N E S S A

"Playoff games get a little...you know. Are you sure you're up for coming?"

I narrowed my eyes at my insufferable—but admittedly lovable—husband.

"No, I don't actually know, Grayson."

He sighed. "Rowdy. They get rowdy, Adler. And you're carrying precious cargo." Walking past me in the kitchen, Grayson stopped to kiss the top of my head and smooth his hand over my belly, which had grown rounder significantly in the last few weeks.

I did not roll my eyes. I wanted to, but I did not.

I'd been really trying lately.

"You underestimate me, Grayson. You think I can't hold my own against a bunch of rival fans?"

His steely eyes grew sharper. "It's my exact worry that you would try to. And while you're very capable—"

Well, that emphasis was laying it on a little thick, so I cut in.

"Do you really think that Bren will let anyone shove me around in the stands? Not to mention Beau and Julian. And the girls, too. Your moms?" I went on. "I wouldn't want to get into a fight with Lillian. I bet she'd swear everyone out in French and then throw a few punches."

Grayson sighed, and I spun to wrap my arms around him.

"Relax, baby," I said softly. "I'm going to be surrounded by all our friends. And we have our own little section in the stands, where we usually sit. It might be a playoff game, but everything will be fine."

Grayson grumbled beneath his breath, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"I would have thought you'd be mad if I didn't go."

"Of course I want you to be there, but I also have a very strong urge to stick you in a plastic bubble until this baby is born. I think I impregnated you with some clumsiness because you've tripped up the stairs like five times in the last month."

Frowning, I went to slap his arm, and he caught my hand, our fingers tangling together as he threw me a smile.

Which quickly faded to a frown when he realized he still hadn't won this conversation.

"It will be too loud for the baby," Grayson tried. "Dr. Martinez said that loud noises aren't good—"

"I know you love her, but Dr. Martinez is not an OBGYN. And yes, loud noises aren't good for the baby, but only if I were going to a football game every day. Like as my full-time job. But I'm not, because that's your job. My doctor said that this was just fine."

"It isn't like you can't watch the game from home," Grayson said, cockiness sliding into his expression as he tried a different angle. "It is televised for the whole country to see."

"Don't remind me," I grumbled, turning around to fill up a glass of water.

A rumbling laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Spinning to face him again, I took a long sip, studying Grayson over the rim of my water glass as I attempted to determine if he was teasing me or if he knew. Finally, I gave in. "Do you know how many memes I've seen about you?"

Grayson leaned on the countertop with a smile. "Good ones, I hope. They better feature the left side of my face."

"I don't like sharing you with the internet," I said, poking him in his chest.

"You're not sharing me with anyone," he replied, leaning down to brush a kiss against my lips. "I'm all yours, darling."

"And the baby's," I added.

He nodded with a wide grin. "And Baby Everett-Elez, too."

A shiver ran down my back.

Baby Everett-Elez.

I honestly still couldn't believe it.

But I absolutely loved it.

****

I'd won the debate. Of course.

But Grayson was right.

The game was rowdy—more than usual. At this point, I felt threatened by the possibility of hearing loss. Seeing Grayson play in front of such a large crowd was worth it, though. And yeah, he was little more than a speck from where we were, but sometimes he made it onto the jumbotron as he ran around the field. Every time Everett flashed onto the screen, I squealed a little bit on the inside.

There was something about seeing someone's dreams come true with your own eyes. Especially when that someone was the love of your life.

It could have been worse, the rowdiness. But luckily, we had box seats, ones that weren't even courtesy of the team but rather courtesy of Beau Martin. Well, his mom, actually.

It felt excessive and more than we really needed, but if it got me out of the crushed general seating, I wouldn't complain. My pregnant ass needed a little cushion.

"Remind me to send a thank-you note to your mom," I said to Beau as I eased back down in my chair after a nail-biting play that had Grayson wide-open in the endzone before the quarterback was sacked. There were less than two minutes left in the second quarter, and we needed that touchdown.

"Gladly," Beau said, sinking into his chair next to me. "Momma Martin loves getting shit in the mail."

That didn't surprise me. Although a headstrong, no-nonsense businesswoman, Beau's mom was also the type of person who would send personalized notes for holidays and ship cookies to each of our houses on a whim.

