“I do like stories. Does it have a happy ending?”
He smiles. “I’m going to ask you a question at the end, and what you say will determine that.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You’re confusing me just a bit, Dr. Jones.”
“Sorry,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not a good storyteller, but I want you to hear this.”
“Okay. Can I pee first? I’m ruining the mood, but I’m pregnant. I pee a lot.”
“It’s only going to get worse.”
“Yay.” I roll my eyes, kiss him, and hurry into the house to use the bathroom. When I go back outside, Archer is sitting by the pool. His shoes are off, and he’s rolling up his pants.
“We can go in,” I say. “The water is warm and it’s humid out. It’d feel nice. You brought your suit, right?”
“I did. You only reminded me a dozen times.”
“I haven’t been swimming in a while. I’m looking forward to it.” I sit next to him and stick my feet in the water. “Unless you want to skinny dip later.”
“I like that idea.”
“You know, I’ve never had sex in a pool before.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“And you shouldn’t, especially when pregnant. You’re likely to get a UTI if you have sex in a pool, hot tub, or lake.”
“You’re back to Dr. Fuddy-Duddy again.”
“Hey, health and safety are important to me.”
I laugh and loop my arm through his and look up at the star-studded sky. Everything feels perfect right now, and I know without a doubt that I’m in love with Archer.
And for the first time, I think he’s in love with me too.
“You said we never really talked before,” he starts. “There’s a reason for that.”
“Is it a good reason?”
“In retrospect, no.” He kisses me, and the moment his lips are against mine, I melt. When his tongue slips into my mouth, I’m a goner.
“Maybe we can tell stories later and have sex now.”
“You couldn’t get more perfect if you tried,” Archer mumbles, kissing me harder. Desire swirls inside of me. It would be really obvious if Archer and I both went upstairs together. Part of me doesn’t care.
Fuck, this long-distance thing sucks. We’re finally together after over a week apart and we’re at my parents’ house. I could always pretend to be sick and Archer is coming up to take care of me.
“Is your car unlocked?” I ask between kisses.
“I think so. Why?”
“Want to have sex in the back?”
“Yes,” he says with no hesitation. We begin to untangle when the sliding glass door opens.
“Aunt Winnie!” Jackson calls. “Daddy said I can tell you goodnight.”
“I’ll be right there,” I tell him and pull my feet from the water.
“Are you swimming? I want to swim!” Jackson’s eyes light up and he comes running.
“No, Jackson!” I scramble up, but there’s no way I can get to him in time. Wes sprints out of the house as well, seeing Jackson head right for the water.
“Jackson!” Wes yells. “No!”
Jackson can’t swim, but that doesn’t stop him from jumping right into the pool.
14
Archer
Jackson slips under the surface of the water and doesn’t come back up. Quinn screams, and I jump in, diving down and swimming across to grab Jackson. I hook my arm around him and push off the bottom of the pool. He’s thrashing, doing everything he can to get himself to the surface, and hits me in the face a few times. I bring him up out of the water, and Weston takes him from my arms, bringing him out of the pool.
“What were you thinking?” Weston asks, eyes wide with fear. Jackson coughs up water, and Wes holds him tightly against him. I pull myself up out of the water, eyes on the kid. “Are you okay?”
Jackson is still coughing, and being hugged tight by his father isn’t helping. Quinn comes around, crouching down to Jackson. Mrs. Dawson comes outside, panicked.
“What happened? I heard someone scream.”
“Jackson jumped in the pool and Archer saved him,” Quinn says, letting out a shaky breath. “Is he okay?”
“I think so,” Wes says, both hands on Jackson’s shoulders. I’ve seen that look of fear and worry in parents’ eyes before. My own kid isn’t born yet and I already feel like I understand it more than I did before. “Don’t ever do that again,” Wes tells Jackson and stands, holding the boy in his arms and sits in a lounge chair. Jackson is crying, which is a good sign. At least he’s getting oxygen.
Mrs. Dawson grabs two towels that were hanging to dry on the fence and gives one to me and one to Wes.
