Infinity. (Infinity Series) (17 page)

I decide to forward the link to the article to Brad and Charlie with a note. “Ah… young love.”

I leave it at that. They can interpret my message any way they choose.

No more news for me. I open my word-find game app and lose myself for more than an hour, searching for words that I don’t know the meanings of.

****

God, finally the first away game of the season is over, and it was brutal. The lonely hotel room and missing my family was the cherry on top of a shit game. We lost. I sucked. I couldn’t seem to scramble away from the defenders and find a receiver, even if the other team had removed two players from the field. The plane ride home was so fucking quiet it was scary. No one sat near me. I think my team might be scared of me.

All I want is for my wife to be naked in the hot tub, waiting for me. It’s the thought that kept me from losing my fucking mind after the game. I’ve come to just expect that when I pull into the driveway after a game, my girl will have the hot tub turned on, a champagne bucket of iced-water bottles, old country music playing over the outdoor speakers, and she’ll be in some sort of string bikini contraption that’s for my viewing pleasure only.

As I turn into our neighborhood, my dick gets hard in anticipation of seeing her. I can almost feel her surgeon’s hands working the knots out of my sore muscles. Staring down at my over eager cock, I chuckle. Who says that the sex goes downhill after kids? Geez, we took six weeks off for her to heal and then picked up right where we left off. That’s because we were made for each other.

Bertha gives me a moment of protest and then decides to behave herself. I finger my wedding ring in anticipation of seeing Charlie in just a few seconds. I’m giddy, a little boy on Christmas morning who’s hoping against hope for a new bicycle.

But, as I walk through the backyard gate, I don’t hear Merle Haggard or Willie Nelson. The water isn’t bubbling in the hot tub, and it’s empty. Like there’s water in it, but no hot blonde in a bikini. Then, I panic. What if something’s wrong? With her? The baby?

I unlock the backdoor like a lunatic and it flies open, hitting the stopper and catching me on my shoulder. The pain barely registers. I jog through the house as much as my sore ankle will let me, and throw open the bedroom door, hearing my pulse pounding in my ears. Trying to calm my racing heart, I grip the door handle, and have to catch my breath.

She’s in bed sound asleep. The lights are completely off. The curtains are pulled so the only light in the room is from the bedside clock, and the baby monitor power light, indicating that it’s on.

Once I’ve recovered from my initial panic and confirmed that both my girls are okay, the disappointment sets in. Hell! Pancho didn’t even get up to greet me. So much for him being man’s best friend.
We lost. I played for shit. And no naked girl in the hot tub.
Fuck my life.

I walk back to the kitchen and grab a couple of bottles of water out of the refrigerator, and take a seat at the kitchen table.

What did I do after football games before Charlie? It’s been so long that I hardly remember what life was like before she stepped on the elevator in Los Angeles. I think that I might have soaked in my bathtub, filled with Epsom Salt. Did it work to keep me from getting sore? Shit. I really don’t remember. I quickly down the first bottle, and toss it toward the garbage can with my right hand, but I miss. I’m a lefty through and through. I take the lid off the second one, and drink it more slowly. My house is so quiet. Was it this quiet before Charlie? Once again, I don’t remember.

What about when I was married to my first wife? What did we do after games? I keep drawing a blank.
What did we do? 
Then it hits me. We fucked like bunnies in heat.
God, how could I have forgotten that? 
Oh, yeah. The girl asleep in the other room has hijacked any part of my life that she wasn’t in, and filled the gaps with everything that makes her the one for me. I guess my time without her was so meaningless that my brain cells don’t care to store the knowledge.

Maybe the reason that I always had so many people at my house was because I didn’t like this level of quiet. It’s a halfway decent theory. What did Charlie call my house when she first moved in? A country club? A home for wayward boys?

That makes me smile as I slump back in the kitchen chair. My ribs hurt like a motherfucker. Taking a breath is becoming difficult. I know that if I don’t do something, I’m going to be worthless at practice tomorrow. I decide to soak in the Jacuzzi bathtub for old time’s sake.

When I stand, and take the first step on my right leg, pain shoots up to my hip. It’s been almost two years, and it still aches every damn day. The doctors, including Doctor Collins, say that this is about as good as it’s going to get unless I want to quit playing football. Not an option. All my Super Bowl win did was give me a taste for more gold rings.