Beau leaned away from me, putting his arm around Collins, so I turned to the person on my other side instead. Bren had his fingers laced with Madie's as he watched the game, eyes intense. The two of them seemed subdued tonight, but I suspected it had something to do with being away from Emery. Their tiny baby girl was with Grandma Caroline, but it had to be one of the first nights they'd been without her.

I was about to ask them about it when the crowd roared, drawing my attention back to the field. Our team's defense was doing their thing now, and though I missed whatever just happened, I could spot the one thing I cared about: Grayson was on the sidelines, hands on his hips, perfectly intact, and everything was okay.

"Does it still make you nervous?" Bren asked, seeming to note where my mind had gone. "Him playing?"

I sighed. "Yeah, sometimes. Although it's definitely gotten easier over the years to make myself believe that he'll be okay when he goes out there. Every game where nothing happens helps me breathe a little easier the next time."

A bit of fear still lingered, though. I remembered the panic of that day when Julian told me the truth about Grayson, and it was those memories that ate away at my insides sometimes. But I didn't let myself live in that fear and panic. I couldn't do that. Not for me, not for Grayson, not for the baby.

And yet, I tensed a little when Grayson jogged out onto the field at the change of possession. Bren noticed and gave my hand a little squeeze.

"He'll be okay, Nes. Like he always is." He nodded his head toward the end zone. "Watch him score us a touchdown, too."

"I sure hope you're right," I said wryly. I wanted a happy boy at home tonight.

Grayson was almost always happy, and he never really took his losses home with him. He was well-rounded enough in his other interests that he didn't solely rely on winning to put him in a good mood. But losing a championship game and entry to one of the most coveted sporting events in the country?

That would be a different kind of letdown.

"I am," Bren said smugly, watching as Grayson started sprinting down the field. My heart leaped into my throat as I watched, and when Bren jumped to his feet as the quarterback lobbed the ball into the air, I sprang up as well, screaming through a suspended moment when the ball seemed to float there.

Floating, floating, floating until finally, it landed in Grayson's outstretched hands.

And now for the part I hated the most—the part where there were eleven giant-ass football players, all chasing my husband with hopes of knocking him into the ground. God help them if they actually ever hurt him because I'd—

Before I could finish the thought, Grayson crossed over that white line scot-free, and I squealed, bouncing on my feet until I remembered I was carrying a child the size of a turnip, and then I took to waving my arms wildly in the air instead.

The stadium's air was electric; it buzzed within me. I could write a song from the energy of that touchdown catch, and maybe someday, I would. But right now, I just wanted to revel in it. Grayson whipped off his helmet, and I saw his grin from here. Even if it hadn't been plastered on the jumbotron, I would still have been able to see it.

My handsome man. He spun around, turning in our direction, clearly scanning the crowd for our box. But he looked lost.

And so, with twelve seconds left in the quarter and knowing that the team would head into the locker room in a matter of minutes, I squeezed past Beau and Collins, intent on one thing.

"Nessa!" Bren called after me, hopping over the row of seats to meet me by the box entrance after looping back for a quick second to kiss Madie and whisper something in her ear.

"I want to see him," I shouted over the ongoing eruption of the crowd.

"You can see him." Bren made an exaggerated gesture at the field and then the jumbotron. "He's right there."

"You know what I mean," I said, rolling my eyes and striding in the direction of the stairs that led down toward the field.

Even with all the noise in the stadium, I still heard Bren's exaggerated sigh, his footsteps behind me. And when I glanced over my shoulder, sure enough, there he was. Messy brown hair and moody gaze.

"You don't have to come."

"And risk Grayson's wrath when he sees you pushing through the crowd by yourself?" Bren scoffed, continuing to follow me down a series of stairs. "Do you know how many texts he sent me this morning? Dude is about to win the playoffs, and what's he stressing about? You. We gotta go easy on that heart of his."

Turning around, I smacked Bren in the arm. Lightly. But still. "You're not allowed to use his heart to get me to cooperate."

Funny that Bren was consoling me just a few minutes ago and now look at him. Trader.

And yet, he was also a tiny bit right.

Grayson's expression was a rollercoaster of emotions when he spotted me leaning up against the railing, shouting his name after half-time began. Bright happiness followed by a grumpy, concerned realization, which then lessened to mild irritation when he saw Bren at my side.

He shook his head, mouthing at me.

You shouldn't have come down here.

He couldn't keep his smile at bay for long, though. Grayson jumped up and grabbed onto the railing with a quick-stepped leap, pressing a fast but heated kiss to my lips. "There she is," he muttered against my mouth. Then he lowered himself and amended, "There they are, I mean."

