37. Maggie

CHAPTER 37

MAGGIE

JT wore me out in the very best way. Instead of having dinner, we had the sexy sex, as Viv would say. I’m not complaining, but now I’m hungry. We both drifted off to sleep after our orgasm-fest, and JT’s still snoozing, so I do my very best to slip out of bed stealthily. Unsurprisingly, it’s tough to be stealthy when you’re carrying twenty extra pounds in the shape of a basketball around your midsection. And don’t even get me started on my swollen, puffy ankles.

“What do you need, Maggie?” JT asks drowsily.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, heading into the kitchen. Our apartment is pretty small, so it’s only a few steps, but JT springs into action and follows me to the fridge.

“I promise I can carry a dinner plate,” I deadpan. “I know I eat a lot of brownies, but my dish is not that heavy.”

“Great,” he says, smiling and lifting it from my hands. “Then I can carry it along with mine.”

I know better than to argue, and I know how lucky I am, so I just refill our water bottles and follow him back to our room.

“You don’t mind a picnic, do you?” he asks.

Let’s be clear here. My boyfriend is gorgeous and ripped and oh-so-bendy. He cooks like a dream and cleans a house like it’s his side job. Right now, he’s sprawled out on our bed naked except for his basketball shorts and he actually thinks I’m going to say no to any questions he asks?

Not likely.

“I get to eat and then go to sleep? Those are my two favorite things, so no, I don’t mind.”

He frowns at me. “Really? What have you done with my neat freak, germaphobe girlfriend?”

I shrug. “We already made a total mess of the sheets. I figure a few crumbs won’t hurt.”

JT smiles and looks down at our bed. “Yeah…I might just throw these in the wash after we’re done eating.”

He plies me with orgasms, feeds me homemade brownies, and now he’s talking laundry. Swoon.

I sit on the bed with my legs tucked under me, then turn to my handsome boyfriend. “We should probably talk,” I tell him.

“About how much you love me?” he asks, unable to keep the grin off his face. “We can totally talk about that. Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“I do love you,” I say honestly. “I haven’t said those words very often in my life, and I’ve definitely given them to people who didn’t deserve them. But this is different. You are different.”

JT’s expression turns serious as he cups my jaw. “I love you so damn much, Maggie. I love you, and I love our baby. There is nothing I won’t do for either of you. Nothing.”

“I know, and I love that about you,” I say. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

He nods solemnly and wipes his mouth. “I’ve been thinking, too, and I don’t want you to worry about money or about finding a job right away. My plan is to work at the warehouse full-time this summer. Then, when school starts up and the season begins, I’ll only take shifts when I have to. By then?— ”

I can’t help it. I kiss him. I love him and the way he’s always taking care of us. “I have interviews lined up already. I should be gainfully employed this summer so that you can just focus on school and hockey. Two of the jobs I’m looking at are remote, so I have faith that things will work out the way they’re supposed to. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? Not to stress so much because I’ll miss the good stuff?”

JT returns my kiss and then presses one to my belly. “Your mama is one smart lady, Nugget.”

“That’s what I want to talk about,” I say, caressing the spot he just kissed. “We can’t just call our baby Nugget. We need to pick a name. Or at least put a list together.”

“Oh, shit,” he says, rubbing absently at his bare chest. “How did I forget about this part?”

“I haven’t forgotten, I’m just dreading it. A name is such a huge responsibility.”

“No kidding,” he says with a shake of his head. “So…anything you love? Hate?”

I pull up my Notes app. “I started a list,” I say. “But it’s blank. There’s a just the title Possible Baby Names. So…yeah. Am I already failing the Nugget as a parent? I don’t know what to name them. All I know is that I really don’t want to name our baby after anybody. Like I told you, I was named for Gam, and it just got confusing. Plus, a name is basically an identity and I think everyone should have their own.”

“I can see that,” JT says, scratching at the stubble on his jaw.

“Oh, crap. Unless there’s someone in your family you really want to name the baby after?” We never talk much about his family. I only know he was passed around as a kid and grew up without his parents present, much like I did. “Is there an aunt or uncle or someone you really want to honor?”

JT laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “Not a chance. There’s not a single leaf on my family tree that’s ever getting near Nugget, that I can promise you. I’m not naming our bundle of joy after any of the assholes I’m related to.”

I move my plate aside and reach for him. He does the same and we find ourselves right back where we were a few hours ago, face to face in each other’s arms.

“Sorry,” he says, blowing out a breath. “The people I’m related to are pretty toxic, and I get a little defensive when it comes to you and Nugget.”

