October seventeenth.

            To most of the world, the day was just another Thursday passing through with the other 364 days of the year. For Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick, it was his own national holiday, his 48th birthday, and another year that God had blessed him to see. Thanks to his wife, Karly, and son, Nash, he was riding on cloud nine every day, and not just on special occasions like this. Still, he couldn’t help snuggling up with his favorite girl a few more moments, nuzzling his face in her chestnut hair, smoothing a hand along her stomach, and tugging her closer to him. She groaned softly, shifting into his embrace and furrowing in the warmth his body provided.

            A smile tugged at his lips as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple, only slightly covered by a few wisps of hair that had escaped her low ponytail. He had at least five minutes before his alarm sounded and he planned to enjoy every moment before getting up, dressing, and hopping on a flight to Los Angeles. The ramifications of the trip brought a wider smile to his face; he couldn’t believe it. If Karly were awake, he’d demand she pinch him. He was finally—FINALLY going to be reuniting with his brothers Justin, Joey, Lance, and JC, and making the music the fans had been waiting ages for. He could hardly contain himself, his mind reeling back over the last couple decades of knowing them. He recalled the tours and daylong photo shoots; the rehearsals and interviews; the studio sessions and rare off days at random amusement parks; the laughs and the tears, and even the arguments, though they were far and in between. He chuckled at the early days, the embarrassing moments, the stressful times, and even the goodbyes that seemed final at the time but never really manifested.

            Justin was a superstar and that was always evident, but so were he and JC, Joey, and Lance, though their talents were often forgotten about and disregarded. They all were legends in their own rights and had seen much success that spanned the brand and foundation of *NSYNC, but nothing—NOTHING meant more to each of them than the other four guys and getting back to the basics. They had started out as five and would continue on as five, and Chris could hardly wait for what was to come.

            “Awexa, play Bye, Bye, Bye,” he heard the familiar whisper in the near distance, instantly bringing a smile to his lips that had just stretched in an epic yawn. Nash was obviously up and entertaining himself. Chris figured he would much rather hear his son’s two-year-old diction than the programmed alarm in his phone, and took that as his cue to get up.

            After peeling himself away from Karly’s warm, soft curves, he rubbed a hand through his dark, unkempt hair and stifled a yawn. He threw on a robe that didn’t make the cut for the most recent *NSYNC merchandise line, and stuffed his feet in a pair of house shoes that were worn and probably should have been tossed in yesterday’s trash, but he loved the comfort they provided.       

            “Nash-buddy, what ya doin’ in here?” he questioned softly, only after closing the bedroom door behind him and wandering down the hallway towards the living room.

            Nash whipped around, wide-eyed from being caught, clad in only a diaper that hung low on his hips, and a cheesy grin. Nash was the spitting image of Chris at that age, at least that’s what the proud father thought, admiring his son. He had been moving his backside to his “daddy and uncles,” singing, and trying his best to emulate dance moves that had been choreographed long before he was even thought of and long before his mother had ever stolen his father’s heart.

            Chris crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the doorframe. “You are so smart, you know that, buddy? You’re gonna be ready for preschool in no time.”

            Nash nodded and gave his infamous cheeky smile, baring straight white teeth and scrunching his nose adorably. “Nashy’s goin’ to pweschool?”

            Chris pushed away from the doorframe as JC’s infamous, high-pitched “Bye, bye, bay-beeeee,” filled the room, turning it down slightly. “Not yet, but you’re almost there, buddy.”

            “I’m hungry, Daddy,” Nash concluded his dance, sticking out a leg and throwing one of his arms upward. Then, he told ‘Awexa’ to play some other outrageously named song that Chris hadn’t heard of.

            “Let’s give Alexa a little break and fix Mommy some breakfast.” Chris scooped his kin up into his arms, raining kisses down on his forehead. He turned off the muted television and lowered his voice. “Eggs today? Cereal? What do you think we should make Mommy?”

            “Mmmm.” Nash stuck a tiny finger to his lips, his brown eyes rolling upward in serious thought. “Eggs and ceweal!”

            “I was thinking that too, especially since Daddy’s a terrible cook.”