Slipping his hand through the bars that separated the fans from the field, Grayson palmed my belly, which hid beneath my oversized Everett jersey.

As he looked up at me with glittering eyes, I just knew that the next words out of my husband's mouth would be ridiculous and the epitome of Grayson.

"How's my little Tuesday doing today?"

I swatted his hand away, and he dropped back down to the field with a laugh.

"We are not naming our child Tuesday!"

"Okay, Wednesday," he said, grinning broadly. It was sucking me in like his smile usually did, but then the buzzing of my phone yanked me back into reality.

I fully intended to ignore whoever it was, but when I glanced down at the phone, I couldn't help but answer it. Instead of saying hello, though, I twisted the phone around to face Grayson, leaning down over the railing to show him. When he realized who it was on the other end of the video call, his face lit up even brighter.

"Rory, my man," Grayson hollered at the phone, lips stretched wide.

My brother didn't want to talk to me right now; he wanted to see the action. I knew him well enough to know that.

Rory's voice was muffled due to the distance I was holding the phone out and the crowd around us, but I was pretty sure he'd just asked Grayson about tickets for the next game. I had to stifle a laugh.

"Don't jinx it, dude," Grayson called back with a chuckle. "Still got a whole second half to play here."

Noticing how Grayson had started to inch back toward the sidelines, I flipped the view to wave at Rory and promised him we'd call later. After hanging up, I beamed back down at Grayson, loving how much he loved my family.

"I have to go win a football game now, darling," he said, keeping his voice as low as he could with the music that began bursting over the stadium speakers. "Cheer for me?"

"Always," I said with a small sigh as I memorized the sight of him. From the sweaty hair plastered to his skin to the knowing grin. Even the way his fingers curled around the face mask on his helmet. Every little bit of him.

"Keep her safe, Hadaway," Grayson ordered as he walked backward toward the rest of the team, and Bren gave him a little mocking salute, though his brown eyes were serious as they connected with Grayson's.

My body didn't want to move as fast on the way back up to our box seats, and a part of me regretted making the trek down to the field. But it was a tiny part.

I was, quite literally, on the edge of my seat for the rest of the game. Standing made my ankles swell, but I couldn't relax—not when the score was so close for most of the third and fourth quarter.

Unsurprisingly, my handsome football-playing husband and his team did win the game, and suddenly I was in the mood to hug everyone—Beau and Collins and then Bren and Madie. Julian was next before finally Lillian and Grace.

"Aye, Nessa!" Beau hollered, and I broke away from Grayson's moms. "As your former roommate, I know exactly how you're going to celebrate tonight." He jutted a water bottle out toward me. "Maybe start hydrating now."

Oh my God, Beau.

I saw Grace wrinkle her nose out of the corner of my eye, and if I had something other than my phone in my hand to throw at Beau, I would have launched it across this box. But as it were, I just scowled and secretly agreed with him, all while counting down the minutes until I made it home.

After everyone had returned to what they were doing before Beau called for attention, I walked over to him and snuck the water bottle out of his hands.

He winked as I took a large gulp.

****

Grayson crashed through the front door of our LA bungalow hours later, immediately dropping his bags to find me curled up in the living room. Despite my exhaustion from the day, I had been trying so incredibly hard to stay awake until he made it home.

Worth it, too, because Grayson was wearing my favorite expression—giddy, confident, eager. He was everything handsome, everything wholesome, and yet a spark of something naughty flickered in his eyes.

My absolute favorite expression.

"There he is," I said, mimicking his words from earlier. "There's my football star." When I started to push up from the couch, Grayson shook his head.

"Stay there," he said, a gravelly note in his voice. "You were on your feet a lot today."

"So were you," I protested, but he continued to shake his head.

Swooping down into my open arms, Grayson wrapped his strong self around me and plucked me off the couch. Based on the quickness of his steps—and the direction of them—I wasn't surprised when I ended up on the bed with my mouth covered by his. And the instant my lips parted, Grayson flooded my throat with a groan. His kisses were quick to grow harder, needier, and desperate.

"I miss kissing you on the field," I gasped when he pulled back slightly. "I miss kissing you on the field in front of far too many people."

"Fuck," he grunted. "I miss that, too. I had to fight to get out of the stadium, fight through LA traffic, fight with my keys at the front door. That's way too much fucking stuff that I have to do before kissing you after a game."

