Chapter Nine
Ellis
It’s a few days after Christmas, and while I technically don’t have to be at work today, I had to review some final numbers to acquire our next athlete for our UK market.
Most of the other higher-level executives, campaign directors, and account managers are still out of the office, so it’s pretty quiet in the building.
I’m locked into the budget projections, sipping on some chamomile tea, trying to keep my eyes from closing mid-report. I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose as the numbers start to blur into a sea of black and red ink.
Normally, I love deep diving into my work. But today, my focus and energy level are shot.
No matter how hard I try to force my mind back into the reports, my thoughts float to things I need to do to prepare for the baby. And Brody.
It’s been two days since his game, but the crushing loss hasn’t faded in the slightest. The Titans suffered a brutal defeat in the last forty seconds of the fourth quarter.
A forty-two-yard missed field goal in a snowstorm that instantly eliminated them from the postseason, ending their championship run with a single kick.
I watched every second of that game, my fingers clutched so tightly around a linen pillow that my knuckles turned white.
My heart ached every time the camera cut to Brody on the sideline.
He stood in the freezing snow, his helmet held tightly in his gloved hand, his jaw set in a hard line as he watched the game clock run down to zero.
The look in his eyes was cold and heavy with the crushing weight of the loss.
Today is another reminder of that loss. He’s at the team facility having exit meetings and cleaning out his locker. Some of his teammates will be retiring today, and some will get traded before the next season.
I look at my phone to see if he’s texted me yet. He’s supposed to come get me and make dinner at his place tonight, and I figure as soon as he calls, it’ll give me an excuse to head out of the office. I sigh when I still don’t see anything, resting one hand over my belly.
The reality of my pregnancy is no longer something I can hide under clothing.
My body is changing, and soon my family will notice, so I’d better have the baby talk with them in the next few days.
Plus, I’m getting excited about telling people.
It’s no longer a scary thing now that I know he’s healthy.
He. My little guy.
I rub a hand over the bump, and that’s when it happens.
It’s definitely not the indigestion I’ve grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.
It feels like a…flutter. Like butterflies inside my lower abdomen, then a small, barely noticeable pop that makes the air freeze in my throat.
I go completely still. The pen in my other hand slips from my fingers, clattering against the glass top of my desk. I hold my breath, pressing both palms more firmly against the left side of my waist, right below my belly button.
Pop.
Another flutter. This time, there’s no doubt in my mind what this is.
An overwhelming wave of emotion crashes over me so fast and hard that tears instantly well in my eyes. The baby is moving. For the first time, the tiny life growing inside me is making himself known.
My fingers begin to tremble against my shirt, and a blend of awe, happiness, and terrifying vulnerability takes hold of me.
Without thought, I pick up my phone. I don’t think about calling anyone but him.
My thumbs fly over the glass after I unlock my screen.
Ellis: He’s moving. For the first time. I can feel him.
The minute I press send, a slight pang of guilt hits me. Brody is cleaning out his locker, surrounded by disappointed teammates. The last thing he needs is me interrupting his time with them with my news.
I stare at my phone for a second, then start to send a follow-up text telling him not to worry about replying right now. But before I can hit send, my phone vibrates in my palm.
Brody: Are you still at the office?
Ellis: I am. I’m sorry to bother you while you’re trying to take care of what you need to do today. We can talk when you get home.
Brody: I’m already walking to the car. I’ll be there soon. Don’t leave.
I stare at the screen, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face.
About thirty minutes later, which means Brody practically flew across the bridge, I hear the ding of the elevator echo in the empty office space.
A second later, my door swings open, and Brody steps through.
He looks almost out of place in the sterile backdrop of my office.
He’s wearing a dark grey zip-up hoodie over a black fitted T-shirt, athletic pants, and sneakers.
His dark hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it, and he has some stubble along his jawline.
He looks exhausted, if I’m being honest, but the minute his eyes lock onto mine, every ounce of tension vanishes.
“Did you fly here?” I tease, stepping out from behind my desk. “Brody, seriously, how in the hell did you make it here in thirty minutes?”
“I drove on the shoulder when I had to,” he says, shrugging. He doesn’t waste time with small talk. He crosses the office in three long strides, covering the distance between us before I can take my next breath.
He doesn’t speak when he reaches me. He reaches out and frames my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks, then leans in and kisses me.
It’s a quick, sweet kiss, but it completely steals the air from my lungs. When he pulls back, his eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my knees go weak.
“Where?” he asks quietly, his voice tight with urgency. “Where did you feel him?”
I laugh again, wiping a stray tear with the back of my hand. “Come here and sit down.”
I lead him over to the leather sofa along the glass wall of my office. Brody sits, and before I can settle beside him, his hands reach out, catch me by the waist, and he pulls me directly into his lap.
He adjusts my weight effortlessly, positioning me so I’m sitting sideways across his thighs.
“Show me where,” he murmurs, his hands moving directly to my midsection without hesitation.
He smooths one hand along the curve, then takes my hand in his other, guiding my fingers over his and trapping them beneath his broad palm, so we’re linked over my bump.
“Here?” he asks, his face just inches from mine, his breath fanning across my cheek.
“Right here,” I say, moving our hands toward the left. “It felt like a flutter, like butterflies. Like that swoosh you feel in your stomach on a roller coaster.”
Brody goes still, his hand resting gently on my stomach. His eyes drop down to where our hands are joined.
“Come on, little man,” Brody whispers. “Give us a kick.”
We wait a breathless two full minutes. The only sound on the floor is the heat blowing through the vents.
I look at Brody’s profile, admiring how handsome he really is, but also the protectiveness radiating off him. I’ve never had a man, outside my family, treat me like this. It’s different, but I gotta say it feels really nice.
