I grab a beer from a cooler and head into the living room where most of the action seems to be happening. As I walk in, I stop dead in my tracks and take in the scene around me.Several of my teammates are relaxing on the furniture....with some random chick blowing them.In the living room.While two dozen people are cheering them on and Shivel is calling out things like "Thirty seconds boys! Suck harder girls! The title is on the line!"I want to pull my eyes away from the scene but I'm so stunned by what I'm watching that I can't. One by one, my eyes take in each of the contestants before they finally land on the dark hair I was hoping to see. But not like this.Tiffany.Her hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail and her eyes are closed in concentration as she sucks and licks Nate Funderlings's cock. Her cheeks are sucked in, showing how hard her pull is. One of her hands is holding onto him, quickly stroking in time with movement of her mouth. The other is massaging his balls.My h
An hour later, I'm sitting alone on the balcony at Mack's place, waiting for Sasha to either pass out or get bored. We're taking a cab, but I can't leave her here alone. We do some crazy shit, but for the most part, we try to watch each other's backs.I watch as my whiskey swirls around in my glass. But all I can think about is the look on Rowen's face when Mack declared me the winner. It was a mixture of shock and anger. Those looks I can handle. I've seen it all before as people flit in and out of our circle of friends. It's the disappointment that I can't let go of.Which I don't understand at all. I've never claimed to be anything other than what I am. I'm not here to snag a player as a husband. I've never strived to become a WAG. I just like partying with the guys and I love sex. Period. The end.So why does Rowen's opinion matter to me at all?The door to the balcony slowly slides open and I down the rest of my drink, assuming Sasha is finally ready to call it a night. I put the
"It was really beautiful. That's what I remember the most. Everywhere we went was full of architecture and different kinds of terrains, different oceans. My dad would be busy with team stuff so when we weren't at a game, my mom always made sure we would tour the city we were in. She would always find some way to make it educational. We would visit museums and learn about the art. Or we'd tour a historical ruin and talk about what life was like hundreds of years ago. Or we'd visit the ocean and talk about sea life.""So she home schooled you?""No. I still went to school during the year. She just felt really strongly that there was a whole world of opportunity and experiences out there to explore and wanted to make sure I didn't miss any of it.""Sounds like it was an amazing childhood.""It really was," he says wistfully, staring off into space as he remembers. "My favorite trips though where when my dad was playing in Dublin. We'd always take an extra few days to visit my grandparents
Exhausted, sweaty, and we all stink. But for the first time, I don't feel like I have one foot in the grave after practice. My body must have finally pushed passed that plateau I've been struggling with. It feels good to keep up more.I trail in behind the others, throwing my jersey in the giant laundry cart on my way by. I can't imagine being the person who does laundry around here. Practice clothes are disgusting. If it was me, I'd be tempted to set the whole cart on fire on a daily basis.The locker room is loud. When a few dozen sweaty athletes all start throwing gear around, the noise level definitely goes up a few notches. I almost don't hear Christian over it all."Did you ask her out?""What?" I ask as I strip off my cleats. "Who? What are you talking about?""I seem to remember a conversation we had a couple weeks ago about a certain sports producer who was catching your eye." I can feel my face start to flush. I had forgotten about the conversation. Not about what I had lear
"How do you make a strawberry shake?"I look up from my computer and smile. I'm totally engrossed in researching stats of some of the contenders for this year's Football Hall of Fame. But that little voice is always able to tear me away from the most interesting research. And this isn't interesting at all. I swivel around in my chair and look the brown-haired cutie in the eye. "I don't know. How do you make a strawberry shake?""Put it in the freezer!" Ashley covers her mouth and starts laughing at her own joke."That's a good one," I say with a smile. "So what's our category?""Fruit jokes. Your turn."I lean back in my chair and pretend to think really hard before answering. "Got one," I say with a snap of my fingers. "What is a vampire's favorite fruit?"She narrows her eyes at me momentarily before surprising me with the answer. "A neck-tarine.""How did you know that?" I ask, fake shock on my face. Truthfully, I rarely know a joke she hasn't already heard, which means she always
"Um, hi. Tiffany?" The voice on the line sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it."Yes?""This is Rowen. Rowen Flanigan?"My heart starts pounding and a feel a smile stretch across my face. "Hey, Rookie. How are you?""I'm good. I hope I didn't catch you in the middle of something important." He sounds kind of nervous, which is strange because he has always come across as quiet before, but not usually nervous. Of course, we've only interacted a handful of times so I guess I can't really make that judgment.I lean back in my chair. "I'm just at work.""Oh shit," he says. "I totally forgot you would be working today. I forget not everyone has rotating hours like me. I can call you later.""No, no!" I say quickly, afraid he's going to hang up. "I'm just doing some research right now. I'm not in the middle of anything pressing.""Oh. Okay. Can I ask what the research is on?"I relax back into my chair and smile again. "I'm researching stats on Football Hall of Famers. The list of this
