CHAPTER 49 Sophie Summers
Large Fries
I take Cassie’s kids supply shopping, and apparently kids are better behaved for people who aren’t their mom. I have a great time with the kids, and Luca ends up with everything Minecraft while Lily ends up with cute little Squishmallow things for the upcoming school year.
Miller is busy all week with various workouts and meetings, but he’s been better about communicating, at least. We do dinners together, and things mostly seem to be back on track. He’s back to being the book boyfriend of my dreams…for the most part.
There’s just one big problem.
Neither one of us has addressed the rather large elephant in the room.
It’s sometimes all I think about, and other times I’m able to push it out of my thoughts so I can focus.
I’m almost finished writing the first draft of my next book, which is perfect timing since advance copies of my new release are going out Monday—the same day Miller starts training camp, and then the marketing for the new release begins, and I won’t have as much time and energy to focus on getting new words when I’m in marketing mode.
Except Miller won’t be here. I won’t have anything else to focus on, and I’ll be going stir-crazy as I wait to get my period or miss my period or figure out when I can take a test to find out if that broken condom actually means anything at all for our future.
And even if I do find out either way…when do I tell him?
A negative is easy. I can do that over the phone. Over text, even.
But a positive?
I have no idea how to handle it.
So I count the days and wait for my period to come, trying my best to put the whole idea out of my head even as I stand at the grocery store staring at the different pregnancy test options on a Thursday afternoon by myself.
I should buy one. Right? I should have one at home for when I’m ready to take it. This box says it has results six days sooner. That test says it’s ninety-nine percent accurate. That one has a line. That one has a digital screen that says pregnant or not pregnant .
And it’s as I’m standing in the aisle at the grocery store staring at pregnancy tests on a Thursday morning that I hear my name.
“Sophie?”
I turn and gasp. “Cassie! What are you doing here?”
“Uh, shopping,” she says, nodding to her cart. “What are you doing?”
I glance at the row of pregnancy tests in front of me, and my eyes widen as I suddenly feel very caught. “Um…” I trail off, and I grab a box of condoms. “Fresh out,” I say, holding up the box with a cheesy smile that I hope is good enough to pass the test .
It has to be good enough. I already know Cassie can’t keep a secret, as proven on the cruise, and I don’t need her spreading the news all over town that Sophie was shopping for pregnancy tests at the grocery store.
I should’ve ordered these online. Doing this in person in a store when I’m with someone as high profile as a pro football player was a dumb move—and that’s without thinking I might run into someone I know. Someone who can’t keep secrets.
My act must be good enough to pass the test because she starts with casual conversation. “The kids can’t stop talking about their shopping and lunch date with Aunt Sophie. They want you to take them to lunch again.”
I laugh. “It’s because I let them both order large fries at McDonald’s. They said you never let them.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Yeah, maybe on second thought we shouldn’t do that again.” She giggles to let me know she’s just kidding, but it still pulses a thought inside me that was never there before.
Should I not have given two kids large fries?
I don’t know how kids eat. They wanted fries, so I got them fries. I guess logically, I know fries aren’t healthy, but I also know kids can be picky eaters, and I didn’t want to bring them back home to Cassie hungry.
The more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t know anything at all about kids. It’s not just their eating habits—it’s everything.
I didn’t have baby cousins I took care of when I was little. Instead, I was the youngest.
I didn’t take up babysitting when I was an adolescent. I didn’t even read the popular books about babysitting when I was that age, instead opting for semi-age-appropriate books that introduced me to my love of romance .
I really didn’t even have many friends who had kids before me. I was busy between teaching and secretly publishing books, and I had a boyfriend. I didn’t make much space for friends who were in a totally different phase of life than me.
But standing here in this aisle with my potential future sister-in-law staring at me as I stand in front of a variety of different tests makes me realize how incredibly unprepared I am for any of this.
And I don’t even have the luxury of leaning on my boyfriend since he’s about to dig into a new season, and we’re going to have to spend time apart.
I suddenly feel a little lonely and a lot scared.
I think about confiding all this in Cassie, but ultimately, I realize her allegiance is to Tanner, not to me. She’s married to him now, and he’s a twin. Word will get back to Miller through some other source, and if I’m feeling these feelings, he should hear it from me.
I just don’t want to pile on top of him when he’s already going through his own stuff with the start of the season. I want to try to be there for him the best way I can, only…I have no idea what that looks like right now, either.
There’s just a lot of uncertainty in my life right now, and I guess all I can do is ride the wave until things settle down.
I just don’t know when that will be.
It’s not in the next few days, that’s for sure.
Training camp is here in San Diego. The team uses the stadium for practice, but the first week is meant for team bonding, so barring emergencies, players are asked to stay at the team hotel for the first two weeks of training camp.
Then they return home, and they start regular practices that aren’t quite as intense as those first two weeks of camp. That’s also when preseason games begin and the roster is finalized.
It’ll be an intense couple of weeks for Miller and the rest of his teammates, and I already sense a bit of a change in him as he packs his bags the Sunday night before camp is set to start.
I’m sitting on the bed in his room while he works. I’ve asked if there’s anything I can do, and his request was just to sit with him while he does what he needs to do.
It’s like he wants us to spend every last moment together that we can before this shift in our relationship.
“I’ll try to call you every day, but things get pretty intense,” he says.
I nod as I try to be as understanding as possible. I can’t imagine a job that’s so intense that I can’t make time for a one-minute phone call, but I let it go.
“If you remember, drag the black trash to the curb on Mondays. Organic is collected on Tuesdays, and recycling is every other Wednesday,” he reminds me.
I nod. “Anything else around the house you want me to take care of?”
He shakes his head. “The pool pretty much takes care of itself, but my guy is scheduled for the first week of next month for monthly maintenance. The landscapers will be here on Thursday as usual, and I called a house cleaner one of my teammates recommended to come in weekly on Thursday mornings so it’s all done at the same time. ”
“You didn’t have to do that. I can clean.” My protest is weak since—let’s be honest—having someone clean the house sounds like a dream.
“I know, but I want you to have that time for writing.”
I press my lips together and tilt my head. “That’s really sweet of you. Thank you.”
He nods without looking up from his pile of clothes. He counts everything out, and then he mutters, “Fuck it,” as if he’s not really all that worried about what he’s packing. I’m sure they have laundry access anyway since they’re gone two weeks.
He sits beside me, and he sighs. “This is weird. I’ve never had to leave you as my…whatever this is…when I’m starting a new season.”
“I was just thinking that, too. And to fill in the blank, you could say girlfriend. Fiancée. Lover.”
He laughs. “I like lover . That’s how I’ll refer to you. Surely they’ll ask questions on media day. Who’d you leave behind at home? Oh, me? Just my lover .”
I giggle, but the truth is that the giggle is hiding a deeper fear.
Will he be able to say the same thing next season when he’s asked that question? Or will his answer be different? He’s leaving his wife behind. And his baby .
And we’re talking about what days the trash is collected instead of any of that.
It’s just because he’s focused on the season. He should be. And I should be focused on my book coming out in a couple weeks.
I’m not.
We have sex, and I force myself to be present in the moment. To concentrate on every caress of his fingers, every slide of his tongue wherever it lands, every thrust of his hips into me.
It’s the last time we’ll get to do this for the next two weeks, so I memorize every second of it.
And when it’s over, and I’m lying in his arms warm and sated, I memorize those moments, too. The way he smells, the way he feels, the warmth he exudes.
I hold onto those feelings as tightly as I can.
After we kiss goodbye in the morning, and I wave to him as he pulls away for the next two weeks, I can’t help but burst into tears as I wonder whether life will be any different when he returns home to me.