opportunity was a priority. I became the face of Chapstick lip balm and Nike sportswear. My face was everywhere, and when I began my contract as a forward with Houston Dash, they welcomed me with open arms.

But I did it all alone. Brody had his own hell to deal with, pushing me out of it. It’s something I’m still struggling to get past. My husband recovered, eventually leaning on me for support. He built a life with me beside him. We created a family. We forged a future that’s brighter than any star shining down from the night sky. The price we paid for it was high, but our reward is incomparable. Brody proved to himself that he was worth all of it. I’ve never been prouder, happier, nor more in love with this man than I am right now.

My eyes begin to swim, blurring Brody in front of me.

“Don’t,” he says. “You waited when I had no right to ask it of you.” His hands cup my face, thumbs dashing away the tears when they spill over and down my cheeks. “And when you came back to Houston, you didn’t just bring yourself, you brought everything because you and the girls, this little guy…” he rubs my little bump, glancing down at it before staring into my eyes “…hell even the damn dogs, you’re all my world.”

“You’re ours too, Brody.”

He ducks his head, his lips meeting mine. They linger sweetly, but heat follows soon enough. My mouth opens beneath his and our tongues tangle.

“Pancakes, Daddy!” Hadley shrieks up the stairs.

Brody ends the kiss and draws back, pressing his forehead against mine with a deep growl of frustration.

I can’t help the chuckle. “You better go. Your world needs you.”

Brody spins me around and slaps my ass before giving it a loving grope. “Tonight,” he vows as I lean inside the shower, flicking on the taps.

I turn, slowly pulling my tank top up and over my head, dropping it to the tiled floor. It leaves me standing in nothing but a simple pair of hot pink panties.

His nostrils flare. “You don’t play nice.”

“I don’t,” I reply, smirking as I pile all my hair up into a knot on top of my head, “but if you can’t handle the game, then get the hell off the field.”

Brody runs his gaze down the length of me before flicking back up, his eyes intense and hot. “Never.”

Brody

I jog down the stairs to the kitchen, the image of a half-naked Jordan still imprinted in my vision. I love my two little girls but they seriously need to work on their timing. I need to fuck my wife.

Soon, I tell myself. I wasn’t making empty promises when I told her tonight. My brother-in-law is arriving for his four-week annual holiday this afternoon and jetlag or not, he’s taking care of the twins. Nicky won’t mind. He adores the girls. They have him wrapped around their little fingers. Me, not so much. Our relationship has travelled a long and rocky path, especially after the hell I put his sister through, but the arrival of Hadley and Avery won him over. We’re a solid family unit now, and Jordan’s never been happier. Of course I like to think I have a lot to do with that. Making her happy is my number one priority, and I know Nicky sees that.

Usually his visits find us out on the back deck with beers in hand, manning the grill while arguing over the merits of football versus soccer, but not tonight. I’m whisking my wife away for a surprise night in the city at a fancy hotel. Dinner, a cabaret performance, and then me, and so help me god if she snores through the show like she did the last time I organized a night out, I’m going to cry like a fucking baby.

Thor and Jon Snow scramble when I hit the bottom step and the fight is on to see who reaches me first. Jon Snow wins and he treats the backs of my calves to little licks as I make my way into the kitchen.