Chapter 23 #3
I can’t help but let out a laugh, my bad mood temporarily forgotten.
Removing my hat, I offer a million-dollar smile of my own.
“That’s nice of you to say. Thank you. I apologize for my slow friend.
He was dropped on his head a lot as a baby.
I assure you, he hasn’t been drinking. In fact, he’s rushing me to the stadium for our practice. That’s why he was speeding.”
The police officer appears conflicted.
“Listen,” I continue, “how about you let my butler get me to the stadium on time? As an expression of my gratitude, I’ll leave you and your daughters four tickets right on the floor for our next game.
I’ll even stop by myself with signed jerseys for your girls.
It will be a night they never forget. You’ll be their hero. ”
His face immediately brightens. “Oh wow. That would be incredible. Thank you, Ms. Jeffries.”
“Mrs. Humblecut,” Daylen mumbles grumpily.
I snap my head to him and give him a look of warning. He has seriously lost his marbles. Every single one of them.
The police officer lets us go, and we pull back onto the street, making our way to Daylen’s house in silence because I’m still processing his insane behavior since I told him about the baby.
At least I do have the wherewithal to text Booster to have him take care of the police officer’s tickets and jerseys for me.
We’re now waiting for the first two pregnancy tests to marinate properly. I appropriately had enough pee for two tests, rendering the other twenty-seven completely useless. Frankly, they’re all useless. I know the answer.
I’m fiddling with my phone to waste time, but the reception is terrible. I go to the Wi-Fi settings to try to find Daylen’s network, but none of them make sense. Nothing with his name or address. “What’s your Wi-Fi network?” I ask.
“Police Surveillance Van #2,” he answers without hesitation.
Sure enough, that’s on the list of networks in range.
“I know I’ll regret asking this, but why?”
“Because I like fucking with my neighbors. Duh. Can you imagine the looks on their faces when they went to log onto their networks and they saw a police van network on the street?” He laughs as he amuses himself.
The father of my child, ladies and gentlemen.
I look through his belongings on his vanity.
I notice a tube of Crest Kids’ strawberry-flavored toothpaste that I must have missed earlier when he was pounding into me and choking me in this very spot.
I pick it up and look at it. Holy shit. Now it all makes sense.
“This is why you always taste like strawberries? You use kids’ toothpaste. ”
He smiles. “I use real toothpaste too, but then I use this at the end. Doesn’t it taste good? Every man can taste like mint, but very few can taste like strawberries. Don’t deny that you like it. Who doesn’t like the taste of strawberries?”
I’m marveling at his thought process when his alarm pings that it’s time. He’s physically bouncing up and down with excitement. What’s wrong with him?
He hands me one and keeps one for himself. I glance down at mine and see that it’s got two lines, meaning I’m pregnant. He makes a whole show of doing a countdown, so I pretend like I don’t already know the results. “Three, two, one…”
He looks at his and then he does one of his touchdown dances. The Cabbage Patch, as he often does at his games when celebrating a big play.
The guy does have shockingly good rhythm for a big man, but I truly can’t get over how happy he is about this.
He then lifts me in the air and twirls me around before bringing his lips to mine for the sweetest kiss as he happily breathes into my mouth, “We’re going to be parents. You and me. Forever.”
Forever? All I’m thinking about right now is the math.
Math to make sure I’m okay to play this entire season and will be back in time for next season.
Given that it’s easy to calculate the exact date when the baby was conceived, I should be due in March.
The real question is how quickly I’ll be showing.
It’s July now. If we progress into the playoffs like we hope to, my season won’t be over until mid-October.
It will be close. I’ve never wished more that I had a real relationship with my mother.
I could ask her when she started showing, though our bodies are nothing alike so it would probably be meaningless anyway.
There’s only one person who I want right now. Fallon. The therapist told me to lean on those who give me comfort and support. She gives that to me. My friends do too, but she’s a mother, and she already knows about the possibility of me being pregnant.
I tap Daylen’s arm. “Put me down.”
He does.
I wave awkwardly. “I’m heading out. I’ll catch you later.”
His face falls. “What? We need to celebrate. I’ll get the champ…oh crap, no liquor. I’ll get rid of all of it. Don’t worry.”
For some reason, that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back for me.
“I’m not worried about fucking liquor, Daylen.
I have about a thousand things I’m worried about, but the temptation of alcohol isn’t one of them.
” I try to shuck out of his embrace but can’t budge an inch. “Let me go.” Why is he so damn strong?
He doesn’t. He strengthens his hold around me and asks, “What can I do to help?”
“You can stop suffocating me,” I yell. He finally releases me, and I quickly step back away from him, practically gasping for theoretical air.
“I appreciate that you’re excited, and I truly appreciate how amazing you’ve been, but I’m still figuring out how I feel about this.
