Chapter 38
Teagan
“How was that, Coach?” Zoey asks once her floor routine music cuts out.
“You tell me,” I turn the question on her.
She twists her lips to the side as she folds her hands together. “I think overall my routine is great. My stunts are perfectly placed and I’m executing them well.”
“But…”
She groans. “I didn’t stick the landing off of my double salto with a twist.”
“Nope, you took three steps. The judges will notice that.”
“I know. Even if my stunt is performed perfectly, the landing is what counts.”
“Exactly. So let’s focus on breaking that stunt down next week and we’re going to focus on controlling every aspect of it,” I explain, then soften my tone. “You’re doing a great job. This stunt isn’t easy.”
“Pfft,” Zoey snorts. “Coming from you who did it perfectly at the last Olympics, followed by a double triple. You made it look easy.”
“That’s because I practiced a zillion times. You’ll get there.”
“Thanks, Coach.” Zoey smiles at me while removing her ponytail and letting her black curls down. “Are you going to compete again?” she asks because the girl doesn’t understand what it means to have a filter. Can’t say I blame her because she reminds me so much of myself.
“I am. I’m due in January, so I’ll have enough time to recover and get ready for the following summer.”
“I’ll be rooting for you.” She beams, never once doubting me.
“And I’ll be doing the same for you when it’s your turn.” I smile back at her, then we say goodbye and I make my way to my office.
With an audible sigh, I sink into my chair. You would think training as a professional athlete my entire life, that carrying a baby would be a piece of cake. And yet, I’ve never been more tired in my life.
My eyes land on my desk calendar that reads August 25, meaning there are just less than five months left until my due date. I had my sixteen-week checkup with Dr. Caruso yesterday, and she said everything’s looking as it should.
The confirmation that my baby is healthy never fails to make me elated beyond belief. Knowing that I’m doing something right by taking my prenatal pills, eating healthy, and resting makes me more proud of myself than I think I’ve ever been.
While it’s sometimes weird seeing how my body is changing, I know it’s needed in order to ensure our baby is healthy and thriving.
Quentin couldn’t be there due to a mandatory pitchers meeting, and he was beside himself over it.
He excused himself to the washroom for a few minutes so we could video chat during the ultrasound, and when the doctor said the baby was finally in position to tell the gender, we couldn’t have been more excited.
I made sure to tell her that we didn’t want to know, so she put it in an envelope for us, and I dropped it off at a local bakery so that we could find out together.
On my way home tonight, I pick up the gender reveal cake and head home to find out together with Quentin.
I unlock the front door, the melody of my favorite Sleep Token song filtering throughout the house. A warm, fuzzy feeling blooms in my chest every time I catch him listening to the music I like. It’s as if he’s trying to understand me through music, and fuck, that thought alone could make me sob.
Dropping the cake box gently on the counter, I look around in search of him.
I decide to check upstairs, finding the light on in what will be Blueberry’s room. Tiptoeing, doing my best not to make a sound, I peek into the room and find Quentin on the floor, putting together the crib.
It’s reminiscent of the time he built the crib in my apartment, and it feels like ages ago. So much has happened since then, between us, that it feels like that truly is from a past life.
And seeing the crib half-built makes everything feel surreal again. We’re having a baby together.
Not only that, the father of my baby is a good man. Hell, this man is grinning from ear to ear as he screws a screw in, completely in his own world because he hasn’t noticed I came home.
“Hi,” I call out to him as I lean on the frame of the open door.
His head swivels to me, instantly hopping up to his feet and coming to me. I hold my breath, unsure of what he’s going to do.
Unsure of what I want him to do.
Quentin’s hands fall on either side of my belly, and he bends to place a kiss there. “Hi, baby,” he coos, the cutest damn thing I’ve ever heard.
Then his eyes lift to mine, and he slowly stands, then he’s gently crushing me in a hug.
“Hi,” he gruffs into my hair.
I squeeze him back, resting my head on his shoulder as we embrace for a minute. I don’t know when we started hugging after coming home from work, but I don’t care to question it currently.
“Should we go find out what we’re having?” I ask as I pull away from him, a ball of nerves knotting in my belly suddenly.
“Let’s do it.” He smiles as we make our way downstairs to the kitchen together.
My palms are sweating as I take two clear wine stem glasses out of the cupboard and place them on the countertop beside our reveal cake.
I grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white as reality sets in. I’m going to find out within minutes if I’m having a daughter or a son.
I’m going to be a fucking mom. Who would’ve ever thought? Certainly not me. And yet, I couldn’t be more excited, also nauseous, about this perfect twist in my life.
“We don’t have to do this,” Quentin murmurs as he places his hand on top of mine.
“No, I want to know,” I say confidently. “It’s just…”
“Making it more real?”
“Exactly.”
Quentin releases my grip on the counter and intertwines his fingers with mine, his touch comforting.
“We’re in this together. It’s going to be scary. I’m sure we’re going to make mistakes, and that’s okay. There’s no perfect parent, except for the one who tries and loves with all they have.”
Tears well in my eyes and overflow before I can stop them, two single tears strolling down each of my cheeks.
“Fuck off, tears,” I say as I sniffle.
Using his free hand, Quentin caresses one cheek and then the other, removing them both.
“Pfft, what tears?”
That makes me laugh, and he laughs along with me.
Releasing my hand from his, I inhale and exhale deeply, then grip the stem of the wineglass.
“All right, let’s do this.”
“Okay, on the count of three, we’ll dig them in then pull them out. But we don’t look until we say it’s time,” he explains, as if he didn’t show me the video he saw a hundred times.
We both turn our heads to the side, and I begin counting. “One…two…three.”
I dig my cup into the cake, making sure I get a good chunk of it, then flip it back upright.
My entire body feels giddy with nerves and excitement, wondering what color I’m going to see when I turn around. I don’t care what color it is. I’m just excited to know who I’m bringing into this world.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he replies, sounding nervous like I was minutes ago.
“On the count of three. One…two…three.”
I turn my head quickly, my eyes zoning in on the bright pink icing in the middle of the cake.
I’m having a daughter.
I squeal in excitement, turning to find Quentin with tears in his eyes as he stares at his cup.
My hand shakes as I set the glass on the counter, so many emotions flowing through me.
“Are you okay?” I ask warily.
Quentin sucks in a breath, then drops to his knees and wraps his arms around me as he kisses my belly over and over again.
Then he looks up at me with a sparkle in his hazel eyes. “Thank you isn’t adequate enough to describe how grateful I’m feeling right now, but thank you for carrying our daughter. My little girl.”
All I can do is nod as tears stream down my face, and for once, I don’t even care. I’m crying because I’m happy. So bone-deeply happy that I’m going to be a mom and give my daughter all the experiences I wish I had with mine.
Quentin stands and pulls me into him, his hand cradling the back of my head as we cling to one another, both of our bodies shaking with our cries.
We pull back slightly, staring at one another with our tear-streaked cheeks.
An overwhelming need envelops me and before I can think twice, my fingers dig into his jaw to bring his lips down to mine, and I kiss Quentin for the first time in five months.
Electric currents ripple through my body at the first press of our lips together, but when I pull back slightly and he roughly pins his lips back onto mine, they set off like sparks.
My hands tangle in his hair as I grip tightly, trying to bring him as close to me as possible. He groans into my mouth and I whimper at the sensation. At how good we move together. How good we are at this.
Quentin bends down, wraps one arm below my ass, and lifts me onto the counter. He pulls me to the edge so that I can wrap my legs around his waist as he continues to devour my mouth with his.
He tugs on my hair, and I slant my neck back as he takes everything he wants with every kiss. It’s the most passionate kiss I’ve ever had.
There’s so much feeling…so much emotion being expressed between every press of our mouths together as we make out for what seems like hours.
We don’t take it any further. We simply revel in our lips on one another, kissing like we’re never going to get the chance to again.
The problem is that my panties are soaked, and as much as I would love for him to fuck me right here on this counter, I know we’ve already gone too far.
Even if this was because of my impulsive decision.
I find the strength to stop kissing him, setting a hand on his chest as I lean back.
We’re both struggling to catch our breaths, and when my eyes connect with his, I nearly lose my willpower. Because he looks like he wants to tear me apart and put me back together, but the issue is, I’d be made for him.
No one else.
I know that if we cross that line, there’s no going back for me. And that scares the hell out of me.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “Raging hormones and the heat of the moment…”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair as he takes a step back. “We shouldn’t go any further.”