breakfast for someone in my kitchen before.”
“No?” She leaned back against the counter, her hands wrapped around her cup.
“Not like this. I’ve never been big on sleepovers, especially at my house.”
“I’m shocked.”
I stirred my waffle batter. “Be nice, or I won’t say the cute thing I was about to say.”
She laughed. “What’s the cute thing?”
“That I am genuinely enjoying having you here.” I looked over at her. “Brace yourself—I think I like you.”
“Ewwww.” She made a face like she was disgusted.
“I know, right?”
“I suppose it could be an okay thing.” She lifted her coffee to her twitching lips. “Since we’re married and all.”
I glanced at the wedding band on my finger. It was still kind of a shock to see it there—but I didn’t hate it. In fact, I thought it was sort of cool.
“Hey, do you think we should adjust our written contract to reflect the eighty-sixing of the no-sex rule?” Bianca asked.
“Um, I’m not likely to forget sex is now on the menu. Are you?”
She laughed. “No. And you were right—the more times we try, the better our chances.”
“I’m always right, babe, so get used to it.” I paused to enjoy her eye roll. “And just to let you know, I was really focused on the task this morning.”
“I thank you for your professional dedication, but do you have to call it a task?” Her nose wrinkled.
“Sorry. I’ll call it target shooting—that’s more like a hobby, right? Or a sport? An enjoyable leisure activity?” She stuck her tongue out at me, and I had to laugh. “You know, if anybody had told me a year ago I’d be married to Bianca DeRossi and trying to have a baby, I’d have asked him what he was smoking. But here we are.”
“Here we are.”
“And you know what else?” I checked the waffle iron to make sure it was hot. “Since we’re friends now, I’m going to tell you a secret.”
“Oooh!” Her eyes lit up. “Yes, tell me a secret.”
“I thought I’d hate being married, but I kind of like it. It makes me want to do . . .” I pumped a fist in the air. “Drastic and manly things.”
She burst out laughing. “Drastic and manly things? Like what?”
“Well, now that you laughed at me, I’m not going to tell you,” I said haughtily, pouring some batter on the iron.
“No, come on. Tell me. I really want to hear this.”
I shut the lid and faced her. “Okay. So ever since we said I do, sometimes when I look at you, I get this caveman instinct to throw you over my shoulder and growl at any asshole who tries to get close. I know it sounds possessive and sexist and horrible, because you are not my property, but you are my wife.” I shrugged. “And you can call me a pig, but I can’t help it if being a husband brings out that side of me.”
She grinned mischievously. “If I told you I kind of like it, are you going to beat your chest and make ape noises?”
“I might.” I pretended to scratch my armpit like a monkey.
She shook her head like I was a hopeless case. “So, hitting the target . . . This is one of your drastic and manly things?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t help grabbing her waist, setting my hips against hers. “Which means my ego is involved now, and when that happens—look out.”
“Then this is one time when I actually hope to make your ego even bigger.” Then she looked at the ceiling. “God help me.”
On Tuesday after work, I met up with Beckett at the pub for a couple beers. We texted Cole and Griffin to join us, but they were both busy—Cole had to take Mariah somewhere, and Griffin was making dinner for Blair.
“That’s a new one,” Beckett said as we waited for the bartender to pour. “I didn’t even know Griff could cook.”
“I think Blair might have taught him some things.” I shook my head. “But I agree, he’s definitely more domesticated than ever before.”
“What about you?” he asked as two tall glasses of Bulldog Pale Ale were set in front of us. “How’s married life?”
“It’s good, actually.”
“Yeah?” Beckett cocked a brow at me.
“Yeah.” I shrugged and took a drink. “Turns out, I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.”
He laughed. “Maybe because it’s only been four days?”
“Maybe.” I lifted my glass. “But it’s probably because she gave up the no-sex rule.”
“Wait a minute. There was a no-sex rule? How the hell