I kiss him again because it’s one of my favorite things to do. “No apology necessary. I love the way you love us.”

I’m running my fingers lazily over his muscled chest. “So…no family names. At least we agree on that. Any other dealbreakers?”

JT bites his lip and I know he’s not trying to be sexy, but my man doesn’t have to try. “You’re doing all the heavy lifting here, literally,” he says, his hands back on my belly. “So, I’m not sure how much of a vote I get, but I have one request.”

“Are you going to ask to name our baby after the greatest goalie who ever lived?” I can’t actually name any goalies other than JT, so even though I’m hoping he doesn’t want to gift our baby with the name of some hall-of-famer, I’m realizing I should probably pay more attention to the sport my boyfriend loves so much and plays so well.

He laughs and I sigh with relief. “Nah. Although Fleury has a nice ring to it, no?”

My eyes go wide, and that just makes him laugh harder. “Haha,” I deadpan. “If that’s not your request, then what is?”

“Name this little Nugget whatever you want, just please spell it normally.”

My brow quirks up. “Not a fan of fancy spellings? So J-a-n-e is fine, but J-a-y-n-e is a no-go?”

“Janie’s kinda cute, actually. But yes. No random letters thrown in. No silent letters. Just plain, well…Jane. Or Fiona. Or Andrew. Or Elliot. Pick whatever you like and spell it the way everyone else spells it.”

“That’s fair,” I agree. “But you are usually pretty chill, and you seem pretty intense about this. Does this have anything to do with why you go by JT? And why I still don’t know your real name?”

“JT is my real name,” he says, reaching into the nightstand for his wallet. He pulls out his license and hands it over. Sure enough, he’s listed as JT Norris. “But,” he continues, “that’s because I had it legally changed when I turned eighteen. This,” he says, handing me a battered plastic high school ID card, “is the alphabet soup of a name my drugged-up mother bestowed upon me when I was born. My dad was in jail at the time, so he didn’t get a vote.”

Wow. It’s not lost on me that even though my parents were absent from my life, I was loved by my family. JT never had half of what I did and he’s such an amazing person. It blows me away.

And so does his given name when I get a look at it.

The card is weathered and the JT in the picture is a few years younger. His cheeks are a little rounder and there’s no scruff on his jaw. His hazel eyes are just as mesmerizing, though. His smile is just as lethal. If I’d have met him when we were both in high school, I’d have crushed hard, no question.

“Why is there an h?” I say, staring at the letters that make up Jhaxxsyn Tieylyr Norris.

He shrugs. “Because she was finally back on the good stuff?” he guesses. “Honestly, I have no clue. I’ve had a couple dozen conversations with Brittany Norris over the years, and the bizarre spelling of my name never came up. I went by Jax, mostly, and I never used the h because who the fuck would, but…yeah. Now you know why I changed my name to JT and why I’m a fan of standard spelling.”

I hand the card back to him and he tucks it into his wallet behind his license. “We haven’t really made any progress,” I say, stretching to relieve the tension in my back.

“You ok?” he asks.

“Yes,” I sigh. “Nugget might be protesting the fact that they don’t have a name yet, though, because I’m getting kicked in the spleen,” I say, reaching around to massage my back.

A laugh rumbles from JT’s chest as he hops off the bed and walks around to my side. He lays down behind me, his fingers replacing mine as he soothes away the ache I can’t quite reach. “This is not your spleen, Cinderella.”

“Well, whatever it is, it hurts. And it feels so much better when you do that—yes, the kneading thing. Do that, please.”

He’s got magic hands that ease the pressure on my lower back. But they also produce an ache between my legs. And that causes a whimper to escape my throat. “Ignore me, I just?—”

“Impossible,” JT says, bringing his hand around to the front of my body. His fingers hover over the juncture of my thighs and I swear my hips shift forward of their own volition. “You want me touch you here, too, Maggie?” His voice is rough and low, but gentle.

“Yes, please,” I pant. I should be sleeping. Or doing the dishes. Or studying. Instead, I’m turning into a needy pile of goo at the barest of touches.

His hands go to my hips, and he pulls my body closer to his so that there’s no mistaking the effect I have on him, either. His hand is working its magic between my legs and a laugh escapes my lips as a thought occurs to me.

“Something funny, Cinderella?” he asks, dragging two fingers slowing through my sensitive folds.

“Mmmm,” I hum with pleasure. “I was just thinking our kid may end up nameless because we keep getting distracted.”

As his thick fingers slip inside me, I decide naming the Nugget can wait.