Hot Stuff

I shove my head into her neck and breathe deeply. “What is it about you that makes that seem like a normal thing to say?”

She snorts. “Maybe because it is. UTIs are the work of the devil, Garrett. We have to unite against them if we have any chance of succeeding in their defeat.”

Thankfully, I know better than to say this out loud, but all I can think about is the fact that Bethanny never, in twenty years together, ever mentioned anything as real and down-to-earth as a UTI. Hell, she never even mentioned her period.

It’s not that she needed to complain or something, but the female body is a fact of life. I wish she’d have given me a chance to normalize it for her. A chance to normalize it for our daughter.

Sarah, thank God, though, took the power into her own hands. She just started her period this year, but she’s never shied away from asking me for things like pads or tampons or a heating pad for cramps, and I hope she never will.

“So, what did you have in mind? What can we do to put you back to sleep that doesn’t involve the work of the devil?” I ask.

Lauren makes an adorable pursed-lip smile. “I guess we’ll have to settle for talking.”

I place a kiss to the corner of her mouth, whispering, “That’s good too.”

I feel her lips curve up against my own.

“What do you want to talk about?”

She considers me for a moment, and I think of all the possibilities. Questions about what drove me to be a firefighter. Soul-searching about how I can stand to be away from my family so much. Facts about my divorce or my ex or anything that could be a red flag for her as she moves forward in a relationship with me. But when she opens her mouth, by God is it not what I’m expecting.

“I don’t think I’ve been a very good fish parent so far.” I blink, and she continues to speak. “At first, I was feeding him too much. I mean, he’s really fat, you know, so it seemed like he needed a lot of food. But then his water kept getting all gross and mildew-filled, and he didn’t look so good, so I decided to cut back on the food. But now, every time he sees me, he begs me with his little fish eyes to stop starving him to death.”

I laugh a little—I can’t help it—and her eyes narrow. “What?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. What did you want to talk about? World peace? A proposed economic plan for the United States government?”

I laugh, and honest to God, I think I fall a little bit in love. It’s early and talk of love is crazy—I know it—but there’s just something about Lauren that brings a part of me back to life that feels like it’s been long dead. I go back to her topic instead of teasing her anymore. “How do you know what he’s saying with his eyes?”

“The soul connection, Garrett. The soul connection.”

“Can you maybe use the soul connection to implore him to tell you how many pellets he needs?”

She stares at me seriously. “He can’t speak, Garrett. He’s a fish.”

I laugh before taking my hands away from rubbing her arms to throw up my hands. “Okay, I’m confused.”

“We only speak on a spiritual level.” She rolls her neck and turns away from me before muttering under her breath, “Though, I may have spoken to him a little while you were gone.”

“And what did he say?”

“He’s a fish,” she snaps again through a smile. “He can’t talk!”

“Right,” I say, sweeping her back into my arms and putting my lips to hers again. I touch and tease them with my tongue until they open, and she lets me snake it inside.

She tastes like heaven.

“Come on, Dr. Lauren,” I pull away to whisper. “Let’s go back to bed. I solemnly promise to use my powers for good over evil.”

She laughs. “Why do I feel like I should just call in a prescription for antibiotics now?”

With one smooth move, I sweep her up and into my arms and carry her back to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us.

And we don’t talk about UTIs anymore.

Or anything else, actually.

We definitely stay awake, though…

January 27th

Lauren

“Alexander,” I hear Garrett say into the phone, his voice soft and raspy with sleep and the effort to be quiet for my sake. It’s early. Almost ungodly early, and the sun is a couple hours from making its way above the horizon at this point. It feels like we went to sleep just minutes ago, and truthfully, the feeling isn’t that far off from reality.

Still, the ringing of his phone brought him up to a sitting position immediately. No hesitation, no groan. He doesn’t resent the call at all. It’s that important to him.