Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Foster
It’s as though my mind can’t filter my thoughts before they come out of my mouth when I’m around Callie.
Telling her that I don’t want any baseball stuff is just waving another red flag in front of her. She didn’t push me this time though. She let it go, but I need to be prepared that she’ll ask me again.
We ate at a small Mexican restaurant that makes their own tortillas. I’ll definitely be back. The place was phenomenal.
Now we’re walking back to the condo, but she stops outside a white building that has big green letters saying The Last Chapter Book Shop.
“Want to do the very cliché thing of buying baby name books so we can each highlight our favorites and compare?” The way her entire face lights up, there’s no chance I can say no.
“Only for you.”
Her smile grows, and she preens before moving toward the door. I reach around her, opening the door for her to walk in.
“It’s adorable.” She moves to a display table, perusing the books there.
I’ve never been much of a reader. It wasn’t like my dad ever pushed me to be. Not even an inspirational athlete’s story. Academics were always secondary to baseball. Hell, everything was secondary to baseball.
“Hi, welcome to The Last Chapter.” An olive skinned woman with long dark hair and glasses greets us from where she’s shelving some books.
“Hi.” I follow Callie around as she says, “We’re looking for baby name books.” She runs her hands over her baby bump as though the woman wouldn’t have noticed that she’s pregnant.
“Oh, I’m sorry, this is a romance-only bookstore.”
“Romance only?” Callie asks and glances at me. “I didn’t realize there was even such a thing. Thanks, we’ll look around.”
“If you have any questions or want any suggestions, my name is Amanda.” She turns to me. “Sports romance is over there.” She points.
Callie turns toward the wall, where what looks like all the categories of romance are highlighted. She looks as though she’s trying to decide where to start. “Thanks. This is so fun.”
I decide to head to the sports section, figuring I’ll buy myself some time until she’s done.
“Don’t go falling for some fictional man when you have me at home,” I say to her.
She waves me off and ventures down the row.
The door to the store opens. I turn to look and am shocked to see Conor Nilsen with his wife, Eloise, walking through the door.
Shit, I thought Callie’s stomach was growing. Eloise looks ready to pop.
“Eloise!” Amanda walks over, and the two of them hug as best as they’re able to with her stomach.
Conor stares after his wife but catches me watching and laughs. “Shit, what are the chances?” He comes over and puts out his hand.
“Enjoying off season?” I ask as we shake hands.
“Getting some reading material since Eloise just got put on bedrest until the baby comes. This is her happy place, so here we are before we head back home.” He pats me on the back and glances at the sports romance shelf I was looking at. “Didn’t figure you for a romance reader.”
“No. My…” I have no label for Callie. Baby momma makes me want to throw up. Friend isn’t nearly accurate enough.
Conor must realize my hesitation because he laughs again. “Carlisle’s sister, right?”
I nod, thankful for the out. “She’s back there somewhere.” I thumb in the direction Callie disappeared.
“Piece of advice? Don’t get all jealous of her falling for some book boyfriend. If the book is good enough, you’ll reap the benefits.” He winks, and I huff out a laugh.
Conor and all the Falcons are cool. Sometimes at Peeper’s, we all end up in the backroom together, and it’s usually a lot of fun.
From what Hayes told me, Hayes, Decker, and Easton came into the building after Conor, Tweetie, and Rowan moved out.
All three of the hockey players bought houses on the same street as Henry Hensley, and the four of them are raising their families together as neighbors.
I can’t even imagine being that close with my teammates.
“I hope you’re not thinking you’ll find a baseball book up here.” He points toward the wall.
I turn to inspect all the covers, realizing quickly that the majority of them have hockey players on them. One after the other—hockey, hockey, hockey. Puck this and puck that.
“What the hell?” I raise my hand. “Hey Amanda, can you come here for a second?”
Conor laughs and crosses his arms, settling in. Amanda walks over, and Eloise follows. Conor gives a brief introduction between his wife and me.
