Breathe With Me (Playing For Keeps #5)

by Becka Mack

The only thing I love more than watching you get dressed is you. Bet you didn’t even drink your coffee like I told you to, huh? You know bad girls get punished. In fact, you get punished so often, we have to keep toys in the kitchen so we’re always prepared when trouble arises.

One day, I was moody and being a brat, as one does, and Emmett asked if I needed the attitude fucked out of me. I asked if he knew anyone who could do the job, and two minutes later he had me on the kitchen counter, my wrists tied to the cabinet handles behind my head, knees bent and feet propped up so I couldn’t move, spread wide right there in our kitchen, and he edged me for nearly two hours before I was allowed to come. I sobbed like a baby. It was life-altering.

You’re the only star in my sky, but I plan on filling your sky with stars today.

One day, you’ll be snuggled up in this window, staring up at the stars above. Mama will hold you, singing to you about the way they shine like diamonds in the sky. And I’ll stand back and watch you together, knowing with absolute certainty … If you and your mama were the only stars in my sky, that would be all I needed. Love, Dada

I knew this house was ours the first time I saw you standing at this window. You looked out the window like you were looking at your future. Like you were meant to be here, in this exact spot. It was the same way I looked at you the first time I saw you. The same way I always look at you.

I’ve thought about this moment for an entire year, and at the end of the day, what I really want to say is … thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on me. For opening your heart and letting me see it, learn it, and hold it. Taking care of it has been my greatest blessing. Thank you for being willing to go to war for me. For supporting me, seeing me, laughing with me, and crying with me. Because of you, I know what it feels like to be certain someone is always in your corner. Thank you for taking my heart, for holding it gently, and keeping it safe. It’s felt at home every step of the way since I found you.

I am who I am because of you, Cara. Because you love me in ways I didn’t know existed. Because everything made sense the first time we kissed. Because I found a home in your eyes, your arms, and your heart. Because with your hand in mine, I can breathe. How fucking lucky am

“I’m twenty-eight years old today, Cara, and I swear to God, my life didn’t begin until a year ago, when I met you. All I want to do is keep living it with you. Wake up slow, bask in how lucky, how grateful I am, that yours is the first face I get to see. Make eyes at each other in the bathroom mirror while we brush our teeth. Have coffee side by side at the kitchen counter, our elbows brushing. Laugh with you. Learn with you. Grow with you. Walk out into this world with your hand in mine so I can love you out loud. Crawl into bed with you each night so I can love you quiet.”

“All I want to do is spend this life loving you. Marry me, Cara. Please.”

The shitshow is Garrett, on Emmett’s back, shrieking bloody murder, his face buried in my husband’s hair. Carter, rolling around on the kitchen floor, attempting to shield his face while Ireland and Connor beat him with the oven mitts they wear, so big they’re all the way up to their shoulders. Jaxon, arms out in front of him, running through the living room in a hideous crocheted vest with his name and number on the back. What is he running from? A sparrow, in my fucking living room.

“I think I wanna sneak into the changeroom tonight, drop to my knees, and deepthroat your cock before I ride it into oblivion while screaming your name.”

“We can’t,” I moan, rocking into him. “Your pussy says differently, firefly.” He drags a hot, wet kiss up my throat, then buries his words against my lips. “Your pussy says you need my cock. Crave it. Beg to be filled with my cum.”

“I want my cum dripping out of this sweet little cunt while I’m on the ice tonight. Wanna look up at you and know you’re wet. Watch your thighs rub together and know you’re whining about how empty you feel without me.”

We open the closet, and Lily stares up at us from the other side. “What were you guys doing in the closet?”

“I could come with you,” she whispers. “In case you need help with Connor and Ireland.” “Oh, thank God. I was hoping you’d come. Can I tell you a secret?” I beckon her closer, whispering, “I feel so much stronger when you’re around.” Deep brown eyes light, pink dancing in her full cheeks. “Mommy says I’m super helpful, and being helpful can make other people feel stronger.”

Emmett tells me you’re also, ah, what was it again?” He scratches his head. “The sexiest thing he’s ever seen. So sexy he sometimes watches you sleep because he’s afraid to close his eyes in case you disappear?”

I would have done anything to fix my wife’s broken heart, and it feels like a crime that this world never saw a mini version of her. But I have my family. And you? Those boys back there, you ladies that keep me young, those kids … well, I wouldn’t trade you in for anything. You’re the family Ireland and I dreamed of, and I believe she gave me all of you when she passed.”

He spots me, and just like the night we met, his answering smile detonates across his face. Starts in one corner, pulling up before stretching across, splitting his cheeks, a vision of pure happiness. This smile could change the world, I’m sure of it.

