“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “In that case, I’m utterly distraught. Emotionally ravaged. Save me Elle.” I pouted.

  “Okay. I’m gonna need you to sit up. Preferable with your back against the headboard.” Elle explained before climbing out of bed.

  She waddled around the air mattress and paused in front of the TV.

  “Something wrong?” I asked as I scooted against the headboard as I was told.

  “…Uh, I’m gonna be totally honest with you, Logan. The labels are peeled off and I’ve forgotten how to turn one of these off.”

  “You can leave it on.”

  Elle turned toward me and crossed her arms, “If we’re going to have sex, I’d rather not have Japanese wrestling commentary screaming in the background.”

  “Hit the square button on the VCR. And on the TV next to the red light is the power button.”

  The faint hum of the VCR stopped, and the room went dark. I swallowed hard and pressed my palms into the mattress. For some stupid reason, I was nervous. Suddenly, at the mention of sex, I became a teenager again. The fact that Mom kept my room as untouched as some shrine to my childhood didn’t help matters. The bed dipped as Elle climbed in. She straddled my lap. My dick strained against the useless, flimsy fabric of my pajama pants. Elle grabbed my shoulders. The gentle heat from her touch burned my skin.

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her collarbone. Elle trembled. Her whole body relaxed. She became putty in my hands. I kissed and licked across her shoulder and up her neck. Her head fell back, and breathy moans escaped her lips. I realized Elle must have removed her shorts at some point before climbing back into bed as her wetness pressed against my crotch. I slipped a hand under her shirt and gently teased her swollen nipples. A sharp gasp caught in Elle’s throat as I nibbled on her ear.

  “I’m emotionally distraught, Elle. You said you’d fix it. I need you to fix it.”

  She moaned.

  “What was that sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  Elle groaned and bucked against me harder. I pulled my hand out from under her shirt and slipped it under my waistband. My dick was rock hard. A sigh escaped my mouth as my hand slid precum down my shaft. Dick in hand, I freed myself from the prison of my pajama pants. I grabbed Elle’s hips and helped guide her into me. I desperately wanted to impale her on my dick and fuck her brains out. But the confines of the twin bed and her changing body made that impossible. Instead, the alterative was much sweeter. Elle’s pussy gripped every inch of me. She consumed me and I lost myself in a consensual drowning.

  This partly clothed fuck in my childhood bedroom was the sexiest thing. Maybe it was the forbidden and dirty aspects of it. The woman I loved was fucking me in the room where I grew up with only God, my wrestling posters, and the moonlight as witnesses. Whatever the case was, I definitely had a hand up over my teenage self and my lonely and confusing teenage masturbation sessions.

  When I stumbled out of my bedroom the next morning, I made sure to straighten my pajamas first. Hot bedroom sex with my pregnant girlfriend was amazing, but it would be less amazing to have my parents know about it. I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and dragged my ass to the kitchen. As I suspected, Dad sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee. He was never one to sleep in. He usually rose with the sun, and I was the same. On the other hand, Mom and Elle enjoyed their beauty sleep.

  “Morning.” I mumbled as I grabbed a mug from the cabinet.

  “Morning.” Dad said before taking a sip of his coffee.

  I poured my coffee and sat at the table across from Dad. Bleary eyed he glanced at something on his phone. I didn’t notice it before I sat down, but my championship was still around his waist.

  “Sleep good?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah. The air mattress wasn’t too bad.”

  I glanced up at Dad wagging his eyebrow at me. I clenched a hand around my mug as my face flushed with heat.

  Shit!

  “…To be honest with you Dad, I thought we were being quiet.”

  Dad laughed and some of the unease in my stomach settled.

  “Logan, I wouldn’t have heard a thing if I didn’t go to the bathroom. That old wood frame can be quite loud and you two were going at it.”

  Dramatically, I dropped my head to the table. Dad howled with laughter.

  “Again, I know we never had a birds and the bees talk, but sex is natural. People fuck, it’s human nature.”

  I peeked up at Dad, who just grinned at me before picking up his mug.

