Infinity(45)
I watch her walk into the living room, looking like a porn star. Her tits are huge, and further accentuated by the tight maternity sports bra that she’s wearing. I don’t know if my cock can take four more weeks of this dick tease until we can resume showing how much we love each other. Charlie and I need the physical connection to know that we’re okay.
Her stomach is already flat again—she doesn’t agree—and she’s lost her pregnancy weight, thanks to her aversion to my cologne while she was pregnant. She argues that the scale is wrong, because she still feels fat.
Discreetly, I adjust my semi-hard cock, and ponder if I might have to “make a call” while she’s feeding the baby. This six-weeks-without-making-love-to-my-wife thing sucks.
Charlie flops down in one of the oversized chairs in the living room and unzips the front of her sports bra, freeing the beauties. I involuntarily lick my lips, which causes her to shoot me a disgusted look. “They’re for Elizabeth.”
I shrug. I’m a guy with a hot wife that now has tits crafted by the gods—so sue me. That’s my only excuse. I stand up and carefully bring Charlotte to her, feeling a sense of loss as I place her in Charlie’s outstretched arms. And because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, I reach down and cop a feel, giving her my panty-dropping half-smile. She rolls her eyes as she adjusts Charlotte on her breast. Two can play her little game of manipulation—Dallas Cowboys PJs indeed.
“Today’s the day,” she says. “Let’s make this official. Elizabeth Colin McKinney. Great name. We can call her Liz, Lizzy, Beth, Eliza, Liza, Libby, Betty—she’ll have tons of nicknames.”
She’s chosen Elizabeth because she feels like she owes it to Liza. My kid’s name is too important to choose it because it settles some arbitrary debt.
I flop back down on the couch across from her and lean back, getting extra comfortable, preparing for the epic battle of wills. “While those are all great points, Doctor Collins, Charlotte Jane McKinney is a beautiful name. Named after her mother’s nickname, blessed with the middle name of my gorgeous wife. Perfection!”
I watch her try to open the lid of her water bottle with one hand. I rise to my feet to help her when she raises her eyebrows and drops her chin. “Sit back down. You’re going back to work soon. I’ve got to figure out how to do stuff one-handed.” Then, she smirks, and adds, “You’ve spoiled me.”
She places the water bottle between her knees and uses her left hand to twist off the cap. She holds her water up, imitating my now famous pose when I won the MVP trophy. I can’t help but laugh at her flattery attempts.
“Okay, so we are at a complete impasse. My mom and dad named us after president’s kids. We could take that route,” she suggests.
I mentally go through their names in my head; Chelsea Clinton, Caroline Kennedy, Julie Nixon, Amy Carter. Then, before I can stop myself, I flash her my shit-eating grin. It’s the full smile that makes my eyes crinkle. “What about Jenna, then?”
If looks could kill, Charlie would have just crucified me on the couch. She picks up one of the throw pillows from her chair and hurls it at me left-handed. I must say, she’s got quite an arm on her. “Speaking of Jenna, would you like to write the thank-you note for the congratulations flowers, or shall I do it?” She bats her long eyelashes as a sugar-coated grin spreads across her gorgeous face.
“I’ll have Jenny send her a form thank-you note.” I make a dismissive gesture, making sure she knows that this subject is closed.
The flowers Jenna sent were obnoxious, over the top, and stunk. The card read, “All my love to the new little family, Aunt Jenna.” I intercepted them before they were delivered to Charlie’s room, and had them disposed of.
Jenna’s still trying to get back in my good graces after the stunt she pulled last year. Inviting my wife and paparazzi to our meeting at the hotel pretty much moved Jenna to my “I don’t give a fuck” list. Although, Aiden did convince me not to take her house and car away from her. His reasoning was sound. Everything she owns, I’ve purchased for her. If I had taken it away, I had nothing to hold over her head to keep her quiet. We moved all the monetary assets that I’d given her into a trust. She plays nicely for the next five years, she gets it all, plus a hundred-thousand dollar bonus. Hopefully, it’s incentive enough.
Without missing a beat, I get us back on the important subject at hand: naming our daughter. “Should we go through the baby-naming book for the billionth time?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I never want to see that dog-eared thing again.” Then she pauses. Her lavender eyes grow wide, and a twinkle appears. “If I can’t have Elizabeth Colin, what do you think about naming her after Aiden?”