29. Dalton

TWENTY-NINE

"Back up!" Dia says, attempting to swat at me with the spatula while I lean over her shoulder. We decided to take turns cooking breakfast, so today, she's making pancakes. And not those shitty Power Cakes the guys love so much. I'm talking, not-from-a-box, homemade flapjacks. She swears it's a secret recipe she got off the internet when she was a kid, but they smell amazing and I'm doing my best to commit the ingredients to memory so I can make them myself in the future.

"Fine," I say, holding my hands up in surrender. I move back, just barely, and take her in. She looks freshly fucked, thanks to me and my very insistent morning wood, wearing a pair of panties under one of my old college football t-shirts. She almost looks as good in scarlet and gray as she does in Blizzard colors. Almost. Her hair is up in a messy bun that leans slightly to one side, and she has a pair of my athletic socks pulled up her calves for extra warmth. I know I say it all the time, but she's more beautiful than ever right now.

She turns off the stove, plating the pancakes and setting them on the island in the middle of the kitchen. I've already set out the maple syrup, butter, and my personal favorite pancake topping, whipped cream. I'll have to bump up the intensity of this afternoon's workout to burn off all this sugar, but it'll be worth it. I reach over, grabbing Dia by the waist and plopping her down on the counter. She swings her feet against the cupboards below as she adds her toppings. When she's finished, I add my butter and syrup. She's too busy cutting her food on the plate that sits beside her to notice the shady look on my face as I spray a mountain of whipped cream onto my stack, accidentally angling it just right so that a small amount sputters onto her exposed thigh. She slowly meets my eyes, giving me a suspicious look, but I do my best to look innocent.

"Oops," I say. "Sorry, babe. Let me get that." I give her a guilty smirk as she shakes her head. The corners of her lips are tipped up, and I can tell she's equal parts annoyed and amused. I lean forward, pressing my tongue to her smooth skin, slowly licking at the drops of whipped cream, which have now started melting against her warmth. She tries to hold in her ragged breathing but fails miserably as I move upward. And when she tightens her fingers in my hair, I know I've won the battle.

Before I can fully ascend to the heaven between her legs, the doorbell rings, making us both jump. My building is pretty secure and there are only a handful of people on the list to get up here, none of which I'm expecting, so I assume maybe it's maintenance or the concierge.

"Don't fucking move. I'll be right back," I say, more to her pussy than to her, before hurrying out of the kitchen and to the door. As I look out the peephole, my blood runs cold.

Fuck. She's going to be so pissed.

I swing the door open. "Mom! Dad!" I say, fake excitement masking the underlying fear of how my wife is going to react to this very unexpected visit. "What are you guys doing here?"

They step inside, walking past me like they've done a million times before. I close the door, nervously following, thinking as fast as I can of ways to keep them from going into the kitchen. Dia will freak out if this is how she meets them for the first time.

"Benton has a game against Boston tomorrow, so we thought we'd come a day early and see our other pride and joy. How are you, baby?" my mom asks, giving me a tight hug.

"Good," I say. "I was actually just getting ready for my workout with Blaze. I wish I knew you were coming. I'd have cancelled." I love you both, but please fucking leave before I get in trouble.

"No need for that, Champ," my dad says, using my childhood nickname. "We just stopped by on our way to check in to the hotel. Benny said he gave you some extra tickets to the game, and maybe we can grab a bite when you're done at the gym." My dad has always put an emphasis on not slacking off during the offseason, so I knew the workout bit would do the trick.

I nod. "Sounds good," I reply, relieved that I'm almost home free. "I'll call you when I'm on my way home." I start ushering them back toward the door, just as Dia's voice rounds the corner behind us.

"Who was it?" she asks, stopping dead in her tracks when she sees that I'm not alone. Her eyes are wide, and her skin goes pale as she yanks at the hem of my t-shirt that only comes down to her upper thighs.

Please baby Jesus. Help me out of this and I promise I'll never kill another spider as long as I live. Not even the big, hairy ones that could murder me in my sleep.

I look from her to my parents, who are standing expectantly, waiting for an introduction. "Mom. Dad. This is Dia," I say, leaving out her last name because all three of them will need to be eased into this conversation. But fuck it. They're here, so we might as well have it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Davis," she says, stepping forward and extending her hand. "It's nice to meet you." I can tell she's nervous, but I'm so fucking proud of her for not running away. We'll face this together, just like we have every other speed bump that's been set in our path. My parents shake her hand, each giving her a gracious smile, but they're obviously a little confused. I never let the women I sleep with meet them, so I'm sure they have questions.

