Chapter 16
Teagan
My morning training session with the seniors finished an hour ago, and I’ve yet to get up from my chair in my office.
I intended to get work on my training plans for my classes, but Blueberry has other ideas, because all I can do is yawn and kick my feet up.
Pregnancy fatigue in the first trimester is no joke, because I swear I’ve never been so exhausted in my entire life.
It makes sense why I was feeling so tired a few weeks ago.
I thought it was just work catching up with me, but now I’m thinking that it’s been Blueberry this entire time.
It’s already been a week since I gave Quentin the news. There’s so much to decide together, but for right now, I’m taking things one thing at a time. We have our first appointment today and I’m feeling excited to see Blueberry again.
I must drift off a bit because when there’s a knock on my door, my eyes shoot open and I nearly jump out of my seat.
“Teagan?” Quentin’s voice calls out from the entryway.
Before I can even answer him, he’s crouching down to be eye level with me as his hand brushes a lock of hair out of my face, staring at me with concern.
My body that was once tired is now suddenly alert when I process how close his face is to mine. I suck in a breath quietly, all too aware of how his fingers brushing against my cheek are making my body flush.
I pull my head away from him as I lean over to my desk and grab my purse. “I fell asleep, that’s all. We can get going.”
Quentin insisted on picking me up today for my nine-week ultrasound and the results of the paternity test. I wanted to reassure him after what he shared with me at dinner that night, so we went to the clinic earlier this week to do the test.
I argued with him all day yesterday, though, about picking me up, but he was persistent and I was exhausted, so I gave in. The guy’s been texting me every day since he found out I was pregnant, always asking if I’m okay, if I’ve eaten, or if there’s anything I need.
It’s nice, but it’s overwhelming at the same time.
I’m not used to having someone check in on me like this all the time, so it’s different for me to have to update someone constantly.
I’ve been honest with him that I haven’t been eating a whole lot due to my nausea lately, which is part of the reason why he wanted to drive so badly today.
I stand. My vision wavers for a moment, and before I know what’s happening, Quentin has one hand wrapped around my arm and the other on my hip. My eyes shoot up to his, my breath hitching in my throat at the proximity.
This always happens if I stand up too quickly, and it doesn’t help that I haven’t eaten much these past few days because of this constant stupid nausea. God, I hope it gets better after I’m past this first trimester.
“Okay, you need to sit down,” he demands, yet his eyes give away the panic he’s feeling.
I shake him off and stand up straight. “I’m fine. I think I got up too fast, that’s all. Let’s go.”
“Teagan,” he admonishes with a groan as he follows me out of my office.
I turn around to face him, crossing my arms under my chest. “Yes?”
“You need to be more careful. What if you had fallen over or something?”
My shoulders lift in a shrug. “That didn’t happen, so let’s not focus on the negatives. Am I right?”
He gives me a deadpan look. “Not funny,” he grumbles.
With a sigh, I give him a pat on the shoulder for reassurance.
“Look, baby daddy. I’m a renowned world champion.
I’ve pushed my body to limits most athletes can’t even reach, and I’ve taken care of myself my entire life.
I’m simply tired and stood up too fast. Of course Blueberry’s safety is important to me.
Hell, I’ve stopped my skills training because of it.
But I’m not going to walk around on eggshells. I’m pregnant, not dying.”
“I’m sorry,” Quentin says on a swallow. “I can be…protective.”
I chuckle at that. “You think?”
“Sometimes it can be a lot, but when I care about someone, I’m all in. I’ll try not to act like you’re too fragile to do anything, but I won’t stop worrying,” he says with finality, a brisk tone to his voice that sends a shiver down my spine.
“I appreciate that. Now let’s go check on our little Blueberry,” I say with a smile, trying to get the sad puppy dog look off his face.
It works marginally, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he falls into step with me. We walk in what I think is a comfortable silence through campus. I’m not worried about anyone seeing us, as there is a confidentiality clause for anyone who works or attends school here.
We’re nearly out of the building when we run into Nicole Walsh.
I usually bump into the golfer after my morning class every day where we chat for a few minutes before we’re off to our next class.