I want him to feel the baby move so badly it hurts. I want to share this moment with him, and give him something good to think about after having a crappy week.
“Maybe he’s asleep now or something,” I say, leaning my head against the side of Brody’s neck, and I can smell the now-familiar scent of cedar and soap that he uses. “I read that they sleep most of the time, especially in the second trimester—”
Before I can finish, a distinct nudge presses against my stomach directly under our joined hands.
It feels a little sharper than the first time I felt it.
Brody sucks in a breath. His chest tight behind me. His fingers press a little more firmly over my waist, but then he stills again.
“Was that…?” he stammers, his head turning to look at me, his eyes wide with awe. “Did you?”
“That’s it!” I laugh out loud. “That’s him kicking!”
A huge smile breaks across his face, so big and bright, and so completely unguarded. He lets out a booming laugh and pulls me in tight against his chest, burying his face into my neck, kissing my cheek, my jaw, my temple.
“Holy shit! He kicked!” Brody laughs, his voice thick with emotion as he holds me securely against him. “He’s got some muscle already.”
“He does,” I laugh softly, turning my face and kissing him.
Suddenly, without a warning knock, the door to my office swings open.
“Ellis, I left those tax filings on your desk, and I need you to review—”
My father’s crisp, authoritative voice cuts off abruptly from the doorway.
I freeze at the sound. Brody pulls away from our kiss, but keeps his arms wrapped around me, over my stomach.
I look over and see my dad, dressed in his three-piece suit, looking overdressed in the nearly empty office. Right behind him, my brother holds a stack of folders under his arm.
My dad looks at me, wrapped in Brody, sitting on his lap, tears running down my face, both of our hands over my belly.
An absolute silence falls over the room.
Bryan’s eyes are wide, and I can tell he’s trying to hold in a laugh. He looks between me, Brody, and our father.
“Oh shit,” Bryan says.
My dad clears his throat, his pulling into a bewildered expression as his gaze flickers between my face and my stomach.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demands, his voice echoing through the room.
I feel Brody’s body go rigid beneath me. For a split second, I worry that this situation could escalate into something bad if I don’t defuse it quickly. Not because I think Brody would do anything, but I want to handle this my way.
I squeeze his hand, and then Brody lets out a breath. His hands don’t drop away from my body, though. Instead, he keeps me firmly against him.
“Dad,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “Why don’t you come in?”
My father stares at me for a few seconds, then without taking his eyes off me, he steps out of the doorway.
Bryan clears his throat but follows my dad into the room. “Maybe I should…”
“Stay, Bryan,” my father commands. He stops a few feet away from us and folds his arms across his chest. “Ellis. Would you like to explain why Brody Vaughn is holding you on your office couch like he’s more than just a brand partner?”
I sit up straighter, though I stay on Brody’s lap. Then I look my father in the eyes, feeling a calm wave settle in my chest. I can’t hide this anymore. It’s time to tell the family.
“Brody is here because our baby just kicked for the first time, Dad,” I say clearly. “And I wanted him here to feel it.”
Bryan coughs and turns his head. He knows Brody isn’t the father, and I’m thankful he didn’t correct me.
But I feel like explaining the real situation would just make this awkward moment more…awkward. So I’ll stick to this for now, explain later, and hope Brody isn’t mad that I called the baby ours.
My father looks a bit frozen, and I notice the color drain from his face. Again, he looks down at my stomach, then at Brody.
“Your…baby?” my father echoes, like he just can’t believe I said it.
“Our baby,” Brody confirms, and I turn to look at him, staring at my dad with zero fear. He shifts and gently helps me off his lap to stand, then he stands next to me. He reaches for my hand and weaves his fingers through mine. “We’re having a baby.”
My father stares at Brody’s hand interwoven with mine. Then he turns and looks at Bryan, who nods once.
For the first time in my life, I see my father completely speechless.
Slowly, the tension in his shoulders breaks. He lets out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well,” my father mutters, shaking his head as his eyes soften. “I guess we’d better get your mother involved.”
Bryan lets out a bark of laughter. “This’ll be fun.”
Brody’s hand tightens around mine, a confident smile breaking across his face. “I’m ready, sir.”
My dad looks between the two of us one more time before spinning on his heel and walking back toward the door. “Clear your schedules for dinner. All of you. Including you, Bryan. I’m going to need a stiff drink and an explanation of how this happened.”
“Dad, I don’t think we want to know how it happened, do we?” Bryan teases.
“Bryan, not now,” my father chides.
My brother looks over his shoulder at me and winks with a devilish smile. “See you later, Els.”
I don’t reply, but I turn to Brody once they’re gone. “Sorry—”
“Nope. Nothing to apologize for.”
“It just kind of slipped out that you were the dad.”
“Listen, Princess, from the very first office visit, when you didn’t correct the nurse when she called me the father—which I thought had a nice ring to it, though a slight surprise—I decided I would be whoever you needed me to be.
I just want to be here with you and this little guy.
And frankly, until now, I didn’t feel like I needed to confirm or deny my title or role in this baby’s life.
That’s completely up to you. So I’ll always follow your lead when it comes to this. ” He rests his palm over my belly.
“Why are you the sweetest?” I lean up on my toes and kiss his lips.
“Because my mother taught me how to treat a woman properly.” He kisses me again.
“Well then, I guess we better get ready for family dinner tonight.”
“I’m ready when you are, but if we don’t have to leave now, let’s lie on this couch a little longer and see if he wants to say hi again.” He smiles, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes, like he just caught the winning touchdown.
Good God. I almost want to call Dylan and thank him for being a douchebag and bailing on my baby. Because seriously, how lucky am I to have this man in my life?
“Okay, Vaughn, let’s see if we can feel the baby again.” I lean up and kiss him one more time, then pull him over to the couch.