as much as fletcher loved the fight, he loved sanem more. feverishly, endlessly. sanem was his everything, and the baby in her stomach . . . he would protect the both of them with everything he had. he hoped it wouldn’t come to anything of the sort, that the bruises on his hands would heal and stay healed, but there was a part of fletcher that would always be attuned to what could happen. at the very least, he was comfortable in the knowledge that he would be able to keep his family safe no matter what. months in, and he still wasn’t sure what to say to his father. his mother knew—he had told her almost immediately—but fletcher made her vow not to tell the patriarch. to mr liu, fletcher had been a constant disappointment. there was nothing to prove that the case would be different for a child.
what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. there was a part of fletcher that wanted to divorce their lives entirely, to cut his father off like a rotten tree branch and throw him far away. but a need to please him, to impress him, still weighed heavy. it was the reason that fletcher had fought, trained in kung-fu and muay thai and karate, had learned discipline and had grown a business so that he never had to look at his bank account before making a purchase. without sanem, all that success would have felt empty. what use was it if he had nobody to share it with?
“i think it looks incredible, love. are you sure there’s nothing else you need me to put together?” sanem was the creative visionary of the nursery, and fletcher was just the muscle. he was much better at building cribs and bookcases and rocking chairs, although the confusing and endless instructions often had his rage rising up to boiling point. “you’ve done an incredible job. this little thing is going to love it in here. i’d put money on it.” his hand moved to rest on the swell of sanem’s bump as they shared another long, passionate kiss; fletcher reluctantly peeled away when she did.
one last look around the nursery, and fletcher shook his head. “i can’t think of anything else. maybe they’re a little too young for their own boxing ring, but we can think about that when they’re older,” his stony face cracked and offered a sweet smile, supporting sanem in her move to her feet. as the months went by, it grew harder for her to go about her daily life—but that just meant fletcher was even more on hand to help. endless foot rubs, shaving her legs for her in the bath, reaching high shelves and carrying her up the stairs to bed every night. at the end of the nine months, he was sure he would miss it. doting on sanem felt like the most natural thing in the world, and if there was one good thing to come out of his distance from the fight club it was that he had even more time in order to do it.
“my day was busy. boring. i had somebody that thought they’d look like the rock after a week of personal training, which . . . i mean, i couldn’t hide my reaction. i had to laugh.” working in a gym had its fair share of perks, and a good dosage of idiots for good measure. fletcher’s brow cocked, and he rubbed his palm over sanem’s belly once more. “oh, are they? interesting . . . and how do they know what chipotle is?” it was a change to his chicken and rice, but he supposed it was one of the healthier options. better than mcdonalds, or some of those weird pregnancy cravings like ice-cream and pickle juice. “we can order whatever you—oh, sorry—whatever our son or daughter wants. you just say the word.”
