N E S S A

Every time Grayson and I left on a trip without Gabriel, I spent the first few hours worrying that we'd made the wrong choice in not bringing him. And while I hadn't actually said a thing about it, Grayson just knew.

"He's going to have way more fun with Beau than if he came with us. There's no place for him to run around in a stuffy Manhattan hotel. But I'm sure he's already outside playing—" He scrunched his nose. "—basketball with Beau."

I tried to swipe discreetly at my eyes. It wasn't my fault. It was the pregnancy hormones. "I know."

Logically, yes, I knew Grayson was right. But a few months ago, my world had been flipped upside down. Learning that Gabriel had actually inherited Grayson's heart condition was one of the worst moments in my life—right up there with finding out from Julian that Grayson had been in a coma. My boys had the best hearts, and it didn't seem fair for both of them to go through that.

I was absolutely devastated, but it hit Grayson even harder. And amidst all that grief, we both had a swirl of guilt. What ifs lingered in our brains constantly.

What if we hadn't decided to get a second opinion from Grayson's medical team back home?

What if we'd missed it completely?

What if something had happened?

Grayson and I both knew that we couldn't live like that. After all, Gabriel had surgery to correct his aorta, and he was fine. Just like Grayson had recovered from his stroke to remain perfectly healthy all these years. Things would be okay.

And yet, we struggled to let it go. We were struggling before we realized we were expecting another child. But afterward...Let's just say I'd been paralyzed with fear ever since learning I was pregnant again.

Grayson, too.

I hated that my pregnancy announcement had been bittersweet in that way. Another child was something Gray had wanted for so long, and now I could tell that he hadn't stopped worrying since the day I told him. He was terrified that it would happen again. That both of our children would be born with congenital heart defects.

That was why he decided to talk to Julian about legal action. He felt powerless in all this, and while suing the hospital that failed to diagnose Gabriel wouldn't solve any of our problems, at least he felt like he was doing something. I understood that.

But most importantly, I wanted anything that might take Grayson's pain away. My ridiculously perfect man didn't know how to handle that his one fatal imperfection had affected our son and possibly our future child, too. The guilt I felt was nothing compared to what he felt, and I just wanted to take it away. He didn't deserve to feel this way—not one bit.

"Everything's going to be okay," Grayson murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I wished I could make him believe the same, but for now, all I did was nod and snuggle into his side. We were sitting first class on a packed flight to New York, and I suddenly regretted not taking Beau's private jet. He offered, but that seemed excessive. I couldn't borrow a plane whenever I had a gig in a different state, like this weekend.

I wouldn't mind a bit of alone time, though. I'd caught people staring at Grayson and me more than once, which was pretty routine these days. But right now, with tears lining my lashes, I didn't want to be stared at.

So I closed my eyes and let it all fade away.

****

A few hours later, I woke to Grayson's gentle nudge and the realization that we had already landed. Grayson slipped into the aisle first, grabbing our bags and toting it all out of the plane, so I didn't have to lift a single finger.

He'd been over-the-top protective during my last pregnancy, but it seemed worse this time around. It was almost as though he thought that the risk relating to the baby's heart could somehow put me at risk, too. As though it made me more fragile.

I didn't bother complaining about it because I felt annoyingly weak today. A lot of days, actually. That tended to happen after throwing up three times every morning. But luckily, I'd already gotten that out of my system for today, and now I was ravenous.

"I can take that," I offered, pointing to one of the backpacks Grayson carried as soon as we deboarded the plane.

He shook his head, slung it over his shoulder, and grabbed my hand. "I got it."

"You know," I said with a sigh, "you don't need to impress me with your strength anymore. We're already married."

He grinned down at me. "You were impressed with my strength? And here I thought it was my charming personality."

"I've always been impressed with your strength," I said softly, giving him an equally tender smile. He was physically strong, of course. But it was everything else about him that impressed me.

Grayson's steely eyes grew misty around the edges, but he didn't say anything except for a whispered I love you. He'd always been the rock in our relationship, but lately, I found that he needed these little reassurances more than ever.

"Food?" I asked with a yawn, and Grayson's smile grew.

"Do you want to grab something here or check into the hotel first?"

