Jack hated not being near me while I was pregnant and had insisted I come with him on every road trip. He made sure I was catered to constantly, with whatever I was craving at the moment waiting for me when I checked into our hotel room, along with extra pillows, crackers, and a mini fridge chock-full of ginger ale.
Truth be told, I loved the way Jack doted over me and protected me. I felt safe with him; I always had. My thoughts drifted back to the night of the mugging when we were still in college. I remembered how scared I was, my body filled with shock, confusion, and sadness at everything that had transpired that evening. The emotion that impressed itself on me the most was the feeling that took over my entire being the moment I saw Jack. When he pulled me into his arms, I knew everything was going to be okay because he was there. I had relaxed instantly, allowing Jack to do what Jack does best: protect what’s his.
I loved traveling with him, but I was exhausted. And begging off that last road trip was worth it. So worth it. Because … I found this house.
Oh God, this house.
Swoon.
I felt lucky enough being able to move back home knowing that all our family would be here when the baby was born, but the house we just bought was another blessing altogether. The one thing we had missed the most while we lived in New York was the SoCal beaches. There were plenty of beaches in New York, but it wasn’t the same.
Hanging out with friends, surfing, and bonfires were part of growing up in Southern California. Not to mention the fact that the Pacific Ocean was one of my earliest photography obsessions. Looking for a place close to the baseball stadium, our families, and with a good school district for the baby, the Newport Beach area seemed like the best answer. Not to mention the fact I’d have daily photographic inspiration to keep my soul satisfied.
The price tag deterred me initially. I made great money in my job at the magazine, and Jack’s baseball contract was more than most people would ever make in a lifetime, but I still liked to be smart when it came to our finances. And dropping millions of dollars on a house scared the ever-living shit out of me. Plus, Jack could get traded again at any time and then what? We’d have a crazy-expensive house that we never lived in?
But then Jack reminded me that we’d always want our home base to be in Southern California. Even if he did get traded again, we should still have a house where we wanted to end up in the long run. And he was right. So after weeks of home shopping without Jack, I found the perfect one in a gated community, which I knew Jack would love.
The house was two stories with four bedrooms, an office, and a gorgeous backyard with a swimming pool and a lush lawn. The master bedroom had a wraparound balcony and the moment I saw it, I instantly longed for a telescope. I’d asked my dad for one as a kid, but like many others, that promise never materialized. The tipping point was the house had a view to die for—you could see the ocean from every room in the house. When I walked through the front door for the first time and saw the ocean view from the windows, I was stunned. And sold.
Jack’s eyes lit up when I brought him to the property. Luckily, the previous owners had modernized the home, so there was nothing I wanted to change, not a single thing. And the best part was that the owners desperately wanted to get rid of it, so we got it for a “steal.”
On moving day, I watched as Jack wiped his brow, sweat dripping from him in beads. He and Dean stacked boxes from the moving truck we’d rented into various rooms in the new house while I worked on unpacking and setting things up. I wanted our house to look like home as soon as possible, so while they unloaded, I unpacked.
I was amazed at everything we accomplished this way. The truck that just hours prior had been filled to the gills, was now almost empty. And the walls of our home that were bare a few hours before, were now filled with artwork and framed photographs. It was as if we’d lived here for years.
“Kitten, you don’t have to do that. I can hire someone,” Jack shouted from the garage.
“Stop being crazy. I’m perfectly capable of hanging artwork and unpacking our stuff.”
Jack sauntered into the house and grabbed me by the backside, then spun me around. “I worry about you,” he said before leaning over to plant a kiss on my barely-there tummy. “Don’t we?” he told my belly in a high-pitched silly voice. “We worry about Mommy. She needs to just sit down and look pretty while we do all the work.”
I burst out laughing and ruffled his hair. “You’re an idiot.”
He looked up with a grin. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.” Jack kissed my stomach again before walking into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, reached in, and tossed Dean a beer. “Heads up,” he shouted as Dean jumped and moved to catch it.
“Dick.” Dean popped open the can and took a long gulp. And then almost spit it right back out at the sound of my best friend’s voice.
“Ah, I can’t believe you guys are back here! I’m so happy.” Melissa bounced into the house and straight into my arms. She glanced at Dean and Jack, giving them a curt smile before pressing her ear against my stomach. “How’s my little baby?” she cooed, then rubbed my belly like it was a f**king good luck charm.
Why does everyone do this?
Jack and Dean scuttled out the sliding glass door to the backyard. The cowards.
When they’d left, I folded my arms over my chest and said flatly, “Still not talking to Dean, I see?”
She tilted her head to one side. “He’s not talking to me, not the other way around.”