Until she just showed up here and devastated my entire life, like a hurricane I never saw coming.
“What the hell is going on?” Walker rushes into the room with a cup of ice chips.
I grab it from him—though it was intended for Frankie—since I now feel like I might bend over and hurl. Throwing a handful in my mouth, I crunch as I try to hang on to my sanity.
“Is she pregnant? That’s your baby, isn’t it? Oh Jesus, Sin.” Walker is rambling, but I can barely hear him over the whooshing in my ears.
Because it just occurred to me.
I am going to be a father.
And out of everything that’s happened in my life, out of everything I’ve done, this is the thing that scares me half to fucking death.
20
Frankie
I have worked my entire career to make it to Packton, Pennsylvania.
And now, all I want to do is turn and run as far in the other direction as I can get.
Sinclair is here. Sinclair is a Callahan. He’s an heir, one of the chosen ones when it comes to the Pistons. There is a reason he never told me his real last name, never took me to his place. There is a reason I barely knew anything about his family.
For the past two days, I’ve been going over all of it again and again. Everything he ever said to me. Any intimate moment we ever shared.
It was all a lie.
Then, he had the balls to accuse me of keeping this pregnancy from him. Or worse, insinuating that it wasn’t his baby, that I’d been with someone else. It made me feel cheap, lower than scum. Which is why I’d slapped him.
When we were together, I was using one of those little circular birth control devices that you pushed up there every month and then changed at the end of the cycle. Clearly, that thing wasn’t effective. Although, I probably shouldn’t have let the guy not use a condom. Or come inside me. It was a dumb thing to do, since they say all birth control methods aren’t completely effective. And I should have known; Sinclair’s sperm were bound to be as charming as the man himself. They probably waltzed right past my birth control with a wave and a smile.
Every time I cradle my bump now, I no longer picture myself and this baby boy against the world. Because this child I’m creating, he’s a Callahan. He’s going to be the son, the grandson, of one of the most famous families in the nation. He’s an heir, and I’m a nobody. Could they take him from me? What will Sinclair want of him? Fifty percent? How the hell will I be away from my child fifty percent of his life? He’s not even born yet, and I can’t fathom letting go of his hand for one second.
The tears rush anew, and I blink them back, trying like hell to keep it together. It’s only my third day of work; I cannot break down in front of Seth, the head strength coach, here in Packton.
“So we have the outfielders coming in later for a leg and back workout. We’re going to need to work with Max, the left fielder, because he’s coming off an Achilles strain. I’d love to hear your ideas for a lower impact workout.” Seth nods to me, and I’m writing notes to let him know I’m listening.
I know he’s testing me, seeing what I can come up with and if my work actually lives up to its reputation. I still have to prove myself every step of the way, and there is that little extra bit of pressure being a woman. Not that Seth has said that, but it’s just innate. Now that I’m pregnant, I feel even more weight on my shoulders—and my abdomen, literally. These players are going to walk into the weight room and see some knocked-up woman and think I’m weak or motherly.
No, fellas, I can still whip your asses into shape like the best of ’em.
“I’ll get you a full plan by the end of the day,” I tell him as if it’s no big deal.
“Good. And then let me see your typical nutrition plan for the pitching core. I like to switch up their diets if they’re in a slump, and work with the nutritionist to really maximize their nutrients.”
My head is bobbing constantly in a nod. It’ll be a big workload, moving up to this level, but I’m so excited for it. This is what I live for.
“Hey, Seth, how’s it goin’?” Sinclair walks into the weight room, tipping his chin up in that manly way of greeting at my boss.
My heart stammers to a full halt in my chest, and sweat pools under my boobs. As if I’m not always having hot flashes with this baby in my belly, but now he has to walk into rooms unexpectedly. Inside me, baby boy jumps at the sound of his father’s voice, I swear he does. He just started kicking hard enough that I can feel him throughout the day, and he’s showing off for his father. I grimace in annoyance.
“Sinclair, hey, good. Didn’t know you were back.” I can hear a bit of professional ice in Seth’s voice that wasn’t there a moment ago.
I wonder how the employees of the Packton Pistons view the heirs apparent. Judging by the tinge of cold in my boss’s voice, not highly.
“Yep. Working over in the marketing department. Just entry-level stuff, but it’s keeping me busy seven days a week.”
I don’t miss the surprise that registers on Seth’s face. “That’s … great.”
“Mind if I borrow Francesca for a second?”
My face heats with embarrassment. It’s awkward to have him talk to my boss as if it’s his decision to make if I talk to him or not.
“Uh, sure.” Seth looks even more surprised that I, the new girl in town, know one of the Callahan elite.
Sinclair stands there awkwardly, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. So Seth stands, asking me if I’d like a water because he’s going to grab a coffee.
“That would be great, thank you.” I smile my best even-tempered, cool employee-smile.
The minute he’s gone, Sinclair is blurting everything out.
“How are you today? How is the baby? I’m sorry about how we left things the other day. It was wrong of me to say those things to you. I know you aren’t like that, I was just so completely shocked when I saw you, when I saw that you were pregnant, and here …”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that.” I feel empty and so full of every emotion at the same time that it feels like I’ve blown a few fuses.
Sinclair ricochets back, as if my unenthusiastic response was the opposite of what he was expecting.
“I want us to talk about this. I mean, fuck, there is a hell of a lot for us to talk about. We have … I know now that this is my baby.”
He points to my belly, and I feel myself duck my shoulders in and try to retreat. The thoughts about custody and my baby being jerked around by the Callahans invade my brain again.
“I don’t even know who you are. Everything you told me in Florida was a complete lie.” My voice is broken.
It doesn’t help that I’ve been crying for two days. Well, at least when I don’t have to pull it together for work. At the stadium that his family fucking owns. God, I feel like such an idiot.
For the last forty-eight hours, I’ve not only been playing over in my head all of the things Sinclair told me that were probably lies. But I’ve been playing over my own words. How many times did I say something about the Callahans that I never would have said if I knew he was one of them? How many things had I told him, about people with money or something random, that I never would have divulged had I known he was filthy rich?