“You here by yourself or with someone?” Eloise looks around, and her eyes light up when she sees Callie walking around the end of the row. “Callie!”
Guess they’ve met before.
Then she’s gone.
Amanda looks at Conor first. “Hey, Conor. Sorry, no book has been fan-fictioned off of you yet that I know of.”
“I heard Piper Rayne might be writing one.” He shrugs.
“I’ll keep my eyes out.” She shakes her head, and I get the feeling this is a conversation they’ve had before.
“Look for Mr. Swoony. I think the title fits me. Right, Lulu? Me as Mr. Swoony?” Conor calls to Eloise, and she smiles, but it’s appeasing.
“Amanda, are you hiding the baseball books in the back or something?” I scour the covers, and hockey outnumbers baseball twenty to one. There are even more football books than baseball ones.
She cringes. “I’m sorry, hockey is really big in sports romance.”
“Why?”
Conor’s eyebrows rise. “Do you really have to ask? We have to chase a little black puck around with a stick while we’re on skates and our opponents try to slam us into the boards. What’s the most you guys get—a pinkie sprain or a calf pull?”
I tilt my head. “First of all, look at me. I look a helluva lot tougher than you.”
“Why, because you have neck tattoos?”
I purposely position my head so I’m staring down at him. “I’ve got you by a few inches.”
“I don’t think this is a competition,” Amanda says. “If they write ’em and they sell, I’ll stock ’em.”
“You can’t blame her because the romance girlies don’t want to read about your lame-ass baseball players,” Conor says.
“Sure, they’d rather read about a bunch of goons throwing punches on the ice.” I roll my eyes.
“What’s going on over here?” Callie comes over with Eloise, and both have a stack of books in their hands.
Conor and I reach to take the books from them and are met with a scowl and a look that says I am perfectly capable of holding a few books.
Callie looks between the three of us. “Are you guys bothering poor Amanda?”
Eloise looks at Amanda, “Sorry if their egos get out of hand.”
“Look at the wall and tell me what’s wrong with this picture?” I say to Callie, motioning with my hand up and down the wall.
Callie slides between us and inspects it, picking up a hockey romance called Faking it with #41. “Oh, this looks—”
I swipe it out of her hands and put it back on the shelf.
Conor cracks up laughing.
“I can’t read that one?” Callie arches an eyebrow.
“You should let her, then she can be thinking about a hockey player when—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” I point at Conor.
He just laughs harder. “You are too easy to rile up.”
“Leave him alone.” Eloise shakes her head at her husband. “If it helps, his ego soared to new heights the first time I took him to a bookstore, and he realized that hockey heroes are a big thing in romance. I’m really the one to blame.”
“I’m going home to email every romance author I can find online and ask them to write a baseball hero.” I frown.
“Oh, here’s one!” Callie picks a book up off the shelf. “The Hotshot. Can I buy this one?”
Conor’s eyebrows rise, and I groan.
“Buy whatever you want,” I grumble.
Callie reads the back of the book and puts it back. “Never mind, it sounds too much like Hayes and Leighton’s story. I’m gonna stick to these Eloise recommended.”
Both women accompany Amanda to the checkout while Conor and I hang back.
“Holding up okay? How far along are you guys?” he asks.
Is this what happens these days? People talk about pregnancy as a we thing?
“Eighteen weeks.”
“Wait until after twenty, that’s when the shit gets real. But it’s great. When you feel the baby move… it’s unreal.”
His face is so bright with happiness that it makes me excited for what’s coming. The only difference is that Eloise is his wife, and Callie isn’t my… anything really. The baby coming brings a finality to what we have. It’s very different from what Conor has.
I look at Callie laughing with Eloise and Amanda, picking up bookmarks and completely enthralled with this store we stumbled upon, and all I can think is that I don’t ever want to let her go.
Sure, she’ll always be the mother of my child, but that’s not the same as what we have now. And though I can’t tell her… I really like what we have.