just tripping along

Alex didn’t say a word, and took a deep breath on his brother’s behalf. It was tense — William’s head hung low while Alex found himself unconsciously clenching his jaw.

Adjusting the iPad in front of them, Alex tapped the green icon.

The standard chime pulsed once.

And then again.

Then Camilla’s face appeared, her expression always loving and warm when her two boys appear on the screen in front of her, though completely unaware that this was not going to be about Christmas logistics.

Camilla spoke first as she wiped her hands on the dish towel draped over her shoulder.

“Hej,” she said brightly. “Well, this is a surprise.”

What caught William, in that split second, was the dish towel.

He’d passed that same patterned towel a million times growing up — never thought twice about it. But now, it was all he could stare at — and what that towel suddenly represented.

That towel represented the simplicity of home. The escape Sweden had always given him.

Their kitchen in Sweden.

William wandering in hungry, puttering around without a care, opening the pantry cupboards in search of his favourite Swedish foods his parents always kept stocked.

Alex shifted next to him which broke his distant gaze, and William felt his chest tighten again.

In a moment, everything was going to change.

Michael appeared in view, and Alex felt William tense beside him — almost as though he was about to confess he’d broken one of Michael’s favourite artifacts.

Even though the brothers were grown men sitting side by side on William’s couch, it suddenly felt like they were kids again — lined up, waiting to tell their parents they’d busted the drywall. Once again. From an overly rambunctious game of mini-sticks.

After a few seconds passed, which felt much longer, Camilla’s smile softened.

“This doesn’t feel like a check-in,” she said gently.

William’s jaw tightened. He glanced down, adjusted his glasses again, then looked back up at the screen.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s not.”

Though the boys couldn’t see it, Michael placed his hand on the small of Camilla’s back — grounding, maybe even bracing them both for the impact of what was coming next.

Michael cleared his throat, his voice low and without a hint of intimidation. “Okay, you can tell us….whatever it is.”

William looked at his parents and took a deep breath.

“Melanie’s pregnant.”

William said the words as he exhaled.

Alex’s eyes darted from William’s tired face to his parents’ subdued, but clearly shocked expression.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Camilla recovered first.

“I see,” she said carefully. “And… how far along is she?”

“Early,” William replied. “Maybe 6 weeks or so. She’s uh, got an appointment with the doctor next week.”

His voice was soft, his gaze dropping to the floor rather than meeting his parents’ faces.

Michael cleared his throat as Camilla looked up at him by her shoulder.

“So….was—was this planned?”

Michael had always joked — only to himself, and sometimes to Camilla — that if anyone were going to end up in this position, it would have been Alex. Alex lived closer to….impulsiveness. William had always erred on the side of caution. Apparently, life had its way of humbling Michael, and his assumptions.

William rubbed his face, shook his head, then reclined back against the couch, lacing his fingers behind his head.

“No,” he said. “It was not planned.”

Without even exchanging a glance, Camilla and Michael felt their son’s tone. William’s response told them everything—the baby news wasn’t something he was eased into gently.

With that understanding, William’s parents bypassed any urge to lecture him about safe sex.

Instead, Camilla glanced at her eldest son with a softness in her eyes, and Michael had a conversation with Alex through silence and expressions only.

Camilla cleared her throat, her eyes drifting down from William’s. The tiniest smile appeared across her face. “Thank you for telling us, älskling,” she said gently. “Is—is… Melanie there?”

William paused. His nervous system flared, his hand sifting through his beard, then to the side of his neck.

Alex interjected, his eyes locked on their father’s expression.

“She’s… getting her things from her place,” he said. “She’ll be—uh—staying here. Living here. Going forward.”

Once Alex’s words met air, William expelled a small breath, grateful that his brother spoke for him. However, the gratitude he felt suddenly vanished, replaced with a weight in his chest.

His new reality.

A reality that would not only alter his and Melanie’s life, but one that would inevitably affect Alex’s. William could feel himself shrink inside with guilt.

His brother meant the world to him. However, as the universe steered William toward his fate, the impact on Alex’s life would be felt as well.

His comfort in William’s condo. The ease they’d fallen into with living and playing in the same city. All of it about to change with Melanie moving in and the arrival of the baby.

