“I love you,” I gasp out as an orgasm rips through me.
“I love you, baby,” Ben replies, just before he unleashes inside me . . . and as I feel his erection rippling and his seed spilling inside me, I’m not the least bit anxious we might be making a baby in this instant. In fact, I’m surprised to realize I hope we are.
When we’re both quiet, Ben takes my face in his big hands and nuzzles my nose with his. “Mrs. Ben Watson,” he says. “I can’t wait.”
Epilogue
Eight years later
Coconino National Forest, Northern Arizona
As I approach the campfire, holding drinks, everyone is having a blast, talking and laughing while my brother plays his guitar and stares at his pregnant wife’s massive boobs. It’s the first time we’ve left the baby, but she’ll be fine with her two older siblings and Ben’s parents, who are visiting from Melbourne. Indeed, Ben’s parents encouraged us to take a weekend with our best friends without our kids. “You haven’t had a chance to unplug and unwind, just the two of you, in so long,” Ben’s mom said. “Go and have fun.”
So we went. Because we both desperately needed a break from The Machine. That’s what Ben and I call Hollywood and its never-ending appetite for all things Ben Watson.
I hand Tatiana and her husband bottles of beer and they thank me and clink. I hand Ben a bottle of beer wrapped in a scrap of paper . . . and then take a seat next to him.
“Cheers,” he says, clinking my beer with his.
“Cheers.”
As Ben brings his bottle to his lips, I can feel him noticing the paper I’ve slipped him along with his beer, but I don’t look. I keep my eyes trained on my brother playing guitar. But when I sense Ben’s hands unfolding the note out the corner of my eye, I can’t help grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Feel free to come into my sleeping bag tonight after my brother and everyone else have gone to sleep. No need to bring a condom. If we make a fourth baby, that’s perfectly fine with me. Why? Because I love you with all my heart and soul, my beautiful husband. And I always will. Forever and ever. Forever yours, Mrs. Watson