Headstrong Like Us (Like Us, #6)

by Krista Ritchie

His gaze veers. “Husband’s coming over.”

It’s time to say goodbye to our son, and it’s still never that easy. Not even when I know I’ll see the little man again tomorrow. But tonight, it’s just going to be Maximoff and me.

and Maximoff swipes the card out of my hand too easily. “Turns out, marriage hasn’t made you any taller.”

“Don’t say it.” Now I definitely am. I lift my brows. “I’m still an inch taller than you.” “Didn’t notice.”

“Before you open the door,” I tell my husband, “you’re going to have to get in my arms.” He blinks. “I made him come already,” I tease.

In every scenario I can think of, I’m always carrying you.” “Every scenario?” I tilt my head. “You must not be thinking hard enough, wolf scout.” I bend down and lift him under the legs.

He barely lets me hook my arms underneath his thighs before he slips out of the hold and tries to go for my legs. His effort leaves the keycard vulnerable in his grip, and I steal it back.

In one swift movement, I unlock the suite and kick the door open. I turn to lift him, and he tries to hoist me up at the thighs—we stumble and fall into the suite together.

“What…?” He intakes a staggered breath. His forest-greens melt over the roses sprinkled across the marbled floor and handfuls of lit candles flickering all around the suite. Around us.

“Surprise,” I say with a rising smile. His firsts are special to me, and this is a first we’re both sharing together. First night as a married couple.

He looks from me to the flowers and candles, like he’s still in a fucking dream. And I’m the dreamlike thing that has awoken an...

His first boyfriend, first love, first and only husband.

This isn’t even the first time I’ve surprised him with roses. Our first Valentine’s Day was during the FanCon tour, and I had flowers sent to our room at a hotel pit stop.

And fuck, I’m already on the floor.

“Look at the bed, Farrow,” Maximoff breathes.

A card rests on the taupe-hued comforter, along with a bronze tray of chocolate-covered strawberries. He had this sent to the suite. My eyes burn.

If you’re reading this, it means we’re now married, and the sky didn’t fall in. We didn’t die before we could slip rings on each other. No doomsday or curse or hateful entity stopped us or separated us. It means you’re now Farrow Redford Keene Hale, and I can wake up knowing you’re mine forever. Thank you for giving the guy who has the world all the parts that he’s never seen or felt before. I love you. P.S. if this is too damn sappy, trash it. - Maximoff

I’m never throwing this fucking card away. My love for Maximoff constantly overwhelms me. I inhale and I glance back at him.

“Why are you so far away?”

His eyes narrow on me. “I’m hiring the best damn lawyers in the country. I’m not letting Ripley live with someone who’s using him.”

I nod and look him over, in love with Maximoff all fucking over again. We understand that we might lose the fight for this baby. He might not be ours in the end, and it’ll be devastating. But Maximoff has to try, with everything in his soul. And I’m not giving up hope. “We’re,” I correct him. “I’m right by your side.”

His gaze screams, love me, fuck me, never leave me.

Maximoff looks infatuated and as head-over-fucking-heels in love with me as I am with him.

My lips rise, and I unclasp the holster. He lets me take the knife off him, and as I buckle his holster around my calf, he looks like he might self-combust and marry me a second time. I grin. “You want to make love to me or the knife?” “You,” he says unwaveringly, powerfully.

“Fuck.” He reaches back and roots a hand on my flexing ass. “Stay inside me,” he grunts. “…while you come.”

I trust Farrow with every part of my body and fucking soul. He’s my husband.

He presses his lips to my jaw, to my shoulder, to the ink on my bicep—the heart around our initials. He rakes his teeth over my skin and bites, and my eyes roll. Lost in love and so much damn feeling. His lips brush against my ear, and deeply, Farrow whispers, “I love you.”

I climb back into bed. Leftover cake fills a container on my lap. Farrow holds a to-go carton of eggs and bacon. We were so busy tonight we barely ate at the reception. But I think I like this better.

I take it all in. Roses, candles, epic physical and emotional sex, eating leftover wedding cake in bed afterwards, showering together—watching a movie. Ordinary. Romantic. And timeless. It’s always been the little things.

Been afraid to lose what I love most. Shit, I’m still afraid of that, but that fear is how I know I’m completely, unfailingly in love with Maximoff and the life we’re building together.

Because losing him or our son would be a change that I couldn’t stomach or bear.

But after all the international traveling, we decided on a familiar, tranquil place off the beaten path. The lake house in the Smoky Mountains. No paparazzi, media, fans or hecklers can bug the shit out of us here.

He barks and hops in zigzagging lines. Cute puppy. Needs more training. Will work on it.

I’ve never seen a dog who’s more afraid of water and birds than this brown teddy bear. I grin, continuing my trek.

And a six-foot-two force of nature emerges from the lake house. Dark-brown hair thick and disheveled, sharp jaw clean-shaven, and eyes as tough and green as the surrounding trees, Maximoff has an unbending stride. And he’s smiling.

We come closer, and I give my husband a blatant once-over. Maximoff pretends not to notice or care, but his smile grows.

“Nice ass.” “I know.” His voice is pure confidence.

“You need help?” Still precious. I’m not even breaking a sweat. Something burrows in my heart, and fuck, I live for these moments with him. I laugh into a wider smile.

Maximoff promptly gives me a middle finger. “I retract my offer, by the way.” I raise my brows. “But my offer for you stands if you need help with the big ones.” Two middle fingers.

“Da-da, da-da!” Ripley calls out, watching us unpack. We made him a comfortable spot on the porch in a rainforest-themed activity chair. And he can finally hold and drink out of a sippy cup without assistance. He shows off his yellow cup like he’s a big boy.

“Is that your cup, little man?” Ripley laughs and kicks his soft legs. He hoists the cup, mimicking how we’ve been carrying shit into the house. My eyes burn. Yeah, that gets to me. It’s one of the most adorable fucking things in the world, and I don’t just wonder about the future.

I do the torturous, yearning thing and picture Ripley trying to imitate us, looking up to h...

We’ll take him to swim meets or possibly baseball practice. Karate, football, or soccer. Hell, mayb...

His best friend will most likely be this “scaredy bear” dog, who Ripley makes grabby-hands at, and when he cries about the monsters under his bed, we’ll ease his fears and stay ...

“Look how far you and I have come,” I smile and brush a caring finger across his soft cheek. He smiles back, two new teeth peeking from his gums.

“Just between us, I’m okay with you taking his side for the rest of our lives. I would too if I were you. He’s just that good.”

Growing a family with the guy I love, there’s only happiness in that.

“You didn’t have to wait to carry shit just so I can see you,” I tease.

“For a second there, I forgot why I married you.” “You remember?” I chew my gum into a spreading smile. “Yeah.” He adjusts the soda cases for a better grip. “My brain rebelled against me and decided it sort of likes your irritating jokes.”

“Where do you want to put that gold star for understating your love for me?” “In the trash....