Authors: Carter Ashby
Ivy looked down. “Mine? What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“She just mentioned that you’ve been wearing a lot of stuff that fits kind of…loose. Since we got married.” He looked at her, hoping she’d figure it out without him having to say it outright.
Instead, she just frowned at him. “So? What’s that got to do with anything?”
Jake cleared his throat, sensing he was moving out to where the ice was much thinner. “She commented on how quickly and quietly we got married. She’s got people voting on why that is.”
Ivy’s expression went cold, and she dropped her arms to her sides. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking? Based on gossip?”
Jake shrugged, helpless. He needed to know. “I mean, there have been changes.”
Her arms folded over her chest and an eyebrow cocked up. Not a good sign. “Changes? Do tell.”
“I mean, you were feeling kind of sick the other day.”
She nodded, gesturing for him to continue.
“You’ve been really,” he lowered his voice and glanced around, “horny, lately.”
Her jaw dropped at this.
For some reason he couldn’t comprehend, he opened his mouth and said, “And your jeans have been fitting a little tighter.”
“Oh, my God! You are an idiot, you know that?”
He slumped. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered.
“I’m getting fat? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No, not at all. You’re not getting fat, you look great. Amazing even. It’s just, I’ve noticed the change—”
“You think you haven’t put on weight, Jake?” she grabbed his shirt, lifting it before he could stop her. “Where’s that six-pack, huh? I used to could trace the ridges every time you exhaled. Where is it now?”
He grabbed his shirt and shoved it back down. “It’s hidden under all those cookies you make for me, that’s where.”
“And?”
“And all the big breakfasts and lunches and dinners. The pancakes and the chicken and dumplings and the turkey sandwiches, and…you’re an amazing cook, Ivy!” he shouted at her accusingly.
“Thank you!” she shouted back. “But surprise, I eat, too. We got married, we spend a lot of time in bed, and we’ve packed on a few pounds. So sue me. And I was sick the other night because you made me eat that very questionable Mexican food leftover in your fridge. And as for my being…horny…I’m sorry if I can’t get enough of you, okay? I love you, you stupid ass. I love your body, I love being with you.”
“I love you, too! I wish we could stay naked together all the time!”
“Me, too!”
They ran out of words and breath. And then he looked up at the sky and laughed. “Shit.”
After a long moment, she finally exhaled. “I’m not pregnant. I’m just chubby.”
“You’re not chubby. You look incredible.”
“Shut up. The damage is done and I’m going on a diet as of right now.”
He swooped his arm around her waist and pulled her in, looking down into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I saw Myra’s video and I just freaked. It was stupid. You’re right, I’m an idiot.”
She nodded in agreement. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.” He pushed her hair back and brushed his lips along her cheekbone.
Her breath grew a little airy. “Were you excited or disappointed at the prospect of a baby?”
He kissed beneath her ear. “Neither. Just shocked.”
“Because we talked about it.”
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Just you and me for two years. Then we can talk about it. I remember. No worries, Ivy.”
She smiled sweetly, and he kissed her.
“Now,” he said, pulling her toward Eloise, “let’s go down by the creek and take care of your needs. Can’t have a wife of mine left unsatisfied.”
He climbed up and pulled her on behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and they rode toward the sunset.
The End
I’ve always felt like inspiration for creativity comes from somewhere outside myself. Like there’s some kind of pool of stories that we all have access to if we’ll only tap into it. So first and foremost, thanks to whatever higher power or muse I’m feeding off of to enjoy this creative life.
Writing is an evolving skill. When I started out, it was a very solitary pursuit. As I grow, I’m finding it to be more and more social. Thanks to my local critique group, Amy D., Amy E., Debra, Rexanna, and Robin for your support and your practical, insightful criticisms. You’ve all opened new avenues of information and inspiration to me, as well. Plus you’re just a hoot to be around.
Thanks to everyone who beta read for me: Becky, LB Dunbar, Alexis Noelle, Jessica Hawkins, and the aforementioned critique group. You’ve each left your marks on this book, so I hope it’s something you can be proud of.
Thank you, Cassy Roop, for being a badass cover designer and a really cool person.
Thanks to the ladies in Author BFF’s and to Lia Fairchild for founding that group. I honestly can’t envision my existence as an author without you all.
Thank you, Joe, for your financial support and for believing in me relentlessly and seemingly without reason.
And most importantly, thank you to my three kids for putting up with my scatterbrained behavior and the occasional cereal-for-dinner night. You’re the best part of my life and I hope you’ll one day be proud of me, just as I am of you.
Carter Ashby is a city girl at heart, but a country girl by birth. Her two great passions are motherhood and writing. When not involved in these things, you might find her reading, baking bread, or meditating over a pot of tea. Connecting with readers is one of the primary joys of authorship. You can reach Carter through one of these outlets:
Did you like this story? Here are more books by Carter:
The Big Girl Panties Trilogy
The Fidelity Series
Play It Again (coming soon)