The door clicks when it closes behind me as I walk into the newsroom. I'm immediately greeted by the sounds of the police scanners at the assignments desk, quietly squawking with whatever chatter emergency crews are talking about today.Rowen and I took a few extra days off work when we got back from Fiji so we could settle into our new routine as husband and wife. And settle we did. After a lot of consideration, Rowen ended up moving into my apartment with me. Although we liked the idea of living in the more secluded area of Rowen's garage apartment, moving to mine won out. Not because it's bigger and newer, but because it's closer to my job, which means it's less of a drive when I get off work in the middle of the night. Rowen also likes that since it's a big complex, there are more people around at all hours. He said he'll feel more comfortable about leaving me at home when he goes on the road.Not that I haven't lived on my own for years, but he was raised to be chivalrous and pro

Pepto. Soup. Crackers. Sprite. Deodorant.... What else?I can't remember. Tiffany told me to make list this morning when I told her I was going to the store after practice. Did I listen? No. So now I'm wandering around Walmart, which I already hate, trying to remember what she told me to get.I look in my cart and run down my mental list again.Pepto. Soup. Crackers. Sprite.... Got all that. Turning down the aisle, I dodge a child who runs in front of my cart. That right there is why I'm okay with not having any kids right now, despite the inevitable questions from everyone asking why Tiffany and I eloped. I can't remember everything on my shopping list. How would I be able to keep up with a kid? I love Tiffany, and when the time is right, it'll happen. But I'm good with waiting for a while.Pepto. Soup. Crackers. Sprite… ooh! A three pack of my favorite deodorant is on sale! I snag that sucker and toss it in the cart. Athletes go through a shit ton of hygiene products. We have to unl

The pop of a comb on my head jars me awake."Ow!" I cry. "What'd you do that for?""You keep falling asleep in my chair," Quincy quips. "Makes it impossible to get this color done right if your head keeps bobbing.""Sorry. I don't know what my problem is," I admit. "I can't seem to get enough sleep lately.""It's all those late-night romps with your lover," Geni sing-songs."Geni! You have a client!" Quincy admonishes."So?" She holds up her first finger for us to give her a minute. "John," she says to the client sitting in her chair. "Are you even listening to what I say?""Nope." He doesn't look up from his phone. "I've got three daughters and a wife. I know how to tune you guys out."Geni makes an "I told you so" gesture. "Anyway, like I was saying. You'll probably feel better once you get out of this newlywed phase.""Please," I argue. "I've been so sick lately, there has been no newlywed phase.""You're gonna try to convince me you aren't having sex at least once every night."I p

Rubbing my face, I look around the room trying to get my bearings straight. Something woke me up and, judging by the sound of Tiffany coming around the corner, I assume it was her closing the front door."Hey, babe," I say, as I sit up, leaning against the arm of the couch. "How was work?"She drops her bag next to the couch, shoes already gone. She's so tiny compared to me that she's able to squeeze herself between my legs and the back of the couch, and I'm still not close to falling off the edge. Somehow, her feet end up on my lap, so I begin digging my thumb into her arches.She groans in pleasure. "How did you know I was going to need my feet rubbed tonight?""Lucky guess," I shrug. "Your hair looks nice.""Thanks. Quincy added highlights.""They look good. How was work?""Same as always. I take it you didn't watch the show?"I flinch. When she's at work, I try to watch the sports segment. She watches all my games, why wouldn't I support her the same way? "I'm sorry, babe. I fell a

The gynecologist office is not my idea of a good time. But I'm pretty sure that's a given for anybody. The room is always too cold. The flimsy gowns are always too small. And there's no way to hide your butt crack from anyone who opens the door.Plus, I hate the crinkly paper on the exam table. For whatever reason, the sound is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Thankfully, I'm sitting on one of those puppy pad things, so I don't feel the paper on my naked ass too.Rowen, of course, is sitting in the one chair that fits in the room, the lucky bastard, while I sit as still as I can trying not to move the crinkly paper. It's making my back hurt, but I'll take the lesser of two evils."What's wrong?" he asks, long legs stretched out across the floor."Nothing. Why?""You look really nervous." I shoot him a puzzled look. "You're completely stiff.""Oh. That. I'm trying not to make the paper move.""Why?""I hate the way it sounds. It grates on my nerves and makes me want to stab my ear drum