            Unbeknownst to the pair, the woman in question had already awakened an hour earlier and prepared French toast, bacon, eggs, and sausage links for her two favorite boys. She’d also successfully managed to get balloons and streamers inside, decorating the living room in the wee hours of the morning with all sorts of birthday sayings and knickknacks. The surprise was complete with a cheesy handmade birthday sign and she had stuck candles in a giant cupcake with the numbers 4 and 8 by the stove. Karly, having been awake the entire time, suppressed a smile as her family passed the master bedroom. She performed a silent countdown, timing when their soft pitter-patters made it to the kitchen.

            Three…two…one…

            “Oh, man! Look at all this food and the balloons, and…and…the steamers and cool hanging thingies. Nash! Your mother is truly something special, dude,” Chris’s chuckle and grateful voice poured in from the kitchen. “Aw, man, we’ve gotta go and give Mommy some kisses to thank her for this birthday surprise. She got me GOOD!”

            “S’my birf’day?”

            “No, it’s my birthday. Yours passed already, remember? But you can share my day with me too.”

            Large brown eyes focused on equally large brown eyes. “Uh huh. Can I have your birf’day cake too, Daddy?”

            “Of course, baby boy. You can share my cupcake with me but only on one condition,” Chris mused, watching Nash’s eyes light up as the cupcake was placed in front of him on the table. “You listening?”

            “Uh uh,” Nash’s little pink tongue was nestled in the corner of his mouth in anticipation.

            “It’s between me and you. Mommy can’t know, okay? You’re laughing, but I’m serious. You cannot tell your…”

            “Ahem.”

            Both Chris and his son jumped about a foot in the air, their heads simultaneously snapping over to the doorway of the spacious kitchen where Karly stood. Nestled in a thick white robe, she was leaned into the doorframe casually, arms clasped in front of her, and ankles crossed comfortably. She lifted a dark eyebrow, looking back and forth between her husband and child, an amused smile tugging at her full lips.

            “Cupcakes for breakfast? I think that’s a no-no, Daddy,” she scolded, pushing away and walking towards the carafe of freshly brewed coffee.

            “You try telling that to this cute face,” Chris whined, sliding the saucer over from Nash’s eager hands. Nash frowned and pouted, to which Chris scoffed. His boy didn’t like being told no. “Oh, no. Not the lip. He’s picked that up from Justin, I’m telling ya.”

            “No cupcakes for breakfast, Nashy. You know that.”

            Chris tried one more time, racking his brain for some sort of reverse psychology ploy. He walked up behind his wife and wrapped his arms along her waist, swaying their bodies from side to side. “Come on. It’s my birthday. Can’t he have just a little bite, or two?”

            Karly grinned coolly, placing her mug down on the counter, and twirling around in his arms. She ran her small hands along his belly, up and across the expanse of his chest, and then smoothed along his face that was in need of a good shaving. His eyes fluttered closed as she pressed her body to his and connected her arms behind his head, locking him into her box of seduction. She kept her same smile in place, but it turned from sweet to mischievous when he finally opened his eyes again. They were nose-to-nose, forehead-to-forehead, and nearly mouth-to-mouth, when she whispered sexily, “Hey, babe? You remember the little outfit I’m wearing tonight for your celebration?”

            He nodded dumbly. “The, uh, little black dress and…and the sky-high heels?”

            “Mmhmm.” She leaned in to kiss his lips softly, teasingly, suppressing a smile. “I don’t plan on wearing any panties. You know, easy access for you later.” 

            Chris gulped loudly and abruptly, his normal playfulness long gone, as she spoke to the man in him.

            “That sound good?”

            His countertenor voice went up even higher. “That sounds great.”

            “Good. So you understand that if you want to get anywhere near my cupcake tonight while Nash is asleep, you’d better stick with me on this. I can guarantee that treat has got nothing on the dessert I’m planning on serving.”

            His eyes widened both in shock and because he was turned on. Karly wasn’t one to get crude, but her words were so deliciously naughty and unexpected that he found himself looking over a shoulder at their confused child. “Uh…Nash? You heard what your mother said. No cupcakes for breakfast. Sorry, buddy.”    

The End