"Agreed," I said, arching back to allow Grayson's lips to coast down my exposed neck. I'd showered after getting home and then put on another one of Grayson's jerseys—a clean one. And nothing else.

Thought he might appreciate that.

"I'm going to complain to the league," Grayson rasped. "It's ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous."

"Only for you," he said, slipping his hand beneath my jersey with an appreciative sigh at finding me naked beneath. "Only for fucking you, Adler."

His hand molded to the curve of my stomach, caressing softly. Then he tugged up the jersey and lowered his head to brush soft kisses over it.

"And you," he whispered against my skin.

"You are going to be a ridiculous dad," I laughed.

"I know," he said with a shrug. "But you're going to love it."

Ugh, he was right. I was going to absolutely love it.

"I love you," I said with a sharp gasp as Grayson inched further down on the bed, swiping his tongue between my legs once as though testing how ready I was.

I was so ready.

"Oh my God, Nessa," he moaned, making all the hairs on my body stand up as vibrations from his mouth coursed through me. "I love you, too. I love the way you taste." He circled his tongue around my clit. "I love the way you look in my goddamn jersey." Fisting the jersey, he yanked it up further, exposing the rest of me and peeking up to scour my body with his gaze. "I love coming home to you every night like this."

"Yes."

It was all I could say, and it was barely audible. Just a little syllable on a puff of air.

"Yes, baby?" he asked with a smirk.

I nodded. Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Yes to what?" he prodded.

"You know," I said, wiggling beneath him. Every tiny bit of me was aching for every bit of Grayson. Eagerness didn't even touch on how badly I wanted him right now. He was all but shaking with intensity, and I longed to soak up every last bit of it.

Grayson crashed onto the bed beside me, tipping me into a spooning position, and then his voice dropped as he found my ear, rasping in it. "Yes to making you come once for every point I scored tonight?"

I nearly choked on air even as my pulse pounded at the idea. "You scored two touchdowns. That's like...twelve points."

"Look at you," he whispered, sucking at the spot right below my ear. "Remembering things about football."

Jerking my arm back, I tried to elbow him in the side. But he caught it.

He was way too fucking good at catching things.

"Fine," he chuckled. "I'll make you come once for every touchdown."

"I don't know...." I said, glancing over my shoulder at him with a tipping of my smile. "I think you can do better than two."

Grayson barked a laugh just as he tossed one of my legs back on top of his, opening me up for him. He plunged a finger inside me without even so much as a warning, and I cried out at the sensations flooding my body. Leaning my head back into the crook of his neck, I tried to catch my breath as I let him use those talented goddamn fingers on me.

"You and your fucking attitude," he growled, curling his grip deeper while lightly brushing over my clit with his thumb, causing me to arch upward. Jesus Christ. "You know, you're going to come in about a minute because you've been so beautifully sensitive ever since I got you pregnant."

Grayson always liked to point out exactly how I got pregnant. That he was the one to do it. Really proud of himself for that. But he wasn't kidding about the sensitive part; every gentle swipe of his finger made me want to scream with how good it felt.

"And then," he continued, "you're going to come again around my cock before I let you choose how it happens the third time. Since, you know, you don't think two is enough."

I groaned loudly, knowing everything he just predicted was about to come true.

And it did. It wasn't long before I was spasming up into his hand with an overwhelming flash of heat and hunger, and then he guided himself into me with a thrust that began gentle but didn't stay that way for long. It grew into something needy and rough. Pent-up energy that needed to be expelled, and shit, I couldn't lie; I liked to be the one who received it. Especially with how Grayson was chanting my name reverently in my ear, like I was the only one who could receive it.

He was the receiver on the field. But in bed...

"I love you in such a goddamn wild way, Nessa," he said, punctuating every word between heavy breaths, and it was that—that right there—that sent me over the edge.

And then, because I couldn't handle more despite my earlier attitude, just like Grayson and his annoyingly confident smirk had known, I cuddled up beneath his arm.

Grayson caressed my stomach in smooth circles until he fell asleep, his movements slowing into stillness. And for the ten minutes before I drifted off, too, I breathed in that spicy scent of his aftershave or cologne or whatever it was—that little bit of Grayson that hadn't changed.

Though some things did change. After all, there was once a time when this man had fallen asleep in my bed, and I'd dared to be upset about it.

That wouldn't ever happen again.

Because right now, I honestly couldn't be happier.