With the surprise now revealed, the conversation mercifully and quietly shifted towards the upcoming Christmas break. Schedules, shopping lists, tidbits of news about extended family were discussed, all with a slight air of tension and uncertainty.

Even still, Michael and Camilla were stoic and showed unwavering support, warmth and affection towards both William and Alex. They wished the boys well in their upcoming games. When the FaceTime ended, William slumped back against the couch and rested his forearms across his eyes as he spoke to Alex.

“Thanks for that,” William said quietly. “I never knew how hard it was going to be until I saw their faces.”

Alex paused before he spoke. There was so much going on in his mind that he wasn’t sure which thought to start with.

So Alex chose to say nothing. He gave William’s knee a couple of taps as he stood up, while recommending they should go out to a nearby Filipino restaurant for dinner.

Alex had a fleeting thought that this might be one of the last times, for a good long while, that he and William could hang out—just the two of them.

─────── ✦ ───────

Just as swiftly as winter arrived, Melanie and her belongings began to fill William’s condo.

She was meticulous, task-oriented, and organized. It didn’t take long for the space to go from “his” to “theirs” in William’s wardrobe, bathroom vanity, and walk-in closet.

Alex and William gathered the last of Melanie’s boxes from the gleaming foyer floor and set them down with a gentle thud beside the doors of William’s dressing room.

Alex glanced towards William and quickly assessed that his older brother was still in the midst of processing the changes happening in front of his eyes.

Alex scratched the side of his beard. “You good?”

William nodded. “Yeah, good. I’m good. You heading out now?”

“In a few minutes. Oh yeah, and don’t wait up tonight….got something happening later.”

William flashed a smirk, clearly knowing exactly the kind of “something” Alex was planning for. William was minimally surprised that this was the third week that his brother had “something” happening later.

William followed-up with a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, okay….have fun. And wrap it up. Mom and Dad don’t need another surprise grandchild on the way.”

Alex was already halfway to his room, shirt off and twirling it above his head. “You know they figured it would be me first, right? Thanks for breaking down that wall for me so I don’t have to worry about it anymore,” he laughed as he disappeared from sight.

William shook his head at his brother’s last remark and went into the kitchen to grab his water.

The crack of the metal bottle cap opening was barely distinguishable above Melanie’s movements in his—wait…no—their closet. The opening and closing of drawers. Her playlist streaming and her half-singing, half-humming during parts of the song.

William’s mind wandered as he took a robotic sip of the luxury still water from the glass bottle. He held the water in his mouth for an extended moment before swallowing.

He looked at some of the “new-to-him kitchen” items which poked out of a moving box on the counter and sighed.

William knew this was the natural progression of his and Melanie’s relationship, now that they were expecting. But he couldn’t shake the unease of it. And that feeling was beginning to stack up both at home and on the ice.

He was frustrated with the Leafs’ record, which by December had nearly as many losses as wins. Though he led the team in points, it made no difference if the team didn’t start winning actual games. William was working through injuries, but he came to the grim realization that he simply wasn’t bouncing back as quickly as he did a few years ago.

He tried not to allow any negativity to seep into his home life. But even as he stood there while his now pregnant girlfriend moved in, he felt unsettled. The sounds that surrounded him seemed amplified. Like Melanie’s upbeat music that drifted from his bedroom. Normally he might sing along or do some subtle dance moves. Today the music just gnawed at him.

He set the water bottle down but kept his hand wrapped around it. His eyes scanned the room. Boxes stacked against the wall. Newspaper and bubble wrap tossed into a large bin. Wooden hangers clacked as their metal hooks slid along the rod in the closet.

Lost in the thoughts that swirled in his head, he told himself again that this was the natural progression of things. He tried to ground himself. But he couldn’t avoid the heaviness in his chest — in his limbs — which suggested something about it was anything but natural.

William didn’t notice the growing silence from the closet after the music stopped.

He only noticed when Melanie called for him.

“Willy? Can you come here for a sec?”

He paused briefly, a quiet exhale escaping before his grip loosened entirely from the bottle as he pivoted and started down the hallway, his dogs close behind like his entourage.

