I nod my agreement. Tristan was always a hard worker, but his training camp gotinsanebefore this title fight. And they say that winning the title is actually easier than keeping it so he's not wrong about things getting harder after tomorrow. He spreads himself too thin by teaching so much. I make a mental note to thank Coach for somehow talking some sense into Tristan.
"Privates are the smarter financial decision, though it would probably be good for gym appearances if I kept teaching at least one class a week." Tristan cocks his head in thought, mulling something over. I lean my head against the headboard and close my eyes, relaxing into the sound of his stream of consciousness. I will never get tired of listening to him talk. "I could keep Mondays on my schedule. I'll use it as my rest day and teach the MMA class at night. Maybe I'll even teach the kids class at 5:00. They're actually easier than the adults to teach."
"God knows you're going to need the practice," I mumble.
But then my brain catches up to my mouth and my eyes snap open when I realize what I just blurted out. My eyes dart to where Tristan is still leaning against the dresser.
He's no longer unfocused or staring into the distance. His normal, piercing gaze is back, and it's fully directed at me. I don't see confusion or shock in his eyes—I just see him studying me, trying to dissect the words that just left my mouth.
I press trembling fingers to my lips, as if I can keep any more secrets from spilling. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to tell you before the fight," I whisper. "I didn't want to distract you."
At that, his eyes go wide. His gaze immediately drops down to my stomach. After a moment, he meets my wide-eyed stare with a shocked look of his own. "You’re… you’re pregnant?" he asks.
Fingers still pressed to my lips, I nod.
After he proposed, it was like a switch had flipped in his brain. I watched him realize he no longer needed to be the perpetual bachelor, and instead could have the life that he never knew he wanted. That he now felt he wouldn't be happy without. He wanted the wife, the kids, the house in the suburbs. He would get so happy when he'd talk about being a dad someday. And it practically ruined my ovaries to hear him talk about what he wanted to teach them, and what kind of parent he wanted to be. He was already so excited.
So, although this is sooner than we planned, I know the joy that's about to erupt out of Tristan the second he gets over his shock.
I drop my hands into my lap and tell him with a broken sob, "You're going to be a dad. We're going to have a baby."
My tears seem to snap him out of his daze. He strides quickly over to the bed and pulls me over to the side of it so he can kneel on the floor between my legs.
"Why are you crying?" he asks softly as he thumbs away my tears, his look of shock being replaced by one of awe.
At that, a wet laugh breaks out of me. I reach forward to run a hand through Tristan's hair, wanting more contact between us in this moment. "Because I'm pregnant and emotional. Get used to it."
He turns his awed look down to my stomach. Slowly, tentatively, he places his hand on me. My tears threaten to overflow again so I try to distract myself by pressing my hands over his. "You're going to be a dad," I whisper again.
Finally,finally, a smile appears on his face. Then it stretches into an ear-to-ear grin. And suddenly the whole room fills with his happiness and I think I might drown from the feeling of it.
"You're going to be a mom," he says simply. And just hearing those words makes the reality of everything crash down on me. Another broken, happy sob tears from my throat as I throw my arms around his neck.
He stokes my back and murmurs soothing words in my ear, comfortable with the silence that allows us both to deal with the news in our own way.
I can sense when something occurs to him because his fingers freeze in their path along my spine. Sniffling, I pull back to look at him questioningly.
"When did you find out?" he finally asks. "Were you really going to wait until after the fight?"
I laugh at the absurdity of it—at the fact that I thought I could keep this from him. "I only took the test two days ago. You probably didn't notice but I've been an annoying grump the past week and I haven't really had an appetite. That's why I took the test."
Tristan winces and buries his face in my neck. "Fuck, baby, I'm sorry. I should've noticed. You shouldn't have to do anything alone."
I wrap my arms around my husband and turn to smile against his hair. The fact that he's upset he missed the signs is such a pure sign of his love for me that I feel like I fall for him all over again in this moment.
"Tristan, you're about to walk into the fight that you've spent your entire adult life training for. I didn't want you to notice me. I wanted you to focus on yourself." He breathes a ragged exhale against my skin but nods as he pulls back to look at me again.
I start running my fingers through his hair again. "I definitely wasn't going to tell you while you were worrying about cutting weight, but I thought I could at least make it until after the fight, so I wouldn’t distract you. So much for that plan."
Tristan smiles and shakes his head. "It probably would've been a little jarring if you told me right before I walked out to the cage, but you could’ve told me any other time. You didn't have to hide it from me." He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me tight against his chest. "I love you. And I love our baby. This could only make me happy."
Warmth blossoms in my chest at his words. I smile and lean forward to press my lips against his. He tightens his grip on me, intensifying the kiss and letting me feel every ounce of his happiness.
Just like it still does even three years later, it doesn't take long for our kiss to carry us away. He coaxes my lips open and slides his tongue against mine, drawing a heady whimper out of me. I try to press closer to him, but I just end up rocking my hips against him.
Tristan pulls away with a strangled curse. He leans his forehead against mine, both of us panting from the heated kiss. "I am going to fuck you so hard after this fight is over," he growls. "We're not leaving the bed next week. It'll be like our honeymoon all over again."
I shiver at the memory of our trip to the Maldives. Our hunger for each other never died down so we really did give the honeymoon suite a run for its money. We came back from that trip more exhausted than when we left.