  “You didn’t break that air mattress, did you? Your Mom had to order that because the store was out.”

  “No, the air mattress is fine. We kept it in the bed.”

  Dad blinked. “I’m impressed, but we conceived you in a dorm room bed, so I shouldn’t be.”

  I slumped my head back onto the table and groaned. “I don’t want to hear about the details of my conception!”

  “Okay, okay. Just let me say one more thing and I’ll be done.”

  I lifted my head to rest my chin on the table and looked at him.

  “Amazing things come from the unexpected.”

  My brow furrowed in confusion.

  Dad rolled his eyes. “Logan, what I’m saying is that although Elle getting pregnant was unexpected, it seems like it worked out for the best. She makes you really happy. It’s different now, and no one is saying you have to run and get married like your Mom and I did, but I do think you should find a way to hold on to her.”

  “I knew y’all got married because of me!” I snorted.

  “That was the expectation back then.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes at him. “It was the 80’s not the 1800s.”

  “Still. It was convention. And I bucked it, staying home with you while your mom went back to school. All the bullshit I got because of that. Like a dad, taking care of their kid was the worst thing in the whole fucking world.”

  “You sure acted like it was.” I mumbled.

  Dad’s cheeks reddened, and he quickly chugged the rest of his coffee.

  “…Be a better father than I was Logan. There weren’t groups and communities for stay-at-home Dads back then like there are now. Wife got your balls in her purse! Better change out of those pants and grab a skirt! Comments like that made me resentful. Made a wonderful thing created in love into something that disgusted me. I turned that anger outward and pushed you away.”

  I looked at Dad. His rough and worn hands circled his mug the same way mine did.

  “It wasn’t all bad. We had sports. We had wrestling.” I shrugged.

  Dad leaned back in his chair and patted the championship belt. “That we did. And you did more with that than I ever would have imagined.”

  “I hadn’t had a chance to ask. What did you think of the pay-per-view?”

  Dad stood up and walked over for another cup of coffee. I didn’t dare ask what number cup that was. As he stood at the pot, I got to truly observe how ridiculous he looked in patterned pajama pants, a white tank top, a fluffy blue bathrobe, and my shiny championship belt around his waist.

  “You look ridiculous,” I said over my shoulder.

  Dad thumped me on the back of the head as he headed back to his chair.

  “You can’t tell me that all fathers to championship winners don’t dress like this?!”

  I shook my head. “Anyway, so what did you think?”

  “…I thought it was really damn good. That 450 corkscrew was top tier shit!”

  “Thanks Dad.”

  When Elle dragged herself into the kitchen, Dad and I were deep into the layout of my match. Which spots I had planned, and what I came up with on the fly. Dad loved breaking down my process and analyzing what I could do better or differently next time. I wasn’t too fond of his breakdowns. Not that there was anything wrong with it, I just wasn’t analytical about wrestling. Thankfully, Elle’s wonderful presence rescued me.

  “Morning sweetie.” I smiled at her as she slumped into an open chair.

  Elle grunted something and Dad laughed.

  “She’s as much of shining sun as your mother! Do they still let pregnant women have coffee?” He asked.

  “She can have one small cup a day.” I explained.

  “Well, get off your ass and get her one, then.” Dad shooed.

  Luckily Elle and Mom took their coffee very similarly. Very sweet with lots of cream and sugar. I handed Elle a mug made up just how she liked it and pressed a kiss to her forehead for good measure.

  “Did my girls sleep okay?” I asked.

  Elle nodded behind her coffee cup as she took a deep gulp.

  “Dad and I were just talking shop.” I said as I sat down.

  “Shop?” Elle asked as she finally sat down her mug.

  It surprised me she hadn’t inhaled all the coffee in one go.

  “Wrestling. I think that since GJPW lost Logan, they lost a lot of star power in the west.” Dad smiled.

  After having time to warm up to her, I was glad Dad was attempting to find common ground with Elle. Elle on the other hand was taken aback that Dad was talking to her. She gaped at me. I reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. She squeaked, then coughed before speaking.

  “…I mean, I guess one could say that, but Logan had done all he could do in Japan. He had carved out a place for himself in the Mount Rushmore of wrestling, but only to hardcore fans. If he ever wanted mainstream appeal, he needed to jump ship.”

  I nodded along with Elle’s finely crafted points. She had definitely done the work of studying my career. I planned on giving her shit later.

  “Yes, but as a lifelong wrestling fan, one who would be watching with or without my son in the main event, I don’t find myself switching over to GJPW anymore when I have time to watch wrestling.” Dad said.

  “Maybe not, but I think GJPW is doing the work to build up other stars. And besides, there are other heavyweights to carry the load of the promotion.” Elle countered.

  “Maybe, maybe.” Dad mused as he took a swig of coffee. “Logan changed things up once he came to America. What do you think of his current move set? I think he could afford to add some flash to his ring work. What about you?”

  Elle vigorously shook her head in disagreement. “I love Japanese wrestling, but their hard-hitting style makes me cringe. Sometimes it can be dangerous, and I’m glad Logan did what he had to do to adjust when he came to America. I love your son and I’d like it if he could keep doing what he loved for longer than ending up dead or paralyzed.”

  Dad smiled. “Sensible. Very sensible.”

  I settled back in my seat and listened as Dad and Elle talked about wrestling. I was the only one in the room with actual ring experience, but in this instance, I was fine sitting on the sidelines. Wrestling was stupid. It was stupid carny bullshit, filled with unnecessary drama and overblown egos. But at the base of it all, wrestling could be fun. That was easy to forget when I was in the grind. But watching Dad and my pregnant girlfriend animatedly debate the best looking and most damaging wrestling moves was an amazing example of the goodness shining through.

  Elle

  Dex and Sandy were good people. Logan was lucky to have them as parents, and I was lucky they’d be in the baby’s life. I didn’t have parents, so watching their family dynamic was a bit odd. Not because of anything they did, but because I wanted to jump in and make everything run smoothly. Logan had to remind me that family isn’t always like it is on TV and a small part of me hated that he burst that fantasy with logic. After we left his parents’ house, we spent 4 days on the beach in the Florida Keys.

  On our last day on the beach, we headed back to our neglected towels after a swim. As I dried off, I caught Logan staring at me. His beautiful eyes glinted in the sunlight. I pulled my towel over my front self-consciously. I suddenly felt aware of all my flaws. Butt dimples, stretch marks, sagging boobs. Logan grabbed my wrist and forced the towel to the ground.

  “Don’t cover up. Elle, your body is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  I started to roll my eyes, but Logan grabbed both my shoulders and grinned at me.

  “I don’t care how many times I have to say it. I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face or my tongue falls off. Your body is beautiful. With baby, before baby, after baby. You are the most gorgeous woman in the world. I love you.”

  My eyes closed as I recalled that kiss. Under the clear blue sky on the soft brown sand. Logan kissed me like his life depended on it. I wasn’t convinced of his words before, but his lips won me over.

  God…

  I took a moment to reminisce on Logan’s lips before I forced myself off the bed. That blissful alone time was now over, and we were back to reality in Miami for the Frank Gotch Industry Awards.

  Whatever those are.

  I pulled my braids up into a bun. I let out a string of swear words as I fought to tuck the ends. Once I finally had it in place, I popped in a pair of dangling silver earrings. I opened the closet and sighed. Hanging on a hanger was my dress for tonight. A specialty ordered maternity gown. I loved the pictures online and prayed it would look as good on me. I stepped into the soft blush pink fabric and slid it up my body. The fabric draped my full figure perfectly. The short sleeve/off the shoulder combo made my boobs look amazing. I admired myself in the mirror and couldn’t help smiling. I looked like a mighty, sexy, pregnancy goddess. The hotel room door clicked, and I spun around to Logan. He had completely stopped mid-step and staring at me with his mouth agape.

  “Hi…” I said sheepishly.