He entered the bedroom and spotted articles from his wardrobe spread out over the bed, the sofa and the armchairs. The sight took him off guard.

“Mel, you don’t need to do all of this in one day,” he said as he approached the door of his dressing room.

He leaned against the doorframe as Melanie locked eyes with him, standing behind an upright box that reached the height of her hip.

She looked at him with a slight air of concern and confusion. “Why do you still have this?”

William’s eyebrows knotted together. “Not sure—what ‘this’ do you mean?”

Melanie reached into the box, and pulled out an ivory negligée. The mere way that she had hooked one of the straps onto her index finger and dangled the sheer garment felt accusatory in every way. “Is this hers?”

Loren’s things had been boxed up while William was away on a road trip awhile back. His assistant had left a note asking where to send the box, but without an answer, he simply slid it to the back of the closet.

Before he could answer, Melanie let the lingerie drop back into the box and fished around for something else. She pulled out and unfolded a pair of jeans and held them up in front of her.

Her expression changed as she tried not to smirk. “Well…these are….roomy. Girl liked her pasta, eh?”

William pushed off from the doorframe and took the jeans, re-folded them and put them back in the box. “Somethin’ wrong with pasta, Mel?”

Melanie seemed satisfied that William appeared a little rattled. “I’m not body shaming her - I was just making an observation.”

William shook his head slightly before closing up the flaps of the box, indicating he wasn’t buying it.

“I sort of forgot about this. Had it packed up but didn’t know where to send it.” He was quiet with his admission.

Melanie raised her eyebrows and tilted her head with interest. “You don’t know—like, you’re…not in contact with her?”

William’s answer was simple. “No.”

Melanie’s perfectly shaped brows lowered. She appeared pleasantly surprised. “Huh,” was her final remark before slowly grabbing one of her velvet hangers.

William slid the box toward the door. “I’ll put this somewhere else until I figure out what to do with it.”

Melanie was already turned away from William, surveying a pile of her clothes that were next to be hung. “Yeah, that’ll be good, babe,” she said with an air of satisfaction.

He closed the flaps of the box trying not to look at the contents inside.

“You okay? You need anything?” William asked trying to hit his typical nonchalant tone.

Before lifting the box, he paused and briefly studied Melanie. He wanted to see if she was irritated—maybe annoyed….or even flustered before he left the room. Discovering some of Loren’s belongings probably wasn’t what she was expecting.

Melanie shook her head and continued to hang some of her higher end outfits. If she was irritated, she wasn’t showing it. “I’m good,” she said lightly, smiling to herself.

William lifted the weighted box and as the contents shifted and clattered, he suddenly realized how fragile some of Loren’s belongings were.

He padded down the hallway into Alex’s room and carefully set the box down on the carpet.

William surveyed his brother’s room and the mess that he had long accepted was part of Alex’s nature.

He scoffed and shook his head and refocused on the box.

He rested his hands on his hips and continued to stare at the box flaps that were loosely closed, contemplating for less than a second whether he should open them.

He told himself “No” and opened the closet door, spotting a corner where the box could be stored until…well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Pablo and Banksy had followed William, and both dogs wandered into the closet sniffing Alex’s bags, suitcases….even uncovering a shirt of William’s that he figured had been lost forever.

When William lifted the box again to move it to the desired spot, the sound of clinking glass had him setting the box back down.

He sat on the upholstered ottoman at the end of Alex’s bed and decided to rip the proverbial band aid off, opening the box by quickly pulling the cardboard flaps open.

William stopped. He slowly lifted out the pair of jeans Melanie had casually deemed “roomy”, placing them with gentle care on the floor next to the box. The ivory negligee that Melanie had dangled from her finger was next — the one William had bought Loren for her 30th birthday.

His heart raced as images of Loren flooded back as he peered into the box again.

Lingerie. One of her favourite knit sweaters. Her one and only playoff WAG jacket.

He pulled out a box lined with velour which held a few pieces of gold jewelry. William had always marveled how beautiful yellow gold looked against her olive skin, especially when the gold jewelry was all she was wearing, and nothing else.

He kept going.

