Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“We have time to think about it.” Her fingers knotted at her midsection. “Have you told anyone here yet?”
“I haven’t,” I confessed. “But I will soon. I wanted to talk to you about it.”
She held up both hands. “You can decide when. No pressure. The jersey is big enough to hide it for tonight. No one will guess.”
“I just know there’s going to be a lot of bullshit gossip, and I want to protect you from it.”
“I understand.”
“I spoke to Shea, one of the team’s media relations people last week. She said probably the best thing will be to just tell the truth—or at least a version of it. It was a surprise, but we’re friends, and we’re going to co-parent. I’m going to be supportive and involved.” It sounded so rote when I said it like that. Like a script, which I guess it was.
“That’s cool with me.” She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, making the bump more noticeable. “I’ll confirm that, if anyone asks.”
“I just don’t really want it getting out there while you’re here,” I said, unable to take my eyes off her belly. “I don’t want Chicago media to have any kind of access to you. Shea thought maybe it would be good around Christmas. A feel-good kind of post on social media or something.”
“Okay. Ooh!” She placed a hand on her stomach. “He heard you talking about him.”
Instinctively, I moved toward her with my hand out—then stopped. “Can I—is it okay if—”
“It’s fine,” she said, reaching for my hand. “Come here.”
I placed my palm on the bump, over her sweater, and waited. After a long moment, she looked at me, her eyebrows raised.
“Did you feel that?”
“No,” I said, disappointed.
“Hang on, sometimes he moves more when I’m sitting.” She lowered herself onto the edge of the bed and leaned back on one hand. With the other, she lifted her sweater, revealing a stretchy navy blue panel where the zipper and button would normally be. Pushing the panel down, her rounded belly appeared. “Come sit,” she said.
I dropped down next to her.
She reached for my hand and brought it to her skin, which was warm and firm. “Okay, now just wait.”
I waited, my breath trapped in my lungs, my pulse racing.
“Come on, little guy. Don’t be shy,” Mabel coaxed. “It’s just your daddy. He wants to—”
And I felt it—beneath my hand, I felt the tiniest little bump you can imagine. But the reaction it provoked in me was huge. My heart blew up like a balloon, and my throat closed.
Mabel grinned. “Did you feel it?”
I nodded. I couldn’t speak. I left my hand where it was, hoping to feel my son move again.
“Talk to him,” Mabel urged.
“What do I say?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just let him hear your voice.”
I stared at my hand on her stomach, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that my child was in there—the kid I’d teach to skate and take to his grandpa’s restaurant and run alongside as he learned to ride a two-wheeler. “Hey, buddy,” I said. “Are you really in there?”
Thump.
Mabel laughed. “There’s your answer.”
“I can’t wait to meet you,” I said, feeling kind of stupid but also ridiculously happy. “And introduce you to your cousins and your grandparents. And teach you to skate and handle a stick and pass and shoot and how to be the kind of player coaches love.”
“Maybe you’ll be his coach someday.”
I met Mabel’s eyes and swallowed. “Maybe I will.”
She smiled, and I had that urge again to pull her close. Bury my face in her hair and breathe her in. Lay my cheek on her stomach and listen. Put my lips on her skin.
Reimagine my future.
Removing my hand from her belly, I stood up. “I should probably give you a minute. Bathroom is right across the hall, and it’s all yours. I hung clean towels in there for you. Extra blankets are in the closet.”
“Okay.” She pulled the stretchy navy material up over the bump. “I just need to change out of my sweater and put my contacts in.”
I nodded. “We’ll head out in about twenty?”
“Perfect.”
I left the guest room and headed down the hall. In my bedroom, I shut the door and dropped onto the foot of the bed, my hands curled over the mattress edge. My heart was beating hard, and I felt like a stranger in my own skin.
Get dressed, I told myself. Put on your suit and tie. Go to the arena. Get the pads on. Lace up your skates. Get on the ice. That’s where you’ll feel like yourself again.
I pushed myself up off the bed, certain it would happen.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” I paused in front of the Irish pub’s door and looked at Mabel. I’d told my teammates we’d join them for post-game drinks, but it was so crowded and loud in there. Mabel couldn’t even have alcohol—wouldn’t she be miserable around a bunch of tipsy strangers?