Chapter 2

Brady flicked the light off in the bathroom that night with careful caution. Samantha was already in bed, turned to one side, her light dimmed. He tip-toed from the bathroom towards his side, his tight white t-shirt and boxer shorts clinging to his thick frame. As he bent down to reach for the covers, his stomach gave a large growl.
Samantha rolled over in an instant and looked at him, a curious smile cracking on her lips. “Was that your stomach?”
Brady dropped into bed with a creak and a nod. His wife reached over and placed a petite hand on his midsection: “Are you still hungry?” He had already eaten so much at dinner, she thought, more than usual. It must have been a long day…
Brady rubbed his temples and the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s okay though, I’ll eat in the morning.”
She narrowed her brow. She could tell when he was being shifty, as the back of his neck reddened. “What is it, Brady Bear?”
He looked over and opened up. “I love living with you. I love sharing a home with you, I love our life. I think I’ve just been…kinda…I dunno, being on good behaviour in front of you. Watching my portions, especially for the wedding with the suit and everything. My body is just so used to eating so much for football. I thought it’d die down when I quit, but I work so hard and –”
She stopped him with a hand to his cheek. “Baby, you don’t have to be anything but yourself for me, okay?”
“It’s not that I’m ungrateful,” he stammered, getting upset, “I just need a bit more than you during the day.”
Now, Samantha kissed him. “Enough. I want you happy, and I don’t need you starving to death just to be gentlemanly. I remember how you were when we first started dating, you were like a dumpster for everything! We’re here, we’re happy now, all we need to do is be ourselves.”
He patted her hand and she pulled back the covers. “Let’s go make you something to eat. I’ll go to CostCo tomorrow and stock the pantry properly, now.”
“No,” he stopped her. “I’ll do it. You’re not my personal chef, I can chip in more with the cooking. I think that’ll make a difference.”
She watched him as he walked away, his massive frame filling the door. Sam slipped off the bed and followed him downstairs, asking him all about work drama and telling him about how her girlfriend Cristine had really hurt herself on a trip to Rome. He barely fit under the kitchen vent as he fried up half a pack of bacon and some hashbrowns.
When he was ready, he slid the portions onto two plates and dumped two sunny side eggs on top. Sam looked at him, “One for me?”
He smiled and passed her a fork. “What do you take me for, an animal?” he said in a terrible British accent. She picked it up and did her best, still full from the oversized portion of dinner. Sam watched in awe as Brady was able to shovel huge forkfuls in one go and not spill a single drop, his masculine jaw tensing and flexing while he chewed and breathed with great effort. She watched as he shuffled to the fridge and produced their milk jug, drinking straight from the bottle.
“Hey!” Sam laughed. He stopped and got a glass, and added a splash of chocolate syrup for good measure. When he was finished, he breathed a small burp and started to clean up. Sam had done her best, but a small portion of egg still remained. Brady finished it for her.
He leaned back, satiated.
“Friday night, tomorrow, right?” He pondered. Sam told him it was. “Why don’t you let me take care of dinner, then? As a treat. I’ll get the stuff I need on my way home.”
Sam agreed and together they started to make a CostCo shopping list. She sat up on the counter, leaning back and intentionally letting her blonde hair brush over her shoulder so that she could flick it away. Sam knew when Brady had stopped paying attention to the list, and when he had just started watching her. Soon, his massive hands had found her svelte waist and he was taking her, right there and then, in the kitchen. Their mouths both tasted of bacon fat and salt.