I've only ever been in the northern states or Europe at the end of winter/beginning of Spring. Needless to say, the weather this time of year in Houston is like nothing I've ever experienced.It was warm, temps in the seventies, the entire month between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The week after Christmas? It dropped to the thirties and all of a sudden I was in the holiday spirit. But it bounced back and I have to admit, winter has been really pleasant compared to what I'm used to. No blizzards. No frigid, bone chilling wind. While I'm not looking forward to a hundred and ten degree temperatures with ninety-five percent humidity in August, this time of year, I understand the appeal of Houston. "You realize it's seventy-two degrees out."I look at Tiffany, as we walk away from The Grove, where we just ate the best hamburgers I've had since moving to Texas. "I know.""Don't you think it's a little too warm to wear that beanie?"I smile and tug it down over my ears. Nervous habit, I gue
She shifts her body so she's facing me. I immediately miss the feeling of her thigh resting on mine. "The television markets are ranked on how big your demographic is. For instance, New York City has the largest population in the country so they're ranked number one. Los Angeles is ranked number two. Most people, when they first get out of college, start in a really tiny market like Lubbock or Amarillo. They're both ranked well into the one hundreds.""How many markets are there?""Over two hundred. The larger the market you work in, the more you get paid, the more sports teams there are, the better the stories and opportunities. So while you may start out in a tiny market making minimum wage, the goal is to get a big market where there are bigger perks and maybe even national attention.""So where is Houston ranked?""Last time I looked… it's number eight.""Holy shit," I exclaim. "That's really good!"She nods excitedly. "I know. My first television job is a full hundred and fifty ma
The snick of the lock unlatching when I wave my key fob in front of the door is the first real sign that life is going back to normal. Well, as normal as life can be after a new little human has come into the world. But as I step through the door and into the newsroom, I realize nothing has changed. The scanners are still squawking. Reporters are still making calls and typing. Televisions still glow with every local station and CNN ready to be monitored. The only difference is the person at the assignment desk."Hi Tom," I greet as I grab a huge stack of mail I'll need to sort through upstairs. There's too much to go through down here."Tiffany." He tips his head at me and goes back to his business. Tom took over for Caleb when he moved upstairs. He's a little older than everyone else in the newsroom. His hair and neatly trimmed beard are almost gray. He's pleasant enough, just sticks to himself. We definitely don't have the same kind of rapport Caleb and I use to have.That also mean
Rowen makes sure we're all settled before kissing me on the top of the head and throwing on his sweats. "What do you want to eat? My mam brought bangers and mash.""I'll leave that for you," I joke, knowing it's his favorite. "But do we still have any of that grilled chicken salad? I don't know why but it sounds really good.""Yep. I'll go grab it for you."The last three months have been an adjustment, but overall, it's gone really well. Cace is a great baby, but I didn't expect anything less with him being Rowen's child. Well, that's not exactly true. A part of me always remembered Ryan is his grandfather, so I know there's some ornery in there waiting to come out. But for the most part, he's very docile. Cries when he's hungry, fusses when he's wet, but otherwise even-tempered. And my in-laws have been wonderful. Sure, the men argue all the time about the safest way to hold the baby or the best cleaning products. Denise and I just laugh at the ridiculousness and let them hash it ou
"Keep doing that," I moan, grabbing Rowen's hair and pulling him closer to my core. His tongue still does magical things to my lady parts and today, he's going to town. Licking, nipping, and sucking as he inserts two fingers inside me, hitting just the right spot. "Oh, that's it. Right there… ohgod…"My orgasm hits me fast and hard, just the way I like it these days. He continues to suck on my clit as the waves overtake me, riding me to that sated feeling I love. But he's not done yet.As soon as I've come back down to earth, he kisses up my body, paying special attention to the scar that now mars my abdomen. When I look at my stomach, I see flabby skin that hasn't tightened up yet and a knife wound. But Rowen tells me it's beautiful. That it's a reminder of the sacrifice I made to give him the best gift he's ever received - our son. Coming from anyone else, I'd say they were full of shit. But coming from Rowen, I know he means every word. Because of it, I still feel beautiful. It al
