"Hell of a day," she says.
"Hell of a day," I echo, giving April a look as we slip into the elevator.
As the doors close, I turn to face her and take a deep breath. I didn't see her enough today, and she looks beautiful. She always does, but there's something extra special about seeing her in a pantsuit. I'm not sure what.
"Your mom really does have nine lives," she says softly, accounting for our sleeping daughter in the stroller.
I chuckle and say, "More like forty-nine."
We look at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, then close the distance between us. I press my mouth to hers and give her a long kiss, and feel her hands come to rest around my waist.
When we pull away, I don't feel finished with her. Luckily, even though Harriet is knocked out, the night is still young.
Because April is pushing the stroller through the dimly-lit parking lot, I wind an arm around her waist instead of taking her hand. We found out the hard way that that thing doesn't exactly steer great one-handed.
When we get to the car, she parks the stroller and says, "Will you?"
I nod and kneel down to unbuckle Harriet, who's got her head lolled to one side. Being that she's four-and-a-half now, it's my job to lift her out of the stroller when she's sleep-heavy.
"Come on, Peep," I say, holding her close as April opens the back door. Harriet stays completely still as I clip her into the seat and make sure the seatbelt is tight - a habit neither April or I have ever lost. I doubt we ever will.
I get in the car as April tosses the folded stroller in the back, then smile at her when she relaxes in the passenger's seat.
"Ready," she says, grinning too. Before I shift the car out of park, she reaches over and rubs my thigh, saying, "Missed you today."
"I know," I say, holding her chin so I can kiss her. "I'm glad it's over."
"Same here," she says, keeping her hand where it is as I back out of the parking spot.
...
We have a room at the Four Seasons, since we don't have a house in Seattle anymore, and it's the next best thing to home when we walk through the door. It's luxurious yet comfortable - a little on the fancy side for April, but she gave in after only a bit of convincing.
Lately, we've been getting along better than ever. Communicating has never been easier in neutral territory, in Boston, someplace that's new, in a way, for both of us. All of us, really.
Harriet loves her school and she loves her ballet classes. I love sitting in the audience watching her dance, too, with her mother by my side. I had no idea that a toddler bopping around onstage to "The Good Ship Lollipop" could make me so proud, but it did.
Most of all, Harriet loves the fact that we're all living together. Every night, she's giddy over the fact that she gets both April and me at bedtime. At first, it made me sad thinking of how, for the first three years of her life, she never got both of us at once.
Therapy helped that sadness turn into gratitude, though. Therapy helped with a lot of things - both my individual sessions and couple's sessions with April.
We're doing well. For the first time in a very long time, there is no strife between us.
"I'm gonna get her changed and lay her down," April whispers, holding Harriet against her chest.
"You need help?" I ask. "Pretty soon, she's gonna be taller than you."
She snorts. "I got it. Maybe order room service, though? I'm starving."
"Will do," I say. "How does peanut butter toast with extra peanuts sound?"
"Be glad I'm holding your sleeping child," she says, rolling her eyes.
I start to laugh and dodge her as she tries to kick me in the shin. "I'll order Italian," I say.
She narrows her eyes playfully and heads into the little closed-off alcove where Harriet's bed is - still attached to our room, just sequestered in her own space. While she's doing that, I change into lounge clothes and get on the phone to order a couple of pasta dishes.
After I hang up, I head back into the bedroom area to find April stretched out on the bed, wearing a lacy cloth bra and a pair of pink pajama pants. As I slip my phone back into my bag, I say, "You trying to continue our track record in hotels?"
She doesn't respond. I look over again and see that, with her arms strewn above her head and her nighttime glasses on, she's sound asleep - that fast.
I smile to myself and crawl over from my side of the bed. Hovering over her, I stroke a bit of fiery hair out of her face and trace the pout of her bottom lip, then let my hand wander to rest on the dip of her waist.
"Hey, sleepyhead..." I say, tucking my face into her sweet, warm neck. I give her a kiss there, right on her pulse point, and say, "Mrs. Avery."
I feel her throat vibrate as she makes a small sound. When she speaks, she says, "Not yet."
"The food will be here soon," I say.
She stretches, arching her back and lifting her chest at the same time. I sit back and look at her, the curve of her spine, the angle of her ribs, and her nipples poking through the fabric of her bra... and I want to eat her alive. Forget the Italian food.
"No, not that," she says, letting her back relax again. She opens her eyes and looks at me with a sleepy smile. "I mean I'm not Mrs. Avery yet. And... even when I am..." She reaches over and touches my nose with the tip of her finger. "That's Mrs. Kepner-Avery to you."
"How dare I forget," I say, resting a hand on her belly. I rub her stomach and feel her breathe as I do, then let my hand travel a little higher to slip inside the soft material of her bra.
"Jackson..." April says, glancing towards where Harriet's alcove is.
"She's asleep," I say. "That dead-to-the-world, sugar-crash kinda sleep, too."
It takes a moment for her to tear her eyes away from that section of the room, but she eventually does - then she tosses her arms around my neck. "Okay," she whispers, biting her lower lip. "But we have to be quiet."
I squeeze the handful of her breast I'm holding and say, "Who you tellin'."
She snorts with laughter and kisses me, and I rub her nipple with my thumb, working it until it hardens into a tempting little peak. I kiss my way down her jaw, then her neck, then slip her bra off over her head so I can get my mouth on her breasts.
"When I said I missed you today, I wasn't kidding," I say, holding one of her hips as I press kisses around the swells of her small breasts and straining nipples. "I was thinking about what we used to do in on-call rooms."
"So horny," she says, and I can hear the eye-roll in her tone.
"Then, or now?" I ask, then slide my hand into the front of her pants, inside her underwear too. I feel right away that she's wet, and she spreads her thighs for me when I drag my fingers over her lips. I smirk and say, "Seems like both."
"I did say I missed you, too," she says, then whimpers and sighs when I sink my fingers deep inside her.
"Shhh..." I say, pressing my mouth against hers to swallow the sounds she's making.
I keep kissing her as I pump my fingers in and out, feeling her clench around me each time I do. The sounds her body is making are wet and salacious, and I can't get enough. I'm so turned on by them - and the fact that her chest is flushed and she's panting like crazy - that I tug her pants down and get situated between her muscular little thighs.
She covers her own mouth, breathing hard as I maintain eye contact and kiss her all over. I run my tongue through the slick, shiny curls between her legs and nip the soft insides of her legs, which makes her twitch and jerk. I watch her inner muscles tighten - she wants my fingers back, and her body is telling me so.
I can do her one better, though. After I spend some time kissing her outer lips and sucking on her inner ones - and teasing her clit - I shove my pants down and thrust inside her in one practiced, fluid motion.
"Oh," she moans, throwing both arms up so they rest over her eyes. She takes a deep breath, which only lifts her chest closer to me, and I use that position to suck on her nipples again - all the while keeping my hips moving at a steady rate. "Yes..." she sighs, pressing her lips together in a satisfied little expression. "Jackson, yes, that feels so, so good..."
She knows just how to boost my confidence. In all honesty, with her, it doesn't take much. Every little thing she does in the bedroom gets me going because she's so damn sexy.
More than half of me wants to really get into it with her, tell her to tell me how good it feels and what I should do more of. But I'm ultra-conscious of the fact that Harriet - though she may be sleeping - is in the next room. And, no matter how amazing this feels, we should wrap it up.
As April looks deep into my eyes, she holds me tight with her inner muscles - and she knows exactly what that'll do to me. I know she does, because the smile is growing on her face as my eyes roll to the back of my head.
"Fuck," I breathe, gripping her ass tight in one hand. I want to smack it - and I want to smack it bad - but I won't. I can't, so I won't.
I grit my teeth together and pound her harder, which makes her open her mouth and let out a desperate, soft whimper. Her thighs fall apart as her back scoots up the bed, and we both smile through the kiss when I press my mouth to hers.
"You gonna come for me," I murmur against her lips.
"Uh-huh," she sighs, wrapping her arms around my neck and keeping me close. "Uh-huh..." Her voice gets a little higher when she says it a third time. "Uh-huh... yes... yes... oh, god, Jackson..."
Watching her face is more than enough to send me over the edge, and I let everything go inside her. There is nothing, not a single feeling in the world, like coming inside April. I told her that once and she thought I was talking nonsense because of orgasm-brain, but I wasn't. It's true. It's the fact that she allows it, that she wants me to, that part of me is literally inside her. It's fucking amazing. It's euphoric.
One of these days, she's probably going to end up pregnant. But that's something we've talked about in therapy, and it wouldn't be the worst thing.
She's panting, and my head rises and falls with the movement of her chest after I collapse on top of her. "Shit," she whispers, still catching her breath while dragging her fingernails up and down my back.
I like this part just as much as what came before it, lying here with our sweaty bodies tangled up together. It gets cut short, though, just as my eyelids get heavy because of the way she's running her fingers through my hair.
There's a knock at the door. Then, I remember ordering room service.
"Oh," I say, propping myself up on an elbow. "Food's here."
I hear them set it down outside the door, and I get up and put pants on so the food doesn't get cold. When I come back, April has pants on too but, much like me, she forwent a shirt.
I set the platter in the middle of the messed-up bed and lift the lid off, and her eyes get big. "Ooh, that looks so good," she says, rubbing her hands together and grinning. Then, she looks at me and says, "Thank you. I love you."
I lean over the food and give her a short, meaningful kiss on the lips. "I love you, too," I say.
Then, we sit in bed half-naked, talk about the long day we had at the hospital, and eat Italian food.