Being a twenty-six-year-old single mom during the height of my career wasn’t exactly in the plan. ”
“Single mom?” he questions in complete and total shock. “You’re not going to be a single mom. We’re married. You’re going to move in, and we’ll raise her together as husband and wife. We’re going to be a family.”
I ball my fists, ready to explode on him.
“Move in?” I scream. “Husband and wife? Family?” I shout.
“Do you even hear yourself? Daylen, we hated each other a few months ago. Hated. Like I couldn’t stand the sight of you, and I know you felt the same way about me.
Then we got drunk in Vegas and got married.
It should have been annulled hours later but Judge Decrepit decided to fuck with us for his own morbid amusement.
We’re getting the marriage annulled at the end of the year.
We won’t be husband and wife when this child is born.
I’m absolutely not moving in here. We’re not together and never will be. Get all that through your thick skull.”
His face falls like he’s going to cry. It’s as if none of this occurred to him. I don’t understand why he would think we’re going to be one big happy family.
It pains me to see him so upset. Shit, that was harsh. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he wasn’t living in reality.
He trembles a bit. His hands are shaking while his brow creases in a way I’ve never seen from him before. He’s genuinely shocked and saddened by my words.
“Where’s the happy ending in all that?” he asks, looking like a lost puppy. “Where’s our happy ending?”
I touch his arm, needing to comfort him. “Not all stories have happy endings, Daylen. If they did, they’d just be called endings.”
As if sensing his need, BJ nuzzles into Daylen’s side, and he instinctively rubs behind her ear, much to her obvious delight. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. It’s second nature for him to take care of her.
“Daylen,” I continue with a more even tone, “I have zero doubt that you’re going to be an amazing father.
You had an amazing father. You’re already an amazing father to BJ.
You’re such a good man and a natural caregiver.
Our child is so fucking lucky to have you as a father.
” I tap two fingers on my chest. “I’m the one who’s fucked up.
I’m the one who might not be a good mother. ”
I lick my lips nervously as I prepare to say something out loud that I’ve only said once before, and that was to the therapist in Maine.
“When I was in high school, I was dating a college guy. We were together for several months. I thought I was in love with him. I came home one day and found him fucking my mother on my family’s kitchen table. ”
“What?” he breathes in disbelief.
Tears fill my eyes. “Yes. My mother slept with my boyfriend. That’s the woman who raised me. That’s who set an example of motherhood for me. I’m not sure I’m equipped for this.”
He stands there completely dumbfounded. An absolutely normal response to what I’ve just told him. Because no, it’s not fucking normal for a mother to have sex with her daughter’s boyfriend.
Tears now spill from my eyes. I see his internal battle, but because he’s such a good human being, kindness wins out, and he pulls me into his arms. I fight it at first, but he doesn’t let me go. He holds me, rubbing my back and kissing my head while whispering, “Let it out. You need this.”
And then I sob in a way I haven’t in the ten years since it happened. I sob and sob and sob until his T-shirt is soaked all the way through.
Damn her. I swore I’d never cry over her again.
When there are no tears left and my shaking has subsided, he finally releases me. “Let me get you some water.”
I follow him to the kitchen, where he secures me a bottle. I take it from him. “Thank you.”
He nods with a somber look on his face. “Are you okay?”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Honestly? I don’t know.
I’m sorry if I was harsh. I’m still processing this.
But, Daylen, I’m not going to be someone who stays married for the sake of the children.
I’m confident my parents did that, and it didn’t turn out so well for them.
They were both miserable for years. I care about you, I truly do, but you have to admit this situation is nuts.
We’re not in love. Don’t you want to be in love with your wife? ”
He runs his fingers through his hair. “I care about you. A lot. I could love you one day, I know I could,” he admits with complete and total sincerity.
“But you don’t love me now, and I feel the exact same way about you.
” I hold up my hands almost in surrender.
“I need us to slow down. I need to wrap my mind around this unexpected news. I need to figure out how it impacts my life and my career. Right now, the only thing on my mind is making sure I can finish this season. I have no idea when I’ll pop or how I’ll be feeling.
I’ve been so damn tired for the past few weeks.
Is it going to get worse? Will I have enough energy to play ball?
Will my body changes end my season early? ”
His eyes widen in realization as he sucks in a breath. “The way you play, Kennedy. It’s so rough. There are always elbows flying and hard falls to the ground. It might be dangerous for the baby.”
A bit of anger bubbles inside me, but I do my best to remain calm as I state, “To be perfectly clear, while I value your thoughts on our child tremendously, I’m not asking for your permission on this issue.
My style of play will not change. You’re about to become a father.
Will your style of play change?” I challenge.
He’s quiet. It’s not a battle he should fight, and he realizes it.