Her perfume. Her French styling products. Her hairbrush.

Banksy’s tail wagged enthusiastically as he pressed his nose against Loren’s belongings. He sniffed each article and circled back multiple times to her hairbrush and sweater. Pablo laid next to the jeans, his tail thumping lightly against the carpet.

William watched his beloved dogs, almost smiling with each wag of recognition. But his smile faltered as he wondered if the boys might expect her to walk through the door now…and be confused when she didn’t.

William’s gaze lingered on the box of jewelry in his hands. He set the box down and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

You chose this.

The thought entered like a jolt.

A cruel image of his and Loren’s last conversation—him stammering of why he couldn’t fully “get there” with his commitment to her. How deep down, William had once assumed that somehow they’d talk again after time elapsed and repair the fracture.

But then of course, he was too ashamed to reach out to Loren. And so he chose the path of ease and comfort, finding himself in lock-step with Melanie later in the off-season.

William picked up the sweater quickly and dropped it back into the box. The jeans followed. Then the jewelry. The hairbrush.

The dogs watched intently as each item was hastily placed back inside. William slammed the flaps shut, and pushed the box into the corner of Alex’s closet.

He stood there, chest slightly heaving, and wiped his hands on his pants, as though trying to get rid of the ache through his palms.

He stepped back into the hallway and glanced back to door of the master suite where the music and the sound of hangers sliding against the metal rod had resumed. He took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen where his phone could serve as a distraction.

Later that evening, as the early darkness of December cloaked the city, white lights shimmered like diamond clusters in the tree branches outside William’s bedroom window. He lay on his back, watching Melanie move above him, the rhythm in her hips quickening as she reached her release.

In this light, she felt like a far cry from the woman he had watched earlier that day—methodical, almost surgical in the way she had integrated her clothes, shoes, and accessories into his closet. Her cool—almost dismissive—tone when he’d approached her with the smallest comment or suggestion.

Now, she looked down at him with a slow grin, biting her bottom lip as her thighs tightened, her knees pressing against his ribs as the rhythm of her movements became more frantic. William knew from her movements and sounds that she was close. His hands were soon secured around her waist, and he instinctively knew how to move beneath her and let her take what she needed from him.

Her fingers closed around his wrists as she came, gripping hard enough that his skin twisted white beneath her hold. William winced before he could stop himself, the jolt of discomfort dissipating almost as quickly as it arrived. The low sound that slipped from him as her fingers relaxed could have easily been mistaken for pleasure, but it was more relief from the sudden pinch than anything else.

William kept moving, working Melanie through the final seconds of her climax. Her upper body lowered onto his, her mouth hot against his neck as he held her in place. A few moments later, his own release followed, physical satisfaction spreading through William’s body.

After a handful of minutes passed, once Melanie slid off of William and pressed her back against him, the physical satisfaction began to drift away.

William was left with the unsettled quiet of his condo.

He remained on his back, one arm cradled the back of his head, while his other hand rested against Melanie’s hip. He listened to the world continuing to move outside, the sounds of thousands of other lives muffled between the buildings that surrounded him.

William lay there focusing on nothing really, which allowed his mind to process the fragments of the day.

Melanie’s movement in the condo.

The music. His clothing piled on his bed waiting to be strategically placed back in the closet.

Their brief conversation about Loren’s jeans.

His throat tightened with the thought.

After Melanie’s “roomy” comment, followed by her harmless-on-the-surface remark about Loren’s pasta consumption, William realized that he’d finally—at least lightly—challenged Melanie’s quip about his former girlfriend.

It was something he had never done before. Melanie’s brazen remarks always landed like a cobra strike, then withdrawn before William could decide whether he had the right to reprimand her.

Melanie would say things like:

Awh - she’s cute, Willy. I didn’t think you were into round hips and cleavage

What did you say she did for a living? Doesn’t sound like stable employment. You gotta be careful, Willy…

Does she know you still keep in touch with your ex and whatever other girls you’ve got buried in your contacts? Or would she get pissy like your other girls of the moment did?

Each quip was only met with a small scoff, but William’s crooked grin always softened it:

Mel. C’mon. That’s not nice.

