Shaking my head, I quickly walk into the master bedroom, determined not to let my nerves get the best of me and potentially ruin our first night in the house.
The master bathroom is much like the bedroom, sleek and luxurious. Everything is modern and updated, with a hint of masculinity in the colors. I walk over to the jacuzzi tub and almost groan out-loud when I see the jets circling the tub.
This might be my new favorite part of Briggs’s- I mean… our house.
My other favorite part would be the movie room in the basement. Equipped with massive, comfy chairs that seem to swallow you when you sink down in them, and a projection screen that takes up the entire wall. I have already been dreaming of all the Hallmark shows I’ll watch there.
I look in the box of bathroom stuff that we brought from my apartment and I don't see any of the bubble baths or soaps that I packed.
Crap. Briggs must have unpacked it, and I don’t know where. I begin opening all of the cabinets and find nothing but extra toilet paper and manly stuff.
Shutting the cabinet, I walk back out to the hallway and am about to go down the stairs to search for Briggs when I hear soft murmuring coming from Olive’s room. Quietly, I walk closer to her room until I get to the doorway and peek around the corner.
Briggs is sitting in the new rocking chair glider he bought for Olive’s room, cradling her little body in his arms. The room is dark, with only her projector casting tiny ballerinas onto the ceiling, barely illuminating the two of them. He’s gazing down at her with so much love, so much adoration in his eyes that it steals the breath from my lungs.
I don’t want him to know I’m here, witnessing this moment. It’s so pure, so perfect, that I don’t want to ruin it. I cover my mouth to bite back the sob that threatens to spill over my lips.
He gently swipes his thumb across her cheek as he rocks her, gazing down into her eyes.
“You know how much daddy loves you, Olive Juice? More than you’ll ever know. I’d do anything in the world to see you smile. Anything to make you happy. Do you know that? That no matter what, Daddy will always be here. I’ll never leave you, no matter how old you get. Even when you think Daddy isn’t cool and you don’t want me to give you goodnight kisses, or piggyback rides. I’ll love you even more then.”
Oh god, my heart. I feel the hot sting of tears as they well in my eyes. Watching him rock our daughter, stroking her face so tenderly, it’s making my knees weak.
“And you know what Olive? One day, I’m gonna marry your mama.”
I suck in a breath beneath my palm at his words.
“I’m crazy about her, just like I am you, and one day, when you have brother and sisters running around to play with, you’ll still be my favorite girl. My always girl. Daddy loves you, more than anything.”
Somewhere during the middle of his talk, Olive’s eyes drifted closed and she’s fast asleep in her daddy’s arms, completely soothed by the sound of his voice. When he gets up to place her in her crib, I swipe away the tears and quickly dash back to the bathroom before he can discover I’ve overheard him.
I turn the hot water on, then add a small dash of cold, quickly undressing and gingerly stepping into the water. Once the tub is full, I turn off the faucet and then turn on the jets.
If my stomach wasn’t in knots, I could probably enjoy it, but the knot seems to tighten with each breath I take.
I feel sick to my stomach from the guilt. It’s time and pushing it off is only going to make everything worse. Lying back against the back of the tub, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe, slow and steady. With the lull of the jets, I drift off.
“Baby,” Briggs whispers.
I open my eyes slowly and look up to see him standing over me. “Oh God, I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”
I try to sit up out of the now lukewarm water, but he places a firm hand on my shoulder. “Stay.”
He reaches down, the muscles of his forearm on display as he turns off the jets and lets the water drain, but then turns on the hot water once more. When he stands and reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt off, my mouth goes dry.
No matter how many times I’ve seen or felt this body beneath my hands, I’ll never stop being in awe by the sight of him. His body is perfection, a washboard of abs that dip into a tight V at the waistband of his jeans. I watch as he pops the button of his jeans, unzipping them, then drags those and the tight black briefs beneath, down his hips. After that, he steps inside the tub with me.
Its massive size is meant for more than one person, and even though I’m still slightly self-conscious, I love when it’s just the two of us.
He sits across from me, his back resting next to the faucet. He pulls me between his legs and rubs the sole of my foot, paying extra attention to the sore arch like he did earlier tonight.
“You’re quiet, everything okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Just tired. On sensory overload.”
His hand stills on my foot, and I shake my head vehemently and narrow my eyes playfully. “If you stop…”
Laughing, he starts to rub again, and I sink further into his touch.