“This pussy is fucking magnificent. Gonna spend the rest of my goddamn life devouring it, knowing there’s never been a luckier man.”

“I want your cock,” I murmur, flicking my tongue over the shell of his ear. “I want you to force me to my knees. Want your hands in my hair, gripping it tight while you fuck my throat. I want you to tie my hands to the bed and spread my legs so you can take what you want.” “You wanna be my little slut?” he rumbles, pulling my head back. “Is that what you want?” “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to be your good little slut.”

“Oh my. Twins? You brave soul. Who’s the lucky man and why haven’t I met him?” My heart clenches as I shove my things inside my purse. “You remember Carter, Mémère?” “Carter, Carter … Oh! Fiercely handsome but a tad bit slutty.” Olivia snorts. “Spot on.” “Yes, I could never forget him. He’s the father? Oh boy. You know, something tells me he’ll be a wonderful father.”

I don’t remind her that when Carter proposed to my best friend at my wedding, Mémère downed her wine and toasted to the end of an era, and then clarified that she was talking about his slutty era. I don’t remind her that she was at their wedding later that year, or that she held Ireland when she was two months old, remarking that Carter’s dimples were endlessly more charming in his daughter’s cheeks than his own.

“Thanks for being my wife’s surrogate husband.” He cocks his head. “And stepdad to our em-babies?” Olivia grins, hitting us with two finger guns. “Hey, I’m not the stepdad. I’m the dad who stepped up.” She stops herself, which is definitely for the best, grimacing as she looks at her ridiculous hands. “Oh my God,” she mutters. “I’m turning into Carter.

“We’re watching Tangled, because Lily said Rapunzel is super strong and super beautiful, like Auntie Cara.”

“Pineapple, because the bromelain is anti-inflammatory and increases blood flow, which is thought to help with embryo implantation.” Lennon holds up a carton of McDonald’s fries. “Supersize fries, because salty foods can help with ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome after fertility treatments.” She holds up a large drink. “And a milkshake, just because.”

Tears prickle as I pick up a dainty bracelet and run my thumb over the two crystal beads in the center. “One for each of your embryos,” Olivia murmurs. “A symbol of hope. Of a future you’re fighting so hard for.”

“Oops. One more thing.” Olivia pulls a small packet of glitter from her pocket, dumping it in her palm before blowing the fine gold specks over my stomach. She smiles. “Baby dust.”

Lily twines her fingers with mine, chin on my stomach as she grins up at me. “We’re havin’ a mental health day, Auntie Cara. All of us, together.”

My entire body trembles, angry tears gathering in my eyes, blurring my vision. But the first one that falls, the one that lands on the test between us… it’s Emmett’s. Twelve months. Twelve months, and not a single positive test. Twelve months, and all I have to show for it is the bags under my eyes, the quiver in my hands that didn’t used to be there. Twelve months is all it took for me to break down my husband.

“HelickedandbitmynipplesfortwominutesandIcamesohard.”

I’d known her all of two months when she nervously approached me one day and said that Ramadan would be starting the following week and she wanted me to know she’d be fasting, so she’d appreciate it if she could sit out any lunchtime meetings, and that she’d need a day off afterward to celebrate Eid. I showed up to the office on the last day of Ramadan with a gift basket the size of her, filled with all kinds of chocolate-covered treats, a personalized bed and collar for Najme, a necklace with Shazia’s name in Arabic on it, and a donation to Islamic Relief Canada made in her name. But it was when I opened my mouth and absolutely butchered my way through an Arabic rendition of Eid Mubarak, Shazia. I am grateful for you that she lost her shit and fell into my arms, crying. I haven’t been able to shut her up since then.

I place my hand over my stomach when everyone opens their wraps, the overwhelming smell hitting my nose and making me queasy. Shifting my bag away, I pull up Google, typing into the search bar as everyone eats and chats. 10 days post embryo transfer, smell of food makes me nauseous

“I thought of a name.” “A name?” He wrings his hands, and that pink dotting his cheeks? It runs rampant, the tips of his ears dipped in ruby red. “For our rainbow, if they’re a girl.” My heart patters. “A girl?” “I was thinking … Lana. For your⁠—” “Mémère,” I whisper, and he takes my hands in his, sweeping his thumbs across my knuckles. “She’s special to you, and to me too. She’s strong, brave, and funny, just like you.”

“I hope you’re in there, baby. Your mama’s got the most perfect home for you to cook in for nine months.”

