I snuggled back into the cradle of his body while his arms wrapped around me tightly. He buried his scruffy face against the nape of my neck and I sighed contentedly. We fit perfectly together, but then again we always had-his big spoon nestled up against my little spoon.
“It’s your turn,” he rumbled against my skin with that deep morning voice I would always drink in.
“No,” I argued half-heartedly. “It’s always my turn.”
“But you’re so good at it,” he teased.
I giggled, “It’s one of my many talents, pouring cereal into bowls, making juice cups. I might just take this show on the road.”
He laughed behind me and his chest shook with the movement. I pushed back into him, loving the feel of his hard, firm chest against my back. He was so hot first thing in the morning, his whole body radiated warmth.
His hand splayed out across my belly possessively and he pressed a kiss just below my ear. I could feel his lips through my tangle of hair and the tickle of his breath which wasn’t all that pleasant first thing in the morning, but it was Grady and it was familiar.
“It’s probably time we had another one, don’t you think?” His hand rubbed a circle around my stomach and I could feel him vibrating happily with the thought.
“Grady, we already have three,” I reminded him on a laugh. “If we have another one, people are going to start thinking we’re weird.”
“No, they won’t,” he soothed. “They might get an idea of how fertile you are, but they won’t think we’re weird.”
I snorted a laugh. “They already think we’re weird.”
“Then we don’t want to disappoint them,” he murmured. His hand slid up my chest and cupped my breast, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You are obsessed with those things,” I grinned.
“Definitely,” he agreed quickly, while continuing to fondle me. “What do you think, Lizzy? Will you give me another baby?”
I was getting wrapped up in the way he was touching me, the way he was caressing me with so much love I thought I would burst. “I’ll think about it,” I finally conceded, knowing he would get his way-knowing I always let him have his way.
“While you’re mulling it over, we should probably practice. I mean, we want to get this right when the time comes.” Grady trailed kisses down the column of my throat and I moaned my consent.
I rolled over to kiss him on the mouth.
But he wasn’t there.
My arm swung wide and hit cold, empty mattress.
I opened my eyes and stared at the slow moving ceiling fan over my head. The early morning light streamed in through cracks in my closed blinds and I let the silent tears fall.
I hated waking up like this; thinking he was there, next to me, still able to support me, love me and hold me. And unfortunately it happened more often than it didn’t.
The fresh pain clawed and cut at my heart and I thought I would die just from sheer heartbreak. My chin quivered and I sniffled, trying desperately to wrestle my emotions under control. But the pain was too much, too consuming.
“Mom!” Blake called from the kitchen, ripping me away from my peaceful grief. “Moooooom!”
That was a distressed cry, and I was up out of my bed and racing downstairs immediately. I grabbed my silk robe on the way and threw it over my black cami and plaid pajama bottoms. When the kids were younger I wouldn’t have bothered, but Blake was eight now and he’d been traumatized enough in life. I wasn’t going to add to that by walking around bra-less first thing in the morning.
He continued to yell at me, while I barreled into the kitchen still wiping at the fresh tears. I found him at the bay windows, staring out in horror.
“Mom, Abby went swimming,” he explained in a rush of words.
A sick feeling knotted my stomach and I looked around wild-eyed at what his words could possibly mean. “What do you mean, Abby went swimming?” I gasped, a little out of breath.
“There,” he pointed to the neighbor’s backyard with a shaky finger.