"Hotel," I decided, my need for comfort outweighing my hunger. I needed to put my feet up and change into something fresh, and maybe we could even—

"We can just order room service."

Ah, perfect.

"Our room has a really nice big tub if I remember correctly," Grayson added as we headed toward baggage claim. "I would happily feed my pregnant wife while she takes a bubble bath."

"You just want an excuse to watch me bathe."

"Who says I need an excuse?"

I laughed. "True, I suppose. You do let help yourself."

"What can I say?" he shrugged, looking not even a little bit guilty. "You know how I feel about you like this." He waved a hand over me. "Well, all the time. But especially like this."

"When you say like this...you mean growing a human?"

"Our human," he said cheekily, winking like it was an inside joke that only we knew. Like the whole world didn't understand how babies were made, and all of the sex we'd had to get me pregnant was a secret.

Nothing about it was a secret.

Everyone knew how damn anxious Grayson was for another child....and another child-making process.

"I'm not even showing that much," I pointed out.

Grayson readjusted the backpack slipping off his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with love and amusement and maybe even a bit of arousal. "Doesn't matter. I still fucking love it."

I hoped he never changed.

Well, I supposed that wasn't entirely true. Because if he thought we could keep doing this, again and again, he was in for a surprise. He could convince me to sign up for three kids, but more than that? No, that wasn't happening.

We could talk about that later, though.

Without another word, Grayson tugged me through the airport. He found our luggage in record time, and once he'd figured out how to manhandle it without letting me help, we were off to our hotel, which turned out to be a gorgeous high-rise with fabulous character. Sofia picked her venue well.

I didn't know much about her, the woman who hired me to sing at her wedding, except that she was deep into influencer culture and clearly, based on the wedding location, had excellent taste.

I met Sofia at one of my first gigs after college, also a wedding, back when I was still trying to navigate the music industry. Grayson had talked up my singing so much to his teammates that they asked to hear my demo—probably to figure out if he was lying. The next thing I knew, I was singing at an NFL tight end's wedding on a golf course in Santa Barbara.

I was no one when I was introduced to Sofia. No one, and yet she still seemed ecstatic to meet me. It was one of the reasons I agreed to sing at her wedding. Granted, she seemed that excited to meet everyone. I'd never been a big fan of going to weddings where I didn't know anyone, but Sofia, who had been there with a boyfriend who was now long an ex, made it look fun.

She left such an impression that when she sent a message inquiring if I still performed at weddings now that I'd grown in the industry, and brought up our encounter from the Santa Barbara wedding while acknowledging that I likely wouldn't remember her, I replied that I absolutely remembered her. She felt like my first fan, even though I knew that was somewhat of a stretch. Okay, it was a huge stretch.

Singing at her wedding would be fun. This should be fun—a little getaway for Grayson and me. We would make it fun, even if all the worries about Gabriel and baby number two kept trying to cloud my mind.

It was nothing that a deep tub couldn't fix.

"They didn't have French onion soup," Grayson announced, bursting into the hotel bathroom later with a platter of food and a frazzled expression. "Actually, they didn't have any soup at all, but they had this pasta and—"

"Grayson," I cut in, breathing in the scent of cheese and garlic through the steamy air. "This looks delicious. Thank you."

He put the tray down next to me, and then he lingered. Or rather, his eyes lingered.

I ignored the heat flash that wasn't at all caused by the hot water.

"Do you want to get in with me?" I offered.

"Do I want to get in the bathtub where my wife is sitting naked?" Grayson deadpanned, raising a brow.

"Yes, I do believe that was the question."

His grin was lopsided as he looked down at me. "Well, it was a ridiculous question, Adler."

I scooted forward in the tub, allowing him to slide behind me. He could sit across from me, but then I wouldn't have his warm body against mine. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Without wasting another second, Grayson stripped his clothes, revealing a body full of rippling muscles and, no surprise, a semi-hard cock.

"You're going to have to keep that thing in check while I eat," I teased, and Grayson rolled his eyes as he stepped into the tub, sinking down. The water sloshed around us, and then Grayson's body encased mine.

This—this was heaven. This was the reason I'd been looking forward to this weekend trip. Did we have a bathtub at home? Of course we did. But between our busy schedules and Gabriel and constantly feeling like there was something around the house that needed to get done, Grayson and I rarely paused for moments like this.

