I must have fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Juniper. She wakes me up with a soft kiss, pulling the heating pad off my shoulder. I feel a rush of cold air and I groan, trying to figure out where I am and what happened. "Sshh," she whispers. "It's just me."
Other parts of my body wake up faster than my head, especially when she starts rubbing my arm and straddles my knee while she digs out the remote to turn off the TV. "Shit, Junebug. What time is it?"
"It's late," she says. "I'm really sorry, Ty. I wanted to get all that work sorted so I can focus on this last week of the campaign. We can spend time together tomorrow."
I shake my head and pull her onto my lap. "Nope," I say, running my fingers through her short, dark hair. It's sleek and smooth and I love how it flows against my skin. "The Fury leave for Denver tomorrow morning."
"Fuck," she says. She sits up and looks me in the eye. "Seriously? How could I lose track of your schedule like that?" She climbs off my lap and kicks the couch.
"It's ok, baby. Come back and sit on my lap again…"
"No," she shouts. "It's not ok! I signed you up to make an appearance with me tomorrow night. Fuck, I'll have to redo the whole plan for the event if you won't be there. Plus everyone will be watching hockey."
"I thought you just said we can hang out?"
"Yeah," she says. "At a fundraiser at someone's house. They're writing post cards and donating to the campaign. We were going to make an appearance…" She drifts off, noticing the table is clear. "Where the hell is all the laundry?"
I lean back with my hands crossed behind my head like some smug fucker. "I took it to the all-night cleaner, JJ. Your panties and my boxers are swirling around together as we speak." Realizing I took care of everything, Juniper groans. This is not the effect I was going for when I cleaned up our place. I can see in her face that she's overwhelmed. She sinks into a chair. "Hey, babe," I pat my lap. "I've got a comfortable seat for you right here."
She doesn't move, but starts mumbling about how she didn't think it would be this way. She says something about Thanksgiving, and I can tell she's spiraling, so I walk over to her and start massaging her temples. "Juniper Jones," I whisper into her ear. "I don't want you to worry about anything. Tell me what you need me to do."
She turns then and buries her face in my shirt, crying a little bit. "What's going to happen if I get elected," she asks. "You're gone half the time and then I'll be gone half the time and I don't even know where you put the laundry. Who is going to buy the bread for Thanksgiving?"
"Won't Alice bake the bread," I ask, trying to soothe her. But this just makes Juniper cry.
"I told her I'd get it," she sobs. "I wanted to feel like I could do this family dinner thing and still contribute and run a campaign and get the damn tattoo, but I didn't even remember to get cash for the housekeeper."
I bend down and lift her out of her seat. Juniper is a tall woman. She's 5-10, and an athlete, but I'm a professional hockey player. I bench press more than she weighs. I know she loves that I can haul her around like she's weightless. Ok, maybe not weightless, but damn if I'll ever let her hear me struggle to lift her. "What tattoo, babe," I ask, carrying her to our room. I like that she’s tall enough to look me in the eye when we’re dancing.
I place her on the edge of our bed and get to work removing her office wear. She winces again, and I furrow my brow. She looks up at me with those big, brown eyes of hers and I kneel on the ground in front of her as she peels off her blouse. She twists to the side a bit and then I see it. My wife got the same tattoo as me and my brothers.
"Woah," I say. She smiles shyly. "Babe, that's fucking amazing."
"Do you like it? I wanted to feel close to you, especially since I never changed my name."
I kiss her skin all around the tattoo, careful not to touch it directly. "I fucking love it," I tell her. "Now I need one for you." She laughs. "I'm serious. What should I get? I’ll put your face on my other pec.” I tip her back on the bed and she falls asleep plotting out potential designs I could get inked on my chest. I pull out my phone to search for some images, and I remember that I never called Thatcher back. Shit, I think, looking at the screen. I missed about five calls from each of my brothers.
It's past midnight, so I don't bother calling Tim. I wouldn't want to wake up Petey. But Tim picks up when I call Thatcher’s phone. That’s weird, I think. "Hey," Tim says. "We have a situation." I look over at Juniper and, not wanting to wake her, either, I step back into the living room.
"What happened? Why are you answering Thatcher's phone?"
"Emma's pregnant," he says, his voice unreadable, like he's already in lawyer mode.
"Woah! That's amazing! Another nephew for Team Stag. Obviously it’ll be a boy. Fucking awesome," I start celebrating. This isn't like when Tim knocked up Alice after they were only together a few weeks. Emma's been with Thatcher for ages. "Will she have the baby at that midwife center where we were born? Where Alice had Petey?"
"Tyrion, Emma has epilepsy, remember?" And with that, Tim's words bring back the memory of how Emma had a big seizure at a family dinner once. She ended up in the hospital then, although she said that was mainly just a precaution.
"What does that mean? Is everything ok?" Tim explains that they're keeping her for observations, that she hasn't woken up yet from having another big seizure.
"They're going to do an ultrasound and check out the baby, try to figure out how far along she is. Her neurologist has to consult with some of the high-risk obstetricians to figure out a plan…basically they can't do anything until business hours tomorrow."
"Business hours? What is that--a bank? Fuck that shit! Tell them to get in the lab right now.” I look over at Juniper, still sleeping in our bed. "Do you need me to come in there and be famous?"
Tim sighs. "Not tonight, brother. There isn't much they can do until Emma wakes up, anyway. But maybe you can come spell me sitting with Thatcher? Alice and I have to get home and get Petey…when do you leave for Denver?"
"Fuck." My flight leaves in a few hours. Now I'm kicking the couch. My family needs me, my wife needs me. Everything is falling apart.