I wouldn’t say we’re friends necessarily, but it’s nice to talk to someone who gets what it’s like to be freshly retired.
Even if I’m just pretending to be.
“Hey, Teagan.” She smiles at me, then shifts her gaze to Quentin with a raised brow, a look of interest on her face. “Who’s this?”
I’m about to answer when a loud cackle leaves her mouth. She slaps a hand on his shoulder, as if they’re long-lost friends. “I’m joking. Of course I’m aware of who the number one pitcher in the country is. It’s nice to officially meet you, Quentin. I’m Nicole and a huge fan.”
Something thick and heavy wraps around my chest as I watch the interaction, the feeling akin to annoyance.
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you,” he says kindly, his gaze not at all how he looked at me that night at the bar. All I see is a polite smile, and I chide myself for feeling victorious.
“The pleasure is all mine,” She winks, giving me the sudden urge to claw her eyes out. Because while I want nothing to do with the man other than co-parent together, I don’t want Blueberry to have a stepmom so soon.
“We have to get going,” I cut in, doing my best to give her a smile that is believable, but also not really caring if it isn’t.
We’re nearly to my car when Quentin chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, coming to a stop.
“You.” He smirks as he slows down next to me. “She’s married.”
“That matters because?” I grumble, annoyed at where I know this is going.
“You were jealous.”
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t jealous. I’d just rather not involve someone else in our situation right now.”
“Are you asking me to be exclusively single?” he clarifies with one brow raised.
“I’m so glad you’re not just pretty,” I quip, using humor to get off the fact that I might have indeed been a tad jealous. “But yes, I think for the time being, both of us should avoid dating. Other people and each other.”
I don’t wait to see his reaction to that, turning on my heel and toward his car.
That urge to run is present, making me want to avoid talking about something I know we should be talking about. Especially with the memory his car brings hitting me like a pound of bricks as I approach it.
I go to open the passenger door, when he slams it closed. I twist to look at him, and notice that his hand is still on the window, allowing him to lean over me.
“Can I get in the car?”
“If this is going to work between us, then we need to be able to communicate. Talk to me and tell me why you said that,” he demands softly.
My brain struggles to function when he’s leaning over me like this, so I step out from under him.
“We briefly talked about this at dinner, but I want what’s best for our baby.
I don’t want things to get complicated and ruin our chance at a family.
Besides, the last thing I want is someone being with me because of pity or a sense of obligation.
We don’t know each other. Hell, we could hate each other and we don’t even know it yet. ”
“We seemed to fuck pretty well, so I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting along,” he says in this deep yet smooth voice that makes my nipples stiffen. Usually, I’m the one who says bold shit, and every time he gives it back to me, it draws me to him.
I rub my barely there belly over my sweater. “Clearly. Now, can I open my door so we can get going, please?”
“Ask and you shall receive,” he teases as he opens the door and I shake my head as I pass him. Of course he’d open it for me instead.
I curse under my breath before he gets in the car because my baby daddy happens to be the hottest man alive. Plus, he’s got a personality that I don’t entirely loathe. It’s a jarring mix, and I need to keep my head on straight. I have goals, not only for the baby but for me.
“I think we need rules,” I say, needing clear boundaries.
“I agree. Let’s make a co-parenting pact,” he suggests.
“To start, no holding hands or touching in general. Exceptions will be made if you’d like to touch my belly,” I begin, knowing that touch is going to be important for him as he begins to bond with the baby from the outside.
“Sounds fair,” he replies with ease and adds, “I’d like that we be in contact daily as best as we can.
Since we’re both busy with our jobs and don’t live together, I’d like to know that you’re both doing well or any updates you have.
And I want to be aware of every appointment, because I’m going to do my best to be there. ”
“I can do that. And rule number three, we make decisions for the baby together. Where they will go to school, how we’re going to split holidays, all that kind of stuff.”
“Makes sense. Anything else?”
I tap my fingers against my chin in thought. “Nope, not that I can think of.”
“That was fairly easy,” he remarks as he starts the car.
“No one’s ever considered me easy to deal with,” I chirp playfully, happy that we set ground rules.
Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting a man distract me.
Especially one who is officially off-limits.