“Thank you,” Wes tells me, wrapping Jackson up in the towel. “He came out to tell Quinn goodnight. I didn’t think he’d jump in.”
“I thought they were swimming,” Jackson tells him, trying to stop crying.
“That doesn’t mean you can jump in. You can’t swim without floaties. You are lucky Archer got to you so fast.”
“Thank you,” Jackson chokes out.
“Of course, buddy,” I say. “Don’t do that again. You scared us all.”
Wes smoothes back Jackson’s hair and kisses his forehead. Quinn takes the towel from my hands and drapes it around my shoulders.
“Thank God you got to him so fast.” She pulls the towel tight as if she’s worried I’m cold. It’s hot and humid out tonight. Jumping in the water felt good.
“I was close.”
Quinn cups my face and stands on her toes to kiss me. “You’re going to make a good dad.”
“I hope so.” I rest my hand on her stomach.
“Well, I know so.”
“And you’ll be a good mom. You know all the words to every Disney song.”
Quinn laughs, some of the tension leaving her. She takes a glance at Jackson, who’s still snug in Weston’s arms. “I don’t know if that’s a qualifying factor for what makes a good parent, but I’ll take it.”
Quinn takes my hand and we go over by Jackson. He’s sitting up now, eyes still red from crying and getting pool water in them.
“Are you going swimming, Aunt Winnie?”
“Not tonight,” Quinn tells him, sitting on the lounge chair next to him. “Maybe we can go swimming in the morning, but only if you have your super cool shark floaty on first, okay?”
“Okay,” he grumbles. Quinn puts her hand on his shoulder and flicks her eyes to her brother. “Are you okay?”
Wes shakes his head. “I’ve seen some pretty…pretty messed up stuff,” he starts, and I’m reminded of his service to our country. “But seeing him go under like that…”
“Hey, he’s fine,” Quinn assures him.
“Thank you,” Weston tells me, eyes drilling into mine. He’s eight years older than Quinn, and the two of them look the least alike out of all the Dawson siblings. Their personalities are probably the most different too, with Quinn being quirky and easygoing and Weston being serious and rigid. He stepped in and gave me advice multiple times before, and has been a better older brother to me than my own.
“Of course,” I say back. We stay outside for another minute or so, and then Quinn leads me upstairs to change into dry clothes.
“Do you want to shower with me?” she asks, reaching behind her and unzipping her dress.
“Do you really have to ask?”
She giggles and lets the dress fall to the ground. “Seeing you act all heroic is a turn on.”
“Everything is a turn on to you right now.”
“That is true.” She unhooks her bra and lets out a breath of relief as soon as it’s off. “I’m going to have to go bra shopping soon. I swear I’ve gone up a cup size already.”
“Your tits are going to be huge when you’re breastfeeding,” I say without thinking. We haven’t talked about it yet. We haven’t talked about anything post-birth. “I mean, if that’s what you want to do. If not, that’s fine too.”
She turns on the shower and g
rabs two towels from the closet between the two sinks. “What do you think I should do?”
I don’t know if she’s testing me or just honestly asking for my opinion. “If you’re able to breastfeed, then I think you should.”
“And if I’m not able to?”
“Then you feed formula. As long as they’re getting fed, it’s fine.”
She rakes her fingers through her curls. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“I know, babe. And that’s okay. But we do need to start thinking about—and talking about—these things.”
She nods and tests the water, seeing if it’s warm enough to get in yet. I strip out of my wet clothes and put them in the laundry basket in the closet. “I know. And even though I really like how firm and perky my boobs are, I do want to try breastfeeding.”
“I like how firm and perky they are too.”
“Are you still going to be attracted to me when I’m nine months pregnant?” She gets into the shower and I follow after her.
Warm water pours down on us. “I’ll always be attracted to you. And this might be weird, but knowing I knocked you up is kind of a turn on.”
“Really?” Quinn wiggles her eyebrows. “Because you did this.” She puts my hand on her stomach.
“See?” I motion to my dick. “You’re starting to turn me on.”