Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Callie
Foster demanded that he come pick me up rather than meeting at the doctor’s office, so when there’s a knock on the door, I grab my purse. I swing the door open, and there he stands in the hallway of my apartment, but his head is turned, staring to his right.
“Hey.” I peek my head out the door to see what’s caught his interest.
Jerry is staring back at Foster as he inserts a key into the lock of my neighbor’s door.
Jerry is probably a little intimidated that Foster Davis is at my doorstep.
Foster turns to face me, and his blue eyes leave me speechless as they often do. “The door downstairs wasn’t locked.” He steps inside my apartment, leaving me no choice but to back up and allow him to invade my personal space.
“Come in, I guess…” I’m not sure why we’re both not on the other side of the door.
“Callie!” Jerry calls, pulling me away from thinking that I should’ve cleaned up my apartment this morning.
I turn toward the open door to find Jerry standing in my doorway.
Here we go. He’s probably going to fawn over Foster and ask me about tickets again. Not anything I’m in the mood for right now.
“Are you headed out?” Jerry glances over my shoulder.
“Yeah. Just for an hour or two.”
Jerry glances at Foster again, whose chest is now pressed to my back, staring down Jerry over my shoulder. What the hell is his bodyguard behavior about?
“Oh good. I can look at that bathroom fan issue while you’re out.”
“Oh, Jerry, that’s not me. I think you’re confusing me with someone else in the building again.”
He pulls out his phone and scrolls on the screen for a moment. Then he glances back at Foster, who I’m pretty sure is going to knock me down because he’s even closer to me now. He’s acting like a guard dog ready to attack.
“Oh, I thought for sure it was you.”
“You’re the landlord?” Foster’s voice is gruff with a bite to it.
What am I missing here?
“That’s me, Jerry. Foster Davis, right?” Jerry steps into the apartment, his hand extended. Foster winds around me, putting me behind him, but at least finds some manners and shakes his hand. “I’m a big fan of yours.”
“Thanks.” Foster doesn’t sound any more friendly than earlier.
Jerry’s lips thin, and his body stiffens. I glance to where their hands are joined, noticing that Jerry’s knuckles are white.
I push Foster’s side. “Anyway, we need to get going. Hope you figure out which person needs their bathroom fan fixed.”
Foster steps toward the door, giving Jerry no choice but to blindly back up into the hallway. Finally, we’re all outside the apartment, and I lock my door, then say goodbye to Jerry.
“It was great meeting you, Foster, or do I call you Reaper?”
Oh, Jerry, quit while you’re ahead.
“Foster’s fine,” he grumbles.
Foster waits at the top of the stairs for me to go down first, and he places his hand on the small of my back as if we’re a couple. “I got us a car.”
He takes one more glance over his shoulder before we exit the building. He stops and turns around. Jerry is at the top of the stairs, watching us.
“Maybe forget the bathroom fan and fix this door,” Foster says. “I shouldn’t have been able to just walk in. The residents’ safety is your responsibility.”
Jerry’s face turns red, looking struck. “I’ll get on it.”
I peek my head around Foster’s arm. “Thank you, Jerry.” I tug at Foster’s sleeve. “We’re going to get going now. Bye.”
I drag Foster out of the vestibule, and when we get onto the sidewalk, I release him. “What’s with the bodyguard act?”
“I don’t like him. He was coming out of that apartment next to you. He didn’t say anything to me. The door to the outside was unlocked.” He stares at the building as if he’s a building inspector and is about to slap a red sticker on it that says CONDEMNED. “I thought your podcast was doing well?”
I stop beside the car he led me to before climbing in. “Are you judging where I live?”
“I just think you can afford somewhere that makes safety a higher priority.”
I place my hand on his chest and laugh. “Let’s remember our roles here, Foster. You’re the baby daddy, not my keeper.”
I climb into the car and get situated as he slides in beside me. Thank God there’s more than enough space, and we’re on separate sides of the SUV. The driver pulls into the traffic with the address already in his GPS.
“You’re wrong. You’re the mother of my child, so your safety is my concern. I don’t like Jerry, and I don’t like the apartment.”
I laugh bitterly. “Well then, let me just move out.” I glare at him, hoping he catches my sarcasm, but he’s still brooding, holding my gaze in a stare down. “Jerry is harmless. He keeps forgetting which tenant needs help, and I’m sure after your mafia boss performance, he’ll get right on the door.”
“I guess we’ll see when we get back.”
“I’ll see because I can get myself home after the appointment.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t, but I’ll be taking you home after.”
I swivel in my seat to face him and cross my arms. “It’s funny, you know. The gossip blogs all say you’re not a gentleman, so I’m not sure why I’m getting such special treatment, but I can assure you I’m a big girl who can take care of herself.”
I’m not sure how to describe the feeling swimming around inside me from him being so protective. Shock isn’t even the word I’d use to describe how I felt when he was all in on the pregnancy, and now this whole act as if he’s going to put me in a bubble until I deliver his baby.
Foster doesn’t talk the rest of the trip, as if what he says goes. He’s in for a rude awakening. We arrive at the doctor’s building, and he tells the driver he’ll text him when we’re done.