Grabbing two more water bottles, I limp towards our room.

Charlie doesn’t stir as I drag my pathetic self through the bedroom and into the bathroom, shutting the doors behind me. Hobbling to the bathtub, I turn on the water as hot as I can stand it and add the lavender-scented salts. Next, I line up my water bottles on the edge of the tub and pull another one out of the mini refrigerator that we keep in the bathroom. My water bottles have been shoved to the side, and replaced with bags of breast milk and a half-drunk baby bottle. I smirk and shut the door.

Just as I’m sinking into the tub of water that’s so hot that I can feel my skin pinking, Charlie opens the master bathroom doors and shuffles in, immediately shielding her eyes from the bathroom light. She’s obviously been in a deep sleep. Her hair’s a rat’s nest, and her face is pillow creased. But she’s still the most beautiful girl in the world.

“You can turn the light off, babe.”

She mumbles a thanks and hits the light switch, but not before I get a good look at her. She’s got on one of my white T-shirts that barely covers her bare behind. I briefly wonder what happened to her panties, but frankly, I don’t care enough to ask. They just get in the way.

The street lamp outside filters in through the glass bricks over the bathtub, casting just enough light so I can watch her shuffle towards me, taking a seat on the ledge. She leans back against the shower stall and pulls her knees up to her chest.

Now, it’s very evident that she has no underwear on, and my dick stands up to get a better look.

Speaking first, I say, “Sorry, if I woke you. I tried to be quiet.”

She folds her arms over her knees, and rests her head on her elbow, looking sideways at me. I can tell that she’s exhausted. “I was trying to stay up until you got home, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Sorry about the loss.”

I’m not in the mood to discuss football, so I ignore her condolences. I move my hands in the water, feeling the waves of heat tumble over me. “I missed you in the hot tub.”

“Yeah, about that,” she sighs, “Ainsley spit up all over me after dinner, and I had to bathe both of us. I just didn’t feel like getting wet again. I’m sorry. I’ll be waiting for you after the next game.”

“No need to apologize, beautiful girl.” I lean forward, and run my wet hand over her shin. “You’ve spoiled me.”

Her mouth turns up in a beautiful pleased smile that meets her eyes. “I’m glad that you think I spoil you. I know having a baby has changed so much of our lives. Our focus. But, I don’t want to lose our time for just the two of us.” She picks her head up, and says in a quiet voice, “I missed you.”

I lie back in the hot water, noting that it’s already less painful for me to take a breath. Hot water, or Charlie’s presence? I’m not entirely sure. “I missed you too. Shit, I didn’t sleep last night. For some reason, even though we never shared a room when you came to road games, just knowing that you were in the hotel, and I could get to you, if I needed, made me able to sleep. Last night I was fucking miserable.”

She giggles her precious Charlie laugh and says, “It’s because we had to sneak around to be together. Kind of like we were horny teenagers still living with Mom and Dad. I liked all of our hotel sex.”

I smile at the memory of some of our stolen away-game moments. It never occurred to me that they would be coming to an end once we became parents. “Do you think that you’ll be able to come to any away games this season?” I almost hate to ask the question because I dread the answer.

She lets out a sigh, and her lavender eyes look up at the ceiling before she speaks. “I don’t know. As long as I’m breastfeeding, I don’t see how I can come without bringing Ainsley. Then, do I really want to haul our baby on a commercial flight, bring all of her gear? And who watches her during a game? I’m not leaving her with just anyone. So we’d have to bring Amy with us, and Amy really likes having her weekends off…”

I throw my hand up, stopping her. “I get it. Doesn’t seem possible this year.” I contort my long limbs in the bathtub so I’m able to slip under the water. My blood is boiling. She told me no, that she’s not coming to my away games. I know it isn’t rational. I know her reasoning is perfectly logical and makes sense, but damn, it doesn’t make it any less easy to hear. She’s my breath, my soul. I need her with me.

When my head pops out of the water, she’s gone. I look around the bathroom and don’t see her anywhere. “Charlie,” I call.

No answer. I assume that she went to check on Ainsley. I look down at my dick, and we’re on the same page. She might anger us, but it’s been two days since we had any attention. I bet that I can talk her into some we’ve-been-apart lovin’. Maybe? God, I hope so.

