She leans in a little closer. “I’m not sure what I like best. Scruff or no scruff.”
Jordie watches our interaction with an amused expression. But thankfully, everyone else seems too engrossed in their own conversations to notice me basically losing my shit over how gorgeous this girl is.
“Who wants wine?” Elise, the fiancée