The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs 3)

“No. Not at all.”

“This makes five! FIVE CHILDREN! We’re done.” She shakes her head. “I’ll deny you.”

“You cannot,” I drawl in i

mpressive Le Pew.

“I’ll divorce you. I will. I’ll refuse you and divorce you. You aren’t all that. Self-made, superstar athlete with an amazing penis.”

“I’m sure you can do better.”

“Piece of cake,” she murmurs. “Please, baby, promise me, after this one, we’re done.”

“I promise.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am.”

She takes great pains in cleaning us up before opening her purse to apply more gloss. I watch her carefully line her lips before my phone pings. I lift the screen and chuckle.

“Dante sent us a progress report.”

“Let’s see it.” Clarissa leans in, smiling as I hit play. The video is set to Jeopardy music, and Dante stands to the side of the screen, only half his face showing, his eye rolled up to the ceiling of our kitchen as Parker stands at the stove, a box of mac and cheese next to the pot, our daughter in her arms, our other two boys crying in jealousy at her feet. She looks perplexed as she tries to juggle them. Dante did several shots this way, his eyes always up as if he’s at his wits’ end while Parker moves in fast forward around his steady frame, doing her best to keep up. We laugh hysterically until the video ends with Parker passed out in the recliner. The footage then picks up as Dante takes over, pacifying all three of his younger siblings before wrapping Parker in a blanket. We shoot off a collective text of ‘Good Job,’ and he replies with an eye roll emoji followed by dollar signs.

“That boy.”

“He needs a raise,” I say, chuckling.

“He’s such a good kid,” Clarissa murmurs. “We hit the lotto with that one.”

“With all of them,” I murmur, kissing her neck.

We pull up to the entrance of the hotel just as she shuts her compact. When the car rolls to a stop, I pull her to me and crush my mouth to hers, ruining her efforts and hearing her protest a split second before she melts into my kiss. The door opens as I steadily devour her, not giving a fuck who catches sight of us, and she lets me. I’m obsessed with my wife.

“Troy,” she murmurs, looking up at me with a lusty gaze when I pull away, “haven’t you had enough?”

“You know the answer to that. Come on.” I make sure everything is covered as I gently escort her from the limo. The driver gives us a grin as I pull her into the breezeway of the hotel. We’re only a few steps past the door when a man approaches with his wife trailing behind him.

“Hey, Troy? Can I get your autograph?”

Clarissa smiles, making small talk with the wife as I usher the guy to the side of the busy walkway and take the pen from him.

“Killer season, man. Next year is our year. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, hope so.” I scribble my name as I’ve done thousands of times and still can’t believe this is my life. It’s been a crazy ride from that blue rental house to get to this point.

“Thanks, man,” the man says as we take a quick pic before he’s on his way.

“I’ve never gambled before,” Clarissa says as I walk her through the barrage of noise in the casino.

“Let’s fix that.”

“No way.”

“Come on, baby, loosen the purse strings a little.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”