A warning with absolutely zero weight behind it.

He shook his head and closed his eyes. Disappointment settled in him for all the little ways he could have protected Loren. All the little ways he could have shown her, visibly, that she mattered to him as much as he mattered to her.

Loren was almost fearless in the way she showed him he mattered to her.

Not just through the physical gifts she gave him. Not just through her playful, sensual approach to pleasing him. It was in how freely she cared for him, and for the people who mattered to him.

A memory suddenly seeped into his mind, as though touching her jeans earlier had opened a portal into the past.

Those jeans.

The way the denim fit her curves. The way he used to watch her walk by, his eyes helplessly drawn to the roundness of her ass. Jeans existed because of bodies like hers.

She wore them one night as she made him one of his favourite pasta dishes.

Loren had once teased the owner of one of William’s preferred Italian restaurants that she wanted to try and make a reasonable facsimile of one of William’s go-to dishes. She had tried to coax a few trade secrets from him, but he shook his head and dramatically lifted his palms in teasing protest, insisting he couldn’t possibly. The owner knew they would lose their most famous patron to such a beautiful chef, and really, they simply could not risk that.

But… Loren had somehow managed to get a couple of generic hints instead.

So, on a rare day off for her and just a practice day for him, Loren had said nothing more to William than that she wanted to cook dinner that night. William knew he was in for a treat, and his kiss at the doorway was as much a can’t wait as it was a hurry back.

He watched her in those jeans as she set off into the streets of Yorkville to procure the freshest ingredients she could find.

She returned later while William was napping and quietly began to orchestrate dinner.

Homemade everything, except the pasta itself. She hadn’t had time for that, and she wanted to focus on the sauce, the sides, and all the little accoutrements she had deemed essential.

William eventually woke and wandered out toward the kitchen, yawning for the second time in a row. He was drawn by the smell of sautéed garlic and fresh bread drifting through the expanse of his condo.

If the growl in his stomach hadn’t slowed his approach, the sight of Loren did.

She stood at the stove with her hair gathered into a bun, loose curls framing her face. Her headphones were on, her phone propped nearby as a movie played quietly on the screen. Knowing her the way he did, it was probably something she had already seen a million times. That was her thing. Background noise that soothed her while she stirred and assessed and tasted, hoping the meal would turn out excellent. Better than excellent, if she was really lucky.

He loved watching her when she had no idea she had an audience.

Loren in his kitchen. Loren in those jeans. Loren spending her day planning some incredibly thoughtful act of care for him.

He fit himself behind her as she stirred the glossy rosé sauce, and gently removed her headphones and tapped pause on her movie while his mouth swept over the nape of her neck.

She shuddered and giggled helplessly as his lips found that sensitive place just below her hairline, the one that always smelled so good.

She set down the spatula and leaned back against his body.

“I hope you don’t do this to the chefs at the restaurant,” she said softly. “I think they’d find it pretty distracting.”

William imagined himself wrapping around one of the burly chefs from the restaurant and laughed against her neck. He pressed into her a little more.

“I might never need to go back,” he murmured. “This smells incredible. You’re spoiling me.”

Loren smiled, her attention drifting back towards the sauce. “You were already spoiled long before I met you.”

William’s mouth dropped. “Ouch…wait a sec…”

“Awh….” she teasingly pouted her lips before turning into a smile.

“But…” she continued, giggling before he could say anything in his own defense, “I like the way you like my food. And I like you in general, so I’m happy to keep you spoiled.”

William huffed a laugh against her neck. “Din lilla besserwisser.”

Loren cocked an eyebrow, turning just enough to look at him over her shoulder.

“Smart ass,” he translated.

Loren mimicked him, letting her mouth drop open the same way his had when she called him spoiled.

His grin pressed into her skin again. “And yeah….what’s with this like nonsense?”

Loren pretended not to know what he was talking about. “Hmmm?”

“You said you like me in general.” His arms slowly tightened around her waist, slightly swaying to imaginary music. “You know you love me.”

“Yes, William. I love you.”

Loren paused, forcing herself to swallow her smile. “Terribly inconvenient for all my other boyfriends, but here we are,” she muttered quietly.