I lean forward and start draining the water when she comes into the bathroom holding Ainsley, who’s covered in baby vomit. “Oh no. Is she sick?” I ask, like an idiot. It’s obvious that she is.

“I think that it’s just teething, but her bed is a mess.” My dick deflates at her words. It’s time to be a dad.

I climb out of the tub, and grab my seven-month-old squirming angel that is the perfect mix of her mother and me. I refill the bathtub with much cooler water, and remove Ainsley’s messy pink footed pajamas and her diaper, tossing the latter in the special garbage can.

“Thanks,” Charlie calls over her shoulder as she walks out of the bathroom. “I’m going to strip her bed.”

I press Ainsley to my chest with my left hand, and slide us both into the warm water. She coos and grabs a fistful of my chest hair, giving it a tug. It makes me wince, so I gently open her little plump fingers and extract my hair. She smiles at me as if she wants me to see her swollen gums. I kiss her white-blonde hair that replaced her dark hair which fell out when she was a couple of months old. She’s so gorgeous. She’s got her mother’s lavender eyes, and my olive complexion. I hope that she’ll have Charlie’s long legs and perfect ass. At the moment, she’s a chunky little thing. Fat rolls on top of fat rolls. I love every cell of her body, but damn, I wish she’d quit raining on my alone-time with her mother.

I slide us a little deeper into the water and reposition her on my chest so she’s facing away from me. She slaps the water, giggling each time water droplets sprinkle her face. Using my right hand to cup water, I pour it over her head, careful to avoid her eyes. She slaps the water double time, letting me know that she likes it.

Grabbing the baby soap and pink and white polka-dotted washcloth, I begin to bathe her. Once I have her backside, I lay her back against my chest so I can wash her tummy, arms, hands, and legs. I assume that her feet are still clean from her earlier bath.

“I missed you, baby girl,” I coo to her. She looks up at me with Charlie’s eyes, and pats my face with her chunky hand. I capture it with my lips, and pretend to eat her fingers. She loves this game, and squeals with such delight I want to do it again and again.

Charlie walks into the bathroom looking haggard. Dark circles surround her bloodshot eyes. Her shoulders are slumped. “Go to bed. I’ll take care of Ainsley,” I encourage her.

She walks over and plants a kiss on both of our foreheads. “Thanks. I appreciate the help. By the way, I hope you know that the article you sent me was nothing.”

The picture of Brad and Charlie walking so close is not defined as
nothing
by me, but now is not the time to discuss their relationship. I just smile and lean forward for a goodnight kiss, which she brushes across my lips.

Ainsley and I watch her change her T-shirt, still neglecting underwear. Damn her. I’m going to be tempted to wake her up once Little Miss is back in bed.

We play in the bathtub for about ten more minutes before I get us both out, drying her using a pink hooded-towel that makes her look like a kitty-cat. I show her the reflection in the mirror, and she claps with delight.

Gently, I place her on the floor of my closet while I quickly towel-dry, and throw on some boxer briefs. Then I scoop her up in her kitty towel, and head upstairs to put her back to bed—hopefully for the night.

Pancho, who’s shown no interest in this tonight, follows us upstairs as if to make sure that the little person gets back in bed.

I put a fresh diaper on her, and pick out my favorite pair of footed jammies. Clay gave them to us. They’re pink and read, “Better looking than Daddy.”

Because I’ve missed out on two nights of bedtime stories and snuggles, I rock her in her pink-and-green striped chair and read her
Goodnight Moon
. Before the end of the story, she’s fast asleep in my arms.

I hold her for longer than I should. If Charlie were here, she’d admonish me that I’m spoiling her, and she shouldn’t be rocked to sleep. But, I’m her dad, right? Isn’t that what dads of baby girls are supposed to do—spoil them rotten?

My ribs scream in protest as I place her carefully in the crib, so as not to disturb my sleeping angel. Ignoring them, I lean over the bed railing to give her one more kiss.

By the time I hobble to the bottom of the stairs, I’m not sure that I can walk anymore. My leg is so swollen around the ankle that I can’t flex or point my foot. Instead of going to bed and snuggling with my wife, I make my way to the freezer and grab a package of frozen peas.