I grabbed the pasta bowl from the tub's side and leaned back against my husband with a satisfied hum. Rich flavor exploded in my mouth as I took a bite, and I moaned.

"If you want me to keep myself in check, you can't make sounds like that," Grayson grunted. His hands moved through the sudsy water, splaying over my stomach beneath the surface. He leaned in, his breath hitting the back of my neck. "Although I'm glad you like it."

"It's delicious," I said through a mouthful of food, and Grayson chuckled. "Do you want some?"

I felt him shake his head. "No, I already scarfed down a sandwich. That's all for you, darling."

"Well, I'll probably have leftovers if you want them."

"You're eating for two," Grayson muttered, and it sounded like a threat. "So eat for two, Wednesday."

I sighed, knowing it wasn't worth fighting him on this. We sat in silence while I ate, the sloshing of water and the tiny popping of bubbles breaking the silence every so often. Grayson's hands began to roam as I got closer to the bottom of the bowl. They smoothed obsessively over my belly before brushing down my sides, gripping my hips to slide me closer to him.

It seemed like Grayson wanted me to feel how he was absolutely not keeping himself in check. No surprise, of course. And yet, I still gasped when he pressed his erection into my back.

That was all it took.

Well, that was a lie.

All it had taken was that look Grayson gave me when he walked into the bathroom. Pregnancy seemed to do that to me, and Grayson knew it. I was overly sensitive in more ways than one.

My body tensed as Grayson's hands brushed against my ribcage, reaching my breasts. He teased the undersides, and my nipples, half exposed between the suds with hardened tips.

"Relax, darling."

Grayson took my empty bowl from me, setting it on the side of the tub before returning to caress my skin with his fingertips.

"I can't." Relax? Suddenly I didn't want to relax. I wanted to fu—

"I'll help you," Grayson breathed, and one of his hands dipped back down over my belly. "Spread your legs for me."

I did as he said, letting my legs fall open and rest against the side of the tub.

"That's a good girl," he murmured, and I let my head tip back to rest against his shoulder. He took his time, easing his fingers into my folds in a tortuously slow way. He grazed my clit with such lackluster attention that I squirmed to try to get more, my ass backing up into him. He moaned lowly, ignoring my attempts. "So wet, Nessa."

"Obviously."

He pinched my clit, and I arched my back at the zing of pleasure. It vanished all two quickly as Grayson's hand lifted out of the water. His fingertips landed on my nipple, coating it with my wetness.

"You know what I mean," he grunted. "See?"

"I'm not sure I do." I glanced down, unable to keep from watching him play with one breast and then the other, my body pulsing. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

Grayson nipped at my ear, making a throaty noise that sent vibrations across the water. He dropped his hand back beneath the surface, cupping my sex firmly and making me cry out. Then he dipped his finger abruptly inside me, thrusting deep. "Your pussy is dripping, baby. It's making your whole pretty cunt slick for me."

He was right, absolutely right. It was dripping, especially now. Oh God, I needed him.

"For you?" I teased.

"For my fingers," Grayson clarified with a groan.

"Just your fingers?" I gasped as he began stroking steadily between my legs, switching from toying with my clit and plunging inside me.

A husky chuckle brushed against my skin. "I love how fucking needy you are for my cock when you're pregnant."

"I need it," I agreed, gripping the side of the tub as a throbbing deep within me set off. He had to hit it, had to find it. I was desperate for something to soothe the ache, but I knew what that something had to be.

Grayson knew, too. He grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him to sit in his lap. His erection settled between my legs, teasing me.

"Then take it," Grayson instructed in a gravelly voice.

Following directions, I pushed myself up so I could reach between us, wrap my fingers around Grayson's cock, and give it a good pump before sinking onto it while he made a whole slew of hot noises into my hair.

He swore, and then he began thrusting, hitting the spot I knew he would. I wasn't going to last long, and Grayson was more than aware of that fact. His light laugh grazed the back of my ear when I clutched the side of the tub with wild desperation.

"Gray."

"That what you needed?" he asked through short pants.

He could act as cocky as he fucking wanted to, but he wasn't going to last either.