“Excuse me?” he chuckled.

“What?”

“Other boyfriends, eh?”

Loren opened her mouth, then paused. “Yeah… no. I can’t even joke about that.”

His smile softened against her skin.

She turned to face him, her mouth brushing against his. “So I guess….yes, I love you. Very much.”

“I love you too,” he murmured back.

His stomach chose that exact moment to grumble.

Loren’s eyes drifted down to his midriff. “Getting hungry it seems.”

“I missed my snack in bed earlier,” he said, his eyes settling on her lips.

“Well… you were sleeping.”

“Still missed it.”

“I was making you dinner.”

“Yeah… I know.” His arms tightened around her waist. “But I missed you when I woke up.”

Loren slid her arms around his neck. “I’ll make sure you get a bedtime snack after I tuck you in tonight.”

She teased his bottom lip with a kiss first, then another, before finally committing to kissing him deeply when his hands cupped her ass and pulled her closer.

They almost missed the tsk Alex let out as he meandered into the kitchen.

“Loren’s ass is gonna get burned on the stove if you don’t watch it,” Alex scoffed as he passed them on his way to the fridge. He mumbled something about too much PDA for the kitchen, but let the words trail off.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep my hands to myself in familial areas,” Loren said, shooting William a slight wink before turning back toward the stove.

“It’s not you, Lor. It’s him,” Alex corrected with a nod toward William, the jest clear in his voice.

William chuckled. “Yeah, and? It’s my place.”

Loren looked over her shoulder just in time to see William lightly shove his little brother. She smiled to herself as she salted the now-boiling pot of water intended for the rigatoni.

“S’there enough for me?” Alex asked, sliding in next to Loren as she reached for her basil plant. It was one of the small row of potted herbs lined along the window, all of them well cared for, all of them Loren’s. Fresh herbs were the only addition to William’s kitchen she had ever requested, and did she ever put them to good use in her creations.

She selected each fragrant leaf with care, plucking them one by one from the stem and gathering them in her palm. Then she glanced at Alex and smiled as she tore the basil over the sauce, decorating the bubbling rosé with flecks of deep green.

“Grab a piece of bread.”

Alex obliged, sliding over the platter with the loaf of crusty bread resting beneath a linen towel.

Loren stirred the sauce again, the scent of garlic, basil, and cream rising from the pan.

“I made enough with you in mind,” she said, “but before you commit, taste it first. If you don’t like it, at least you can exit without completely shattering my confidence.”

William slipped in between them, tearing Alex’s chunk of bread in half and keeping part of it for himself. “Hold up. I haven’t even had a chance to try it. She made it for me, after all.”

Loren kissed his cheek. “Sorry, älskling, but you’re stuck here with me whether you like it or not. I just thought Alex could be my sacrificial lamb.”

Loren always seemed to be that way with Alex. Tender at first, then lovingly skewering him afterward.

She spooned a small dollop of sauce onto each piece of bread and held her breath. She didn’t want the sauce to just be good. She wanted a physical reaction.

Whether the groans and eye-rolls were entirely heartfelt or kindly meant as a confidence boost, William’s soft “holy fuck” felt genuine enough that Loren couldn’t help reacting.

She tried to hide her smile. She tried not to beam.

She failed.

By the time dinner ended, Alex had eaten two servings and mopped up the last of the sauce from his plate with a piece of bread.

Alex groaned as he leaned back in his chair, satisfied and a little drowsy. “Now I wish I didn’t have plans - fuck, I’m full. That was unreal, Lor.”

Loren was starting to feel the consequences of her own cooking, the waist of her jeans beginning to feel tighter than she would have liked. She flashed Alex a tired smile and thanked him for his resounding approval.

Alex grabbed his jacket and slid it on almost begrudgingly. He stood and gave Loren an affectionate side-hug and complimented her again, asking her to save some dessert for him too.

William rolled his eyes and began to collect plates to take to the kitchen. “Count yourself lucky that she’s as nice as she is - she’s not your personal chef.”

“She does it because she loves me,” Alex said with a crooked smile.

Loren chuckled. “Wait - who’s she again?”

Alex teasingly blew Loren a kiss.

