I laid kisses along the side of her neck, licking and biting as I went. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You’re so damn hot it’s unreal. Christ, I want you more now than ever.”
“Yeah, again, four kids kind of shows that! You’re insatiable, always have been.”
My eyebrows danced. “Wanna try for number five?”
I was deadly serious.
“Not a bloody chance!”
My break of laughter relaxed her. I knew she loved having kids, adored being a momma, but she kept telling me that three boys under the age of seven and a pubescent teenage girl was quite enough to deal with alongside being a full-time professor.
“Just so you know, though, I’m ready when you are. I want as many children as we can produce,” I said meaningfully. I loved having a huge family and would pop one out a year if I had my way. I loved being a daddy. It was the best damn thing in the world.
Those caramel eyes narrowed in jest. “You’re trying for your own football team, aren’t you?”
“Yep, and that’s a hell of a lotta kids. We need a strong offense, defense, oh, and the special teams of course…” Mol giggled and shut me up by smashing her lips against mine.
“Eww! That’s gross!” A high-pitched shriek stilled us both and we rolled our heads to the side, taking in the face of our disgusted, shocked daughter glaring at our compromising position.
If that Asher kid was back, I was gonna castrate the fucker.
Immediately straightening her hair, Molly went to move off my lap, but I held on tightly to her waist, whispering in her ear, “Do not move unless you want to scar our girl for life.” I knew the moment she felt it, my hardness, and she couldn’t help but blush as she kept still, hiding my… umm… awkward situation.
“What do you need, honey?” Molly asked, feigning normalcy.
Taylor shook her head in horror, her attitude still in place from before. “I’ve been calling for you both, but you never heard me. Now I can see why!” Molly glanced down at me and we had to force ourselves not to laugh at our daughters reprimand.
“Whatever. Look, you’re the main feature on the nightly news, I thought you’d wanna know. It’s about Daddy taking the QB coaching job at the Tide. And you too, Momma, ’bout you becoming a professor at UA, and that you’ve both taken positions at the same school. Said they’re gonna tell the story of your life or something.”
Molly turned to me and raised her eyebrows. “You know about this?”
I didn’t have a clue and shook my head in bewilderment.
“We’ll be there soon, princess. You go on back inside.” Taylor turned and ran back inside without looking back.
Molly immediately jumped off my lap and ran her hand across her forehead. “I wonder what they’ll be saying?”
Even after all this time, she hated being the center of attention.
I stood, fixing my jeans, and held out my hand for her to take. “Let’s go see, eh?” Clasping her hand in mine, we followed the path to the house and straight into the family room. Our four kids were lined up on the huge black leather sectional, their eyes glued to the screen. And Mol froze on the spot, a loving smile ghosting her lips.
When I turned to the TV, a montage of us was playing to the music “Hall of Fame” by The Script. It was all there, a reel of our lives: the kisses before the Tide games when we were at college… the two of us holding hands as we walked around campus… the kisses at the SEC Championship… Mol’s dramatic return at the National Championship… the Tide’s homecoming parade where I’d refused to let go of her hand… the NFL draft where I’d been first pick and proposed to my girl… our graduation day, hugging and laughing in our gowns… the paparazzi picture from the airport as we left for Seattle, all of our friends in the background, waving us off… my first game for the Seahawks and Molly sitting in the stands, cheering me on… shots of Mol over the years, pregnant with each of our four children… the many Superbowl wins and finally, me, a few months ago at the Centurylink Stadium, as they retired my jersey, surrounded by my wife and our four children. The montage ended with a simple script, the text reading:
“Welcome home, Romeo and Molly Prince.
Forever Roll Tide!”
The presenters went on to discuss the game plan for the Tide’s upcoming season and when I looked to our children—who were silently staring up at us—I realized Mol was crying. I was pretty choked up too.
“Momma, Daddy, you looked so young in those pictures,” Isaac, our eldest boy, said quietly. With his curly brown hair and glasses, he was the only one of the four who was just like Mol, with an IQ to match… a cute little geek through and through.
“We were young, little man,” I murmured, still staring at the commentators on the screen, but not listening to a word they had to say, my hand gripping almost painfully onto Mol’s. “It seems like so long ago yet weirdly, just like yesterday.”