“Hey, babe! How’d it go?” Georgia chirps on the other end.
“Good, I guess. The doctor said everything seems normal.”
“Oh, that’s a relief. This whole thing is crazy. How are you even pregnant?”
“Well . . .” I want to crack a joke about the birds and the bees, but I’m feeling uninspired. I can only joke to a certain extent when my reality is . . . this.
“I just can’t believe you’re going to have a baby,” Georgia says, her voice almost a little sad.
My chest clenches painfully. Will things change between us once there’s a kid involved?
“I know, me neither.” I close my eyes tightly, praying that our friendship won’t be affected by my new reality.
“Well, thanks for calling, babe. Keep me updated, okay?”
I sigh, a little relieved, and also a little surprised that she’s cutting the call so short. But she seemed interested, so she’s still invested, and that feels like a good sign to me.
“Of course.”
We say our good-byes and I roll over on the bed, scrolling for the next contact on my list.
“Hey,” Grant says, his voice rumbling pleasantly in my ear.
“Hi there,” I say, pretending not to notice the way my heart skips a beat when he speaks.
“What did the doctor say?”
Ah, straight to business.
“That I’m definitely pregnant. And everything looks fine.”
“What do you mean, everything? You and the baby?”
“Apparently, yes.”
“Good.” Grant lets out a sigh.
His relief is contagious, so I lean back against the pillows stacked on my bed and smile.
“How are you feeling?” he asks after a moment.
“I’m okay,” I say firmly. He spends way too much time worrying about me. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the attention sometimes.
“You sure? No dizziness or anything? Nausea?”
“I’m sure. I feel so much better than I did the other day. I’m even holding down my dad’s pancakes.”
“That’s good to hear. And how is your dad? With everything?”
I chuckle, suddenly imagining a meeting between my dad and Grant. Talk about worrywarts.
“He’s being very supportive. I told him all about Jason too. About the breakup, anyway.”
“Oh?” There’s a hint of something in Grant’s voice, but I can’t make it out.
“Yes. He, um, thinks the baby is Jason’s. And I didn’t tell him otherwise,” I say carefully.
“Right, makes sense,” Grant says on the other end, and I can imagine him nodding solemnly like he does whenever he has something more to say.
“My dad wants to kill him,” I find myself saying, unsure why I’m sharing this. “I’m pretty sure he wants to hunt him down and make him suffer.”
“He’s not the only one.”
I roll my eyes. Men.
“Have you told him yet?” Grant asks.
“Jason?”
“Yeah.”
“Not yet. But I need to, soon. It’s the right thing to do.” I scratch at a spot behind my knee. I’d rather never talk to Jason again, but he needs to know that I could potentially be carrying his baby.
“I guess so.”
I frown. Grant clearly has something else to say, but as always, he’s self-censoring. I’d be aggravated if I weren’t so sure that he’s putting my feelings first.
“So, you’re getting enough to eat?”
I grin. “I’m fine. I promise.”
“When are you coming home?” Grant asks next.
I think we’re both surprised by the use of the word home to describe Grant’s condo, because a silence falls over the call.
“Uh, well . . .” I stammer, eager to banish any awkwardness. He could just be talking about Seattle in general. “Probably the day after tomorrow. I don’t work again until later this week.”
“All right, well, let me know. I can pick up some groceries, and we’ll have dinner.”
I chew on my lip. When are you going to stop using Grant, Ana?
“Sounds good,” I say, feigning enthusiasm. It’s just dinner.
“I’ll talk to you later.”
“You bet. ’Bye, Grant.”
“’Bye, Ana.”
I hang up, tossing my phone on the bed beside me and closing my eyes for a moment. The sigh that comes out of me is tired and weak.
How nice would it be to simply rest in the assurance that Grant will take care of me? I touch my belly. Of us?
But I know myself, and I know I can’t let him put aside everything to do that. I can’t derail his entire life just because mine is messed up.
I won’t.
18
* * *
Unexpected Action
Grant
The ballroom is decked out in elaborate bunches of sunny yellow balloons that arch over doorways, and huge bouquets of yellow roses in the center of each round table. Tonight’s gala is meant to raise money for a domestic violence safe house here in Seattle, and it looks like the turnout is great.
Coach Dodd thumps me on the shoulder as I pass, giving me a thumbs-up, but I don’t pause to talk with him. I weave my way through the crowd, scanning for Ana.
She may be staying at my place, but I haven’t seen much of her since she returned from visiting her Dad last week. A midweek trip to the Northeast kept me away, and this week I spent several days in Canada for a series of away games. I’ve been looking forward to the chance to see her tonight, eager to check on her and find out how she’s been feeling.
I had to be here two hours early for a photo shoot, which meant even though Ana agreed to come as my date tonight, we didn’t arrive together. And I’m starting to get a little itchy in this tuxedo, because the party started twenty minutes ago and I still haven’t seen her.
Reaching into my jacket pocket for my phone, I check the time again and note I don’t have any missed calls or texts from her.
“Grant, over here!” I hear Jordie call from across the room.
I follow the sound of his voice and spot him standing beside a table filled with my teammates and their wives and girlfriends.
When I get closer, I realize Ana is there too, and for a moment, my size thirteen feet stop working.
God, she looks beautiful.
I can’t help my gaze from wandering the length of her, or the way it lingers over her stomach, which is still flat. Her golden hair is down tonight and has been straightened, lying in a silky sheet over each of her shoulders. Her brown eyes are lined with mascara and that other stuff, eyeliner maybe? A simple black sheath dress that falls to her knees and a pair of black heels complete her look. She looks classy. Sophisticated. Beautiful.
Her gaze meets mine, and my breath catches. Then a smile slowly spreads across her face.
“Grant,” she murmurs, lifting on her toes when I bend down to hug her.
“Damn. You look gorgeous.”
She chuckles, patting the lapel of my jacket. “You clean up nice too. Did you shave?”
I grin, running one hand along my jaw. “Yeah. I figured it was time.”