Loren turned to William as he walked back from the kitchen. “Remind me what you called me earlier… in Swedish?”

He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

Her eyes drifted back to Alex. “Din lilla besserwisser.”

He paused, cocking an eyebrow at Loren. “That’s… uh… hotter than it should’ve been.”

Loren just laughed and shook her head.

“Bro. Just go. Jesus.” William waved Alex off like the lovable pest he could be as he disappeared through the foyer toward the door.

William glanced back at Loren, her head resting against the back of the chair, eyes closed. The moment she heard the front door click shut, she exhaled and mumbled something about needing to be rolled into the kitchen.

“Tabarnak,” she muttered.

William leaned toward her and ran the backs of his knuckles along her forearm. “Are you—”

She lifted her head slightly, looked down at her stomach, and huffed out another breath. “Just don’t judge me,” she laughed as she popped open the button of her jeans and lowered the zipper all the way down.

“My God, that’s better,” she sighed. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on the edge of the table.

“You’re uh…fighting for your life right now, eh?” William teased.

She nodded and chuckled at herself. She figured she probably looked ridiculous.

“There’s this song called Dead & Bloated by Stone Temple Pilots,” she said, her words slightly muffled against the table.

William smirked with a little laugh. “Okay?”

“I’m singing it in my head right now.”

William reached over and slowly rubbed her back. He was completely charmed by her in that moment. Her with her head down, jeans undone and left open, referencing songs that he could only assume weren’t about rainbows and cotton candy.

“Here,” he said, standing and holding out his hand. “C’mon with me, Bobby Flay. I’ll help you get out of those jeans.”

Loren lifted her head.

The mention of William taking off her jeans seemed to have the effect of smelling salts. She lifted her head, suddenly looking a little less dead and bloated than she had five minutes earlier.

“Damn - we should have done that first and then had dinner,” she said, reaching for his hand. “Terrible planning on my part.”

“Told ya,” William purred, sliding in behind Loren. His hands roamed from her hips to the warm skin of her stomach as he guided her toward the bedroom. “I really missed you being in bed earlier.”

The second the words left his mouth, he wondered if they sounded unappreciative. Or selfish. Or both.

“But I know you were busy creating that masterpiece,” he added, resting his lips at the base of her neck. “It really was incredible. Thank you, älskling.”

Loren’s hands covered his where they rested against her stomach.

“You’re welcome,” her voice warm.

They passed through the doorway of his bedroom, their bodies still pressed together.

And then William began to show his gratitude.

He gripped the denim along the outside of her thighs and slowly worked her jeans down around her hips, her underwear sliding lower with them. His hand settled against her lower stomach, warm and soothing.

One of his hands slipped beneath her tank top, cupping her gently as his mouth found her neck again. She whispered his name and covered his hand with hers.

The other hand moved lower, following the open zipper until his fingers slid beneath the elastic of her underwear.

Loren gasped, her other hand closing around his wrist.

William’s hold intensified. “So fucking beautiful, Lor…seriously—you’re fucking beautiful.”

For a few seconds, she let herself melt into him. Her head tipped back, relaxed in his arms while aware and very pleased with feeling the press of his body behind hers.

Then she suddenly tensed.

“Oh, God.”

William’s hands stilled. “What?”

He craned his neck trying to see her face.

Loren’s eyes widened as an impolite sound rolled low in her belly.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered, already trying to wriggle free. “I need to excuse myself before I accidentally recreate that post-colonoscopy fart reel we howled at last week.”

William raised his eyebrows as a smile crept across his face.

He looked delighted by the idea of Loren breaking wind in front of him. God knew they both had a nine-year-old’s sense of humour when it came to that subject.

But in this moment, the thought mortified her. She was not prepared for this next step in their relationship, especially not with her dignity on the line. There were far too many unknowns. Sound. Smell. Duration. Possibly him never letting her live it down.

She had been the epitome of a domestic goddess that night, and now that image was seconds away from being shattered—brought down by garlic and heavy cream.

She turned and flashed William a look that was one part self-deprecation, two parts embarrassment, with a pinch of panic. Then she covered her face and laughed a little at herself.