I nodded, and Grayson bucked up into me, making me see stars as water splashed up around us and out of the tub. He put a hand on my belly, pressing a little, and I couldn't decide if it was because he was trying to keep me from slipping off his lap in the sudsy, slick tub or if he just wanted to hold me there while we fucked.

"Goddamnit, Nessa," he grunted, sounding more strained than I'd heard in a long time.

"What?" I gasped.

"I just love you," he muttered into my skin, leaning forward to brush kisses down my bare back. "I just love you so fucking much."

"I love you, too," I whimpered, and then I lost it when Grayson moved his hands up to cup my breasts, toying with my nipples. And one pinch later, I was falling. Falling hard and falling fast, my loud cry echoed through the bathroom. Grayson followed me, and a moment later, we both collapsed in the water again. It rocked around us.

"More relaxed?" he asked through heavy breaths.

Wordless, I nodded.

"I might need it again in the morning, though," I teased. "You know, so I can make it through tomorrow night."

Grayson kissed my hair. "Tomorrow night will go great. It always does when we're together."

I smiled and sank deeper into the tub.

And, as it turned out, Grayson was right. The performance the next day at Sofia's wedding went off without a hitch. It always did when Grayson was beside me. Ever since my first big stage moment when he stepped in to play Wild with me, I always had Grayson accompany me on at least one song. Things just felt...easier with him.

He was so confident on stage, and some of that confidence transferred to me whenever he was around.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins for the rest of the ceremony. I lived for that feeling, the happiness that music, combined with the energy of a space and a crowd, bubbled up inside me. And while a wedding crowd was entirely different from a concert crowd, I almost preferred it in a way.

It was a moment that people believed in. It was hopeful and personal in a way a concert wasn't. I was singing to people, people whose faces I could see and emotions I could touch.

Once the recessional was completed, and all the guests were beelining it toward the bar, Grayson put an arm around my shoulders, hanging back with me for a second to watch it all.

It was peaceful...until it wasn't.

I barely got the words, "I have to go to the bathroom" out of my mouth before leaving Grayson in the dust to find someplace safe to unload my lunch, courtesy of my unborn child. It was a good thing I did, too, because a few minutes later, every bit of my sandwich from earlier emptied into the toilet.

I should probably start reconsidering how many performances to take on. The last thing I wanted was to share the contents of my last meal with my audience.

After retouching my make-up and freshening my breath with the travel-size toothbrush I'd learned to keep in my purse, I wandered back into the reception only to get stopped by guest after guest as I made my way across the floor. It was sweet, really it was, but if guys kept handing me drinks, Grayson would—

"Ready, baby?"

Ah, there he was, wrapping his arm possessively around my waist and tugging me away from two financial district boys who did seem genuine in their compliments and casual greetings. Not that Grayson cared, though.

"Here," I said, smiling at him as I handed over the drink on our walk across the room. There were only a few guys in this world who I trusted taking drinks from, and they all were either related to me, played for the OSU football team once upon a time, or were named Bren Hawkins or Beau Bryant.

Not to mention, I was pretty sure this drink wasn't non-alcoholic.

Grayson took the drink from me, and I turned my attention to my purse again, looking for some gum to chase away the aftertaste of vomit that still lingered even after brushing my teeth.

"You don't have to drink it," I said offhandedly. I knew Grayson wouldn't. "People just keep handing them to me for some reason—"

"It's because you're famous, darling," Grayson drawled.

"—and I can't drink it, but we haven't announced our you-know-what."

Grayson's hand wrapped further around me so he could palm my bump. "I do know what," he muttered.

He was beyond nonsensical and illogical half the time. He was the one who had wanted to hold off on our pregnancy announcement for a little while yet—wanting it all to ourselves—and here he was, being entirely overt about it. I knew he wouldn't be able to keep a secret.

Huffing, I finally located my gum and popped a piece in my mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a funny expression on Grayson's face. And as soon as I looked up and turned around, I knew exactly why.

A tall man with auburn hair and a familiar, tilted smile was watching us.

"Julian?"

The next chapters (that will be posted in the upcoming weeks) contain spoilers for Alive at Night, Julian's story. They contain Nessa & Grayson's POV of several chapters in AAN. Those chapters are already up if you would prefer to read them first!