“As you know, we consider hCG levels of twenty-five and over to be positive for pregnancy, five and under to be negative, and anything in between is a bit of a waiting game.”

“Your hCG levels came back at three. You’re not pregnant, Cara.”

“But I…I have symptoms. My back hurts and my nipples are sensitive. I’m tired, and my⁠—” “A lot of PMS symptoms mimic pregnancy symptoms, sweetheart.”

I’ve spent what feels like a lifetime watching my wife. Since the moment I first saw her, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her. She walked in that room, our gazes collided, and my life began.

“I love our tradition.” Another smile, as cold as her hand when she touches mine. “Okay, Emmett. We’ll do it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” “I don’t want you to apologize.” She cocks her head. “What would you like me to do?” Smile. A real one. One that lights up your eyes, shows me you’re still alive. That I haven’t lost you.

“Give it here.” Carter reaches across the table, curling his fingers into his palm. “I’ve got nimble fingers.” Garrett snorts, knocking his hand away. “Give it. I tie knots all the time.” Carter glares at him. “When?” Garrett pumps his brows. “When I pull the ribbon out of your sister’s hair and use it to tie her wrists to the⁠—” Carter claps his hands over his ears. “La-la-la-la-la, I’m not listening, I’m not listening!” I hand over the bracelet, watching as Garrett focuses on tying the ends together. When Carter cautiously drops his hands from his ears, Garrett murmurs, “Bedposts.” He tosses the finished bracelet at me, shrieking as Carter tells all the kids at our table to “Get him!” The poor guy gets tackled to the ground, smothered with pillows and stuffed animals, shrieking for Adam to help.

I want it, the big family. Little humans built from a love so pure and deep. To love them right. Show them how to be a friend, a partner. How to communicate, how to believe in themselves and chase their dreams, all the while knowing how unconditionally loved and supported they are by their parents. A chance to get it right, to be the parents mine never quite were. I want to be a dad. Want it so fucking bad it tears me up. But I don’t need it. At the end of the day, this life we’ve built together is all I need.

“Maybe I don’t want a baby anymore. Not if it means losing you along the way. Because, fuck, Cara, that’s what this feels like. Watching this wreak havoc on you, watching it fucking … kill you. Jesus, it feels like I’m watching every part of you slowly die, and I have to stand by and do nothing, because I don’t know how to fucking fix this.” I clutch my chest, my heart. If it would fix things, I’d tear it out myself. Offer it to Cara on a silver platter. “I don’t know how to do this anymore,” I admit on a desperate, broken plea. “I don’t, Cara. It’s killing you, and it’s fucking destroying me.”

“It is unbelievable how much I love you,” she rumbles under her breath, and Carter smirks, plopping down on the couch, Ireland in his lap. “Haha, you looove me.” He stretches his arms over his head in a big, obnoxious way. “I’m impossible not to love. Don’t know why you tried to resist for so long.” She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, a whole month.” “Felt like a lifetime of agony.”

Emmett is going to spend the rest of his days loving you, and you’re going to spend yours loving him. Choose to do it together. Love makes life worth living, even in the face of everything we lose along the way.”

that’s what Emmett is. He’s my once-in-a-lifetime, a miracle I stumbled into. How do you walk away from that? I was so sure I was doing the right thing by leaving today, giving him a chance at a dream I might not be able to make a reality for us. Because without me, he can have it. But with me? It might never happen.

“So fuckin’ glad I stole your apartment key and had a copy made for myself while you were having your beauty nap,” he’d all but growled. “Is that how you remember it?” I’d murmured, spreading out on the pillows when he peeled the blankets back and climbed on top of me in all his naked, carved glory. “I remember telling you to get the key cut and get me a latte while you were at it. If memory serves, you returned with fifty red roses, too.”

“You said you weren’t ever spending another night without me when you were in Vancouver. That it’d only been sixteen days since we’d met, and you didn’t care how crazy you sounded; I was your home now.”

But it’s that tattoo low on his right hip, that single word in my handwriting, the i dotted with a heart. That’s what does me in. Squeezes my throat. Grips my heart. Mine. Emmett is and always has been mine, just as I’ve always been his.

“You’re my home, Cara. I meant it then, and I mean it now. The only time I sleep without you in my arms is when there’s a plane ride and at least a thousand miles between us.”

Heat overwhelms me, pooling in my cheeks as blood pounds in my ears. I step closer, up to the first photo: me in a red dress, laughing into a glass of red wine, another glass dangling from my fingertips, this one filled with Skittles and M&M’s. I swallow the lump in my throat as I catch the tag hanging below the picture, Emmett’s handwriting scrawled over it. The first day of my life. “The night we met.”