Page 151 of Unbreakable Thread

I drive into her again and again, the slick heat of her pulling me in, gripping me like a fist. The wet sound of it fills the room. Sweat drips from my jaw onto her thighs.

Then she clamps around me, a sudden, clenching pulse, my wife’s whole body seizing as she comes, thighs squeezing my hips, heels digging into the small of my back.

My jaw clenches, and that’s all it takes to bury myself deep into her, shuddering, pouring into her in long, throbbing pulses.

The mattress dips as I settle beside her, both of us catching our breath. “I love you,” I whisper, tracing the curve of her cheekbone with the back of my fingers.

“I love you more.” She yawns, rearranging herself until she finds a comfortable position.

“Take a nap. I’ll have them bring dinner up when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll watch TV.” She hardly sleeps now. I find her awake at all hours of the night.

“Are you sure? It is our wedding night.”

“Positive. The night’s not over. We have all week here.”

Sol settles on my chest where she belongs and drifts off as I give her a back massage.

The strands of her hair thread through my fingers. I crack a smile when her stomach moves in waves. Lying the palm of my hand on her, the twins kick and fuss. “Hey, my little soccer players, it’s your dad. Let your mama sleep a little longer.” It’s as if their hands are against mine.

It’s crazy to think that the home I built was just echoes of my footsteps and loneliness. When I first bought it, I imagined kids running around. Soon, these walls that have known only silence will hold a symphony of tiny wails and giggles. After everything we’ve been through, it feels surreal—just weeks away from the calm after our storm.

Chapter 45

Sol

“What do you think?” Max juts his chin to the building in front of us. My steps are too slow. I’m ready to have these babies already. I slide my arm around his middle, and he drapes his long, muscular arm over my shoulder.

“It’s perfect. You found a great location.” It’s a great place for a boxing gym. I’m so excited for him. He’s certainly made a name for himself, and I’m eager to see where the next years bring him.

“Next week, we sign, and it’s ours,” he says, dropping a kiss on my head.

“Have you decided on a name?”

“Cano’s Boxing Gym.” He lifts a shoulder. “It’s probably not the most original, but I can’t think of anything else right now.”

“I like it. Especially since many people already know you. It will get you a lot of students.” He’s had more and more fans approach him now that the fight is less than two weeks away. He always gives me the panicked look when it’s a woman asking for a photo. I simply nod, letting him know it’s okay. At times, Max will just reach for me to take a photo with him. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, but we did this together, you and I.” This man always has to include me.

Getting on my tiptoes, I pucker up my lips. Max bends to my height to kiss me. The kiss is short but sweet. It’s been two weeks since we got married and since we locked ourselves in the penthouse suite. The entire time was spent tangled between the bedsheets, and I would fall asleep right after, which would only last an hour, if that, when the twins would start wrestling in the womb. Then back to Max’s lips all over my body. It was a week to remember.

“You don’t need to give me credit. It was all you. I’ve been your cheerleader the entire time.”

“You’re wrong. It’s you who is not giving yourself credit. We have been a team since the beginning.” He taps my nose. “What’s mine is yours, remember?”

“Okay, but it goes both ways.”

“Fine,” my husband says, his lip curling into a smile. It’s one of those smiles that says, “The café is all yours.” It truly isn’t; he’s put money and time into it. Especially with the remodel.

“Are you ready?” Max’s voice is soft and gentle.

A whoosh of air exhales from my lungs. Am I ready?

My husband palms both hands on each side of my cheeks. “I’ll be right next to you if you need me to be. You’ll never be alone.”

“I know,” I say. Max is one in a million.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a random number. I answer anyway.