I clear my throat as Dia steps back toward me, clearly needing to feel my closeness. "Why don't you guys sit down?" I say. They walk quietly to the couch as I turn to my wife, trying my best to reassure her. "They're the best people I know," I whisper so only she can hear me. "I promise this will be okay. Please trust me."

She stands there for several moments, nervously chewing on her bottom lip before she gives me a small nod of agreement. "Alright. Let me go put some shorts on, though."

I blow out a breath in relief, quickly kissing her forehead before she takes off down the hall and I turn to where my parents are sitting in the living room.

"Honey, we didn't mean to interrupt," my mom whispers. "We didn't know you brought jersey chasers back here now. We'd have called." She isn't using the term in a mean way. The woman doesn't have a malicious bone in her body. That's just what we've always called my hook-ups…because that's what they were.

I look behind me to make sure Dia didn't hear that before I turn back, lowering my voice. "She's not a jersey chaser," I tell them. "I love her. I'll explain everything." My mom's eyes light up just as my wife re-enters the room, now wearing her own clothes. I take her hand, lacing our fingers together as she looks up and gives me the best smile she can muster. When she nods, I know that's the green light to tell them whatever I need to.

So, I tell them everything.

I tell them how I knew Dia was different the very second I laid eyes on her. About how we ended up at the chapel in Vegas, and how we thought we'd be able to get our marriage annulled the next day. I tell them how we have to share a legal residence for six weeks before we can file divorce papers. And I tell them that despite the fact that we care very deeply for each other, our marriage may not last much longer. I purposely leave out the reasons behind why Dia is set against trying, because that's her story to tell, not mine. She may never feel comfortable enough to tell my parents about her upbringing, and that's okay. I certainly would never pressure her to.

I finish talking and look to my wife, because making sure she's alright is my first priority. When I see that her expression is a little more relaxed and confident than before, I squeeze her hand before looking to my parents. My dad has a small smile tipping up one corner of his lips. My mom has a shocked hand over her mouth and her eyes are full of unshed tears.

Shit.

"Mom, are you oka?—"

"Welcome to the family, sweet girl," she says, standing and walking over to Dia before wrapping her in a tight hug. I let go of her hand, smirking as she stands stone solid for a second, clearly not knowing how to behave at first. I wait with bated breath, until she finally reaches up, returning the embrace.

"Thank you," Dia whispers. I'm sure she's surprised by the reaction, but I can also see some emotion in her eyes.

My dad stands, shaking my hand and pulling me in for a hug before turning to the women. "Alright, Carrie," he says to my mom. "Let the poor girl breathe."

She pulls back, sniffling as she slaps his chest. "You leave me alone, Sam. I always wanted a daughter. Don't you dare ruin this for me." I don't miss the excited little twinkle in Dia's eyes as my dad leans in for a quick hug before letting my mom swoop back in.

That went exactly how I thought it would go on my parents' end. They've always been supportive and understanding of all the crazy decisions Benton and I have made. But what I am surprised by is how my wife reacted to the whole encounter. I expected her to run, or at the very least, clam up until they left and retreat to the guest room for the day to process things alone. She's definitely a little shell-shocked, but otherwise, she looks happy.

"Are you guys hungry?" Dia asks. "I made pancakes. There's plenty for everyone."

My mom and dad happily accept, glad that I'm no longer kicking them out. I text Blaze to cancel our workout, briefly explaining why and promising more details later. When I enter the kitchen to find the three most important people in my life co-existing like they're completely comfortable, I hope this locks in another missing puzzle piece for Dia. I want her to know she can have the love she's always longed for. That she's always deserved. Her parents are missing out on being a part of her life, but mine won't take it for granted. They'll treat her as one of their own, no matter where our marriage ends up. And that's something I'll be eternally grateful to them for.

We eat our breakfast, making dinner plans for later this evening. I'm surprised when Dia agrees to a shopping trip with my mom tomorrow morning so they can get something to wear to Benton's game. I asked her to go with me to support my brother, reassuring her that we'd be with a group so nobody would suspect anything, but her answer was non-committal. I guess she's cool with it now.

Two hours later, my parents take off to the hotel, my mom having already exchanged numbers with Dia so they can text about tomorrow. When I shut the door and turn to her, the last thing I expect is for her to run my way, launching herself into my arms with a sigh. I hold her as she hugs me tightly, relief radiating from her small body as she buries her face into my neck. When she looks up, all I see is a happiness I've only hoped for in her eyes.

"They're amazing," she says. "Thank you."

I shake my head. "Don't thank me, baby. That was all you. You're impossible not to love."

I hope she understands what I mean. That I'm not only talking about my parents. Because I love her with my whole entire heart. And even if it scares her, it's only a matter of time before I can't hold those three words back anymore.