“I can walk home.” I don’t wait for him to answer, heading toward the building.
“Is this doctor any good?” he asks, reaching for the door handle before I can get it, which means his chest is once again pressed to my back.
“No, I picked her because her reviews are subpar. Figured I wanted to give her a chance to redeem herself.” I step into the medical building. “This is the doctor the Falcon wives go to. I used to go to my doctor closer to my mom and dad, but I figured I needed someone in the city.”
“If the Falcons trust her with their wives, then I suppose we can trust her.”
I stare at him blankly as we wait for the elevator. He’s standing so close to me, as if he’s afraid I’m going to disappear.
I sniff his cologne. I don’t know why. Maybe because it smells so damn good.
Shaking it off, I turn to face him. “Okay, you’re scaring me. What’s with this?” I motion with my hand down his body.
He glances down. “What?”
“You being so protective of me. Where I live? Hiring me a car? Judging the doctor I picked?”
Foster shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jacket, and his gaze falls to my stomach. I think I get it now. He can’t control any of this, but he can make sure I’m safe and, as a result of that, so is his child. I feel a little enamored by it if I’m honest.
I sigh. “Let me put you at ease—I’m as invested in this little one as you. I’m going to protect it too.”
The elevator doors open, and I step in without waiting for him to respond. I press the button for the fifteenth floor. He leans his back against the elevator wall and watches the numbers rise as we ride up in silence.
I have no idea what’s going on in his head or how we’re going to navigate this as we move forward. After we confirm that this pregnancy is healthy and happening, we’re supposed to tell Hayes.
Which will make my life easier, but it’s also hard to process this new normal that will be my life.
Raising a child with Foster Davis, the bad boy of baseball, the man who I’m pretty sure has never had a steady girlfriend.
The hothead, the one who can’t control his temper on the mound.
This man is a part of my life forever now. It all seems surreal.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. We head down the hallway, following signs to the doctor’s office. When we step inside the office, everyone’s attention turns in our direction. Most of the women have swollen bellies, and there’re only a scattering of men accompanying the women.
I ignore them all and head over to the receptionist.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Hi. Callie Carlisle. I have an appointment with Dr. Amato.”
She glances at Foster, who’s acting as if we’re velcroed together, and tilts her head, but then smiles.
How did I not think about Foster being recognized?
“Okay, thank you for doing the pre-check-in, and I show you have a forty-five-dollar co-pay.” She holds out the payment processor.
I open my purse, but Foster pulls out his credit card and taps it on the keypad. I balk at him, but he doesn’t grant me even a glance, tucking his card back in his wallet as if it’s normal for him to be paying for things for me.
We really need to talk about this whole “I’m his to protect” thing he’s got going on right now.
“Great. Here’s your receipt, and have a seat. The nurse will call you back in a little bit.”
Foster hands me the piece of paper.
“It’s yours,” I say softly.
“Use it for your flex spending.” He pushes it between us again, leaving me no choice but to take it unless I want to make a scene.
“But…” I hold it limply as he walks away from me and sits in one of the two chairs in the corner, behind a large potted plant.
I’m baffled that Foster Davis knows about flex spending like some middle-aged dad who budgets and tracks his spending.
I sit next to him, crossing my legs. He leans back, manspreading. I don’t look, but I can feel a lot of eyes on us. It’s either because he’s Foster Davis, or it’s his neck tattoos and the fact that he’s hot. Probably both.
The only thing we have going for us is the fact that the Colts haven’t had any stellar years lately where people recognize the players more, but Foster has a distinct look.
“Where do you want to go to lunch?” he asks, picking up a magazine and flipping through it, but he tosses it back on the table without reading any of it.
“What is going on right now?” I whisper, leaning in close.
He turns to face me, and we’re so close, I draw back. It feels way too intimate.
“You need to eat, and I’m hungry. Plus…” He scans the room, probably judging who is listening to us, who is slyly trying to take a picture. This could be bad if anyone here leaks that Foster Davis was in an OBGYN office with a woman. “We need to get to know one another better.”
“We need to get to know one another better?” I repeat what he said, hoping it makes more sense when I hear it from my own lips.
He chuckles. It always throws me when he laughs because it happens so rarely. He’s so grumpy and brooding and matter-of-fact that it’s weird when he’s enjoying himself. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me.”
A weird sensation ignites in my stomach, and I realize I may have grossly underestimated Foster. What if he’s just succumbed to being the person everyone believes he is?
Then again, how many times has a man fooled me before?
How many times did I swear an asshole wasn’t an asshole only to get burned in the end?
There’s no way I can try to figure out Foster and protect our baby.
If their mom is heartbroken from thinking she saw something different than what everyone sees in their dad, that’s not protecting them.
It’s safer if we just stick to co-parenting.
“Callie?” a nurse calls.
“Here!” I bolt up out of my seat.
The sooner I’m in that room, the sooner I stop imagining that there’s a different man under the tattoos and hard exterior. Because imagining is exactly how I’ll end up hurt.