William laughed as she hurried into the ensuite, jeans still low on her hips. A second later, the faucet turned on full force, followed by the bathroom fan.

He leaned against the doorway and decided to tease her a little.

He knocked gently. “Hey, uh… I just realized I need to grab something in there.”

He started to turn the doorknob, and he could hear Loren shuffle to the door and lean against it.

She was half-laughing. “I call bullshit, William. You just want to torment me.”

“C’mon. It’d be entertaining,” William coaxed.

“Hard no,” she retorted.

William paused, then decided to give her a moment to expel whatever she needed to privately.

He crawled onto his bed and sprawled out, full and content and absolutely enamoured with his loving girlfriend.

After some time, Loren emerged in her bra and underwear. William turned his head and grinned at the sight of her.

“Better?”

Loren smiled almost shyly. “Much better, thank you.”

“Want one of my shirts?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Yes, please.”

She spotted one draped over a bench and held it up for his approval.

His gaze was steady and soft as he watched her undo her bra and pull the shirt on. “I got the bed nice and warm for you. Come on in. It’s comfy.”

Loren climbed up as he pulled back the sheets, then snuggled in next to him at his invitation.

Pablo and Banksy soon jumped up, the four bodies—two furry, one somewhat furry, and one not—all settled in and satisfied together.

Loren reveled in the abundance of hair on William’s forearm, stroking it lightly as he spooned her. “We can watch something if you want.”

William grazed the back of her shoulder with his lips. “You’re gonna fall asleep.”

Loren knew he wasn’t wrong. Chances were that she’d be conked out after the first 10 minutes of whatever they were watching.

This wasn’t exactly what Loren had imagined for her and William after dinner.

Loren’s hand slowed on his forearm. “I’m sorry, William.”

William’s immediate confusion had him gently pulling her close again. “Sorry for what?”

“For ruining the mood a little,” she confessed softly.

William didn’t know what to feel first, only that none of it was disappointment.

“Loren. Lor—you did not come close to ruining anything.”

She resumed stroking his arm. “It’s just—I had plans for more….after dessert…you know.”

“Yeah…but…,” William tried to hone in on exactly what he wanted to say. “You don’t think this is what I would want?”

Loren hesitated. “I—I guess I figured the natural ending would be sex….which I would honestly love…but I’m afraid of my innards having their own plans…,” she chuckled sheepishly.

William breathed a laugh into her hair. His heart felt full and sad in the same beat. She had spent her spare hours preparing something exquisite for him, and because her plans had been slightly derailed, she was lying there feeling like she’d let him down.

He hated that she could give him so much and still worry it wasn’t enough.

“Lor,” he said softly, kissing a line across her shoulder. “I want you. You know I want you.”

He felt a smile forming on her lips.

“But this?” He rested his forehead against her head. “I really love this, too.”

She went quiet for a moment, her mind churning over something, then let out a little huff.

“What?” William smiled.

“The dessert I made has ginger and honey as part of the glaze. It was meant to soothe your stomach, so I actually was thinking…”

His grin widened. “What did you make?”

“Glazed poached pears. You said you liked pears, right?”

He nodded as he ran his hand along her abdomen. “But tomorrow, yeah? We’re both stuffed, and you fit perfectly right here.”

He kissed her skin and told her he loved her.

After he found the series they’d started and pressed resume, Loren drifted off, as suspected, twelve minutes into the fourth episode. William glanced at her profile with a faint smile as her breath touched his hand.

He’d eventually end up back in the kitchen to do a quick cleanup, sneak the smallest taste of her dessert, and spend the rest of the night full, relaxed, and very much in love.

The warm memory suddenly fizzled out, and he was back in the darkness of his room.

Melanie shifted next to him, finally turning back toward William, her cold feet searching for warmth against his legs.

William inhaled a long breath through his nose and exhaled as he carefully turned toward her. His hand glided to the dip of her waist, and he let himself imagine the roundness her belly would carry in a few short months.

His eyes focused on Melanie’s face.

You brought yourself here.

His fingers settled against her abdomen.

Your life is changing.

He didn’t know how to feel ready.

You have to become ready.

This was where he was now.