"I know you'll be here when you can, Mom," I say through FaceTime on my phone. "Really, all we're going to do for the next few weeks is sleep and eat anyway. Maybe bathe."Stroking the top of my son's head, I watch as he suckles on my breast. Yes, the dull pain of breastfeeding is there, but that doesn't take away the surreal feeling of being a new mom. It's amazing."I know." My mom sighs. "I'm just mad at myself. Of all the times to fall down some steps and break an ankle, this is the worst."I giggle lightly. "I still can't believe you did it at the gym.""And right after my kickboxing class too! I had just shown everyone what a badass I am, and three steps took me out.""Any muggers with ill intentions better beware of running into you in a back alley. Unless there are stairs involved." "Well, hopefully in the next few weeks, the doctor will clear me for travel. Then I'll be on the first plane there.""Sounds good to me." Baby Cace squeaks and pulls away from my breast, nuzzling h
The thoughts are overwhelming. I've never been this happy in my life, and I've only seen him for a split second. Lifting my head, I look around trying to catch another glimpse. Apparently, I'm not as subtle as I think I am."Would you like to see your son? You can go over there."Nodding, I stand up and follow the person over to a small table where my son is lying down, clearly unhappy by being poked and prodded. I don't blame him. I wouldn't like if all my glory was on display in front of these strangers either."Can I… can I touch him?" I ask tentatively, not sure what I'm allowed to do right now."Absolutely," the person says. "And talk to him. Babies like familiar voices."Slowly, I get closer, still in awe that I'm looking at my son. My son. It feels like I'm walking through a dream. Reaching down, I touch his tiny hand which immediately stretches and grabs my finger. The contact makes me suck in a breath. He's real. This is real. It's not a dream at all."Hello there, mo mhac. I'
I have dreamed about this day for months. Thought about every scenario on how it could happen. Planned for any situation. Prepared myself in every possible way.Except this one.Not one part of me anticipated I'd be standing in the hallway of the hospital wearing drab green scrubs with a matching surgical cap, waiting to join my wife in an operating room. And yet here I am, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more nervous than I've ever been in my life.It's not just the operation. Yes, that is my immediate concern. As much as I like Dr. Hermann, he's getting ready to cut Tiffany open and pull our son out through a gaping wound. I'm sure there's more to it than that, but it basically boils down to that, and it's scary. What if he cuts the wrong part and he can't stop the bleeding? What if he accidentally cuts my child? What if she gets a major infection? The horrific possibilities are terrifying.Taking a breath to refocus my thoughts, I try to remember all the positives. Tiffany won't
I can practically feel his surprise when he shifts, situating us face-to-face. Thankfully, my doctor and my father-in-law have started chatting again, so Rowen and I can have some privacy. "Tiffany, this is just a change in the play. You of all people know how easily it can happen. I know this isn't soccer, but it's not that different. We go into every match with a plan, but sometimes it doesn't go like we expected. There's an injury or a new goalie." I smirk at his reference to the issues the team had early in the season. "The objective is always the same, but how we get there doesn't matter as long as we do. It's the same thing here. It doesn't matter how he gets here as much as it matters that it happens safely for both of you."I sniff again, but my tears have all but dried up. "We've been deflected."He nods and smiles at me. "Exactly. It's a change of play. But in the end, when we're holding him and taking care of him, we'll forget about everything except that we won."I chuckle
A low murmuring pulls me from sleep. I know it's only been a couple hours, but I feel so much better than I did. Damn that epidural for being as amazing as everyone said it would be.Peeling my eyes open, I roll slightly onto my back to see Dr. Hermann and Ryan chatting like old friends. A few seconds of eavesdropping and I finally catch the source of their newfound connection - Ireland. Apparently, Dr. Hermann spent a summer backpacking through Europe and caught a couple games when Ryan was in his prime and playing in front of his hometown fans. I'm sure the tales are tall right now, but at least their relaxed chatter means nothing wrong is happening on my side of the room.Glancing around, I finally catch sight of my husband who is sleeping soundly. I'm glad to see him getting some rest. He's been trying so hard to be strong for me. It's not gone unnoticed. But at last count he'd been awake for thirty hours. It was wearing on him."Ah, iníon sa dlí, yer awake."Ryan steps toward me a
Another eight hours. Another one centimeter dilated. Almost. I may be rounding up out of my own feeling of desperation. This entire experience is not at all like I expected. Not that I knew what was supposed to happen. Sure, we'd taken a birthing class one Saturday, but that was months ago when our schedules allowed us both to be there. And it never told us what would happen if Tiffany's body refused to do what it should. At least Tiffany's sleeping now. About four hours after the Pitocin began, she started crying, saying she couldn't do it anymore. She'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours and had been in some form of labor for over half of it. Plus, once the drugs kicked in, her contractions went from being painful to downright excruciating. It didn't take much convincing for her to finally decide to have the epidural. But it did take my Mam physically moving me out of the way to help her through all her fears - fear of a needle in her spine, fear of the drugs hurting the baby,