Rob grinned and shook his head. “That was something to see, alright. I was watching the game with my boys. Have a good afternoon, ma’am.”
“Thanks. You, too.” I let my smile drop away as soon as the elevator doors closed. The ride up to our floor was quick, but I was still able to time two deep inhales and exhales the way Harmony had shown me to calm my pounding heart.
I burst off of the elevator as soon as the doors opened and pushed my key into the front door of the apartment. I shed my coat and bag and ran for the bathroom, unbuttoning and pulling down my jeans to check my panties. Nothing. My chest sagged with relief. No blood.
I pulled my pants off and headed into the bedroom to change clothes for a nap. A break from consciousness was exactly what I needed right now.
Checking my panties for bleeding had become a habit. Every time I looked and didn’t see any, the coiled tension inside me relaxed just a little. I knew this pregnancy was probably as doomed as the others, but until I saw blood, I was harboring a shred of hope.
I didn’t feel like I had a baby growing inside me. It was more like I had a chance at one. When I heard our adoption plans were moving forward, the same feeling took root in me. That maybe this could actually happen. This feeling wasn’t as jubilant as when I thought we were adopting. It was buried by a heavy mountain of anxiety and doubt.
The hope had taken root, all right, but it was precarious. It would’ve probably dwindled and died by now if it wasn’t being nurtured by Ryke. He was my hope’s water and sunshine. Every time he called and asked how I was feeling in a low, tender tone he didn’t let the other guys overhear, or let his hand slide over my stomach when we were snuggling in bed, a flicker inside me said this was still possible. Unlikely, sure, but not a done deal yet.
I was Jason Ryker’s wife, and I wanted to be a strong, resilient fighter like him. But hope was a dangerous thing after the deep, life-changing disappointment I’d been crushed by. What got me through was remembering that this wasn’t the end. We’d still be able to adopt. I could live through hell one last time by holding on to that knowledge.
For now, I had to survive the gut-wrenching, hourly worry that this would be the time I’d see the blood. I thought about it every morning on the way to the bathroom. When I woke up in the night, I reached between my thighs to check for wetness. Every day that I got through this nightmare made me think maybe I was a fighter after all. If this wasn’t a fight, I couldn’t imagine what was.
***
We were in the arena Ryke’s team played in. I’d gotten a glance of illuminated white ice before I tipped my head back against the Plexiglass wall that surrounded the rink. How many times had I seen my husband slam players against this wall and pummel them with his powerful body?
And now it was my turn. My only wish as he plowed himself between my spread thighs was that I could open them wider. It was bliss, being pinned against the wall and feeling him move in and out of me with force that I felt from my head to my toes.
My lips wouldn’t work to tell him how good it was, but he seemed to know. He went faster, harder, and the build of satisfaction rising inside me was perfect and deep. He didn’t say anything, either, but I felt my name on his lips and the wave of emotion flooding from him into me as he pulled back one last time. This would be it, for both of us. As soon as his hips flexed into me this time, I’d slip over the edge into sweet oblivion – the place only he could bring me.
I opened my eyes and threw the covers off. I was hot. Really hot. I figured it was just the warmth of my bed until I shifted and the throbbing between my legs reminded me of the dream I’d been having.
I shook my head and got out of bed. My libido had taken over my dreams lately. I was like a porn star on overdrive, even when I was awake.
Heavy footsteps going into the kitchen made me realize the noise of Ryke coming home had probably woken me up from my afternoon nap. I went into the closet, looking for pants, but then remembered it was Saturday and Mimi wasn’t here. More clothes were the last thing I wanted in my sweaty state.
“Hey,” I said to Ryke’s back when I walked into the kitchen. He was looking through the contents of the refrigerator.
“Hey,” he said, reaching into the fridge for something. When he turned and glanced at me, he did a double take, his gaze bouncing back to my bare thighs. I was wearing one of his old jerseys, which hung down past my ass but still left plenty to look at.
I eyed the lunchmeat and cheese on our kitchen island. “Want me to make you a sandwich?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
The tension between us lately was painful. Every time I thought of words to apologize for pushing him away, they seemed meaningless. Our phone conversations during the road trip he was getting home from had been short and polite.