The Own Goal ✔️

Part 84

I feel him climb into bed next to me.
It's only 10pm.
He stayed out for a meal with his parents after the 4pm kickoff. I wasn't expecting him back so early and definitely not expecting him to come straight to bed.

"I'm awake" I say softly turning over.
His hand rests on my hip as I face him. I'm very aware of my still squishy tummy under the heel of his palm.
"How is everyone?"

"They all missed ya"
Mia has chicken pox. All we can do is hope Esme doesn't catch it.
I know he had really wanted me at this game. Liverpool at home. A practise run for the FA cup final in 6 days at wembley.  Before that though he's got  Atletico Madrid away, I won't see him between those games, they're not coming home between the Madrid game and the Wembley game.
I'm praying Mia is well enough for us to go to wembley.
"We drew"

"I know, I watched" I smile.
I've literally only just put Esme down after her feed. I could be starting three hours sleep.
But it is only 10pm.
"You played well baby" I reach out to touch his cheek.
His hand grips my side firmer.
But he isn't going to make the first move.

I don't deserve him to, not after how I've rejected him lately.
The first 5 weeks were a write off, thanks to the infection I bled heavier than after Mia.
He knew that, every couple of days poor bloke would turn his phone on after training to a text message saying 'breast pads and extra large maternity pads'.

There had been a night where we'd had a little kiss in bed, it had been nice.
"How's ya bleeding?" He'd asked softly, his hand just below my belly button.

"Yeah, it's stopped"
The kissing had been nice, really nice.
I don't even think really he was pushing for anything, he was just being him, just being lovely, just loving me.....
But his hand had flittered at the elastic of my granny pants and I'd frozen.
"No, stop it Jack" I'd pulled back.

"We can jus' play around if ya want....."

I could have said ok, I could have given him a wank. Poor bloke had been in forced celibacy from halfway through my pregnancy.
Overnight I went from feeling constantly horny to thinking I could see the appeal in becoming a nun.

"Fuck sake Jack, it's all you think about! I'm nowhere near ready!"

He'd looked hurt.
Even if it had been all he'd thought about he hadn't projected that onto me at all.

Then, last week he'd come home excited after a game, we had a cuddle in the kitchen, he'd kissed me.
More of the peck he'd been resigning himself to.
I had leaned into it.
He'd slipped his tongue through my lips, and of course I'd obviously let him.
But, then his hand went to the small of my back, holding me tighter.
"Fuck sake Jack" I'd scorned yet again.

"Wot?" Again, he'd looked devestated.

"I'm not ready Jack!"

"It was jus' a fuckin' kiss Chels? I wasn't about to rip ya clothes off, jus' enjoying a fuckin' kiss" he'd stomped off to the gym, I'd heard the music pumping and the weights clunking when I passed the door on my way to the utility room.

He'd barely touched me since.
Just little pecks goodbye and hello.

I was pushing him away.
I didn't want to push him away.

He's everything.
Hot as fuck.
Kind, loving, a great dad, sensitive, funny........
All he does is send little signals that he still wants me, and all I do is push him away and then I worry he's losing interest in me.

I make the first move.

I shift closer to him. I feel a pang of regret at how I've been making him feel in my heart when I realise he's wearing actual pyjamas. I've rejected him so much he's put full bloody pyjamas on.
I move my hand to his neck.
"I love you baby, I'm sorry I've been shit"