  His cheeks pinked. “Elle, you look amazing. Fucking amazing.”

  I smiled, “Thanks.”

  “I mean it. You are perfect.” Logan stepped forward and cupped my cheek.

  “You look pretty good, too.”

  I glanced down at the black suit he had dressed down by neglecting a tie and undoing the top two buttons of his white shirt. I grimaced as baby girl shifted and pressed my bladder.

  Pregnancy bladder! Need to pee!

  I ducked into the bathroom for a quick pee. Then I splashed on some foundation, some lipstick, and a spritz of perfume. I stepped out of the bathroom to Logan, pulling his championship out of this bag. I smiled. He needed it for the awards and for the pay-per-view, thankfully he was able to get it back from his dad. I stepped into my pair of black flats, grabbed my matching clutch off the nightstand, and turned to Logan. He hung his belt off his shoulder, holding it in place with one hand and holding my hand with the other.

  “Ready?” He grinned at me.

  I nodded.

  “Hold on a second!” Logan pulled out his phone out of this pants pocket.

  He held it up, kissed my cheek, and snapped a quick picture of us. I grimaced when he showed me the shot. I grinned too wide, and my eyes looked half closed. Logan, of course, looked great.

  Stupid sexy jerk face.

  After refusing to delete the picture because, according to him, we looked cute, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and extended his arm towards me. I smiled and linked my arm around his for our walk to the elevator. We had decided not to be too affectionate in public, especially around wrestling fans. (Championship celebratory parking lot sex notwithstanding, of course.) Wrestling fans had a reputation for being overbearing and sometimes downright creepy. As a fangirl myself, I saw nothing wrong with fanfiction or fanart.

  It crossed the line when fans sent packages to wrestler’s unlisted addresses or ran weird role play accounts acting as the wrestlers themselves on social media. One D-list actress married a very popular wrestler and fans went crazy. Even now, 5 years later, she still had accounts dedicated to hating her and their children. Logan was the star, and I had no problem staying in the background.

  Logan glanced at me. “How are my girls?”

  I touched my stomach. “We’re good. I’m hoping this awards thing has good food.”

  “They usually do.”

  I glanced at the number panel as we had 12 floors to go before the ballroom. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “So, what are these awards for?”

  Logan laughed. “The Frank Gotch Awards are kinda more of a fundraiser than an awards show. As you know, this industry doesn’t have and benefits or health insurance. This gala helps pool money for wrestlers who don’t have it. They also honor some of the best in wrestling over the past year.”

  “Cool. Cool.”

  “Love you Elle.” He whispered.

  My chest tightened. We expressed our love constantly, but those three little words on his lips never failed to give me butterflies. I opened my mouth to reply when the elevator dinged, and the doors opened to the ballroom. Logan gave my arm a quick squeeze before stepping out of the elevator ahead of me. He walked over to the line of waiting photographers and journalists on a makeshift red carpet.

  Suddenly, I was on my own. I swallowed hard as I looked at all the glamor around me. Over the top wrestlers still managed to look larger than life in suits and gowns. I didn’t see anyone I personally knew. I did see several wrestlers that I grew up watching and it took everything to restrain my inner fangirl. As I suffocated my excitement, my anxiety fought its way to the top. I felt out of place. I felt self-conscious. I let out a breath and touched my belly.

  We can do this baby girl!

  I waddled over to the tables and looked for Logan’s name card. I ignored a few questionable looks from random people in my search. My searching was slowed by the massive centerpieces on the tables. Big stones vases filled with flowers and leaves were meant to invoke ancient Greek imagery. To me, it looked gaudy. Eventually I found Logan’s name card near the stage and gratefully slumped down in the seat marked for Guest of Logan Cole. I ran my fingertips over the raised lettering on the fancy paper and sighed.

  Across the room, and spotted Logan surrounded by other wrestlers. They were making a show of things, playing up their characters while the photographers clicked frantically. I smiled. Logan’s ability, hell, every wrestler’s ability to switch personas at the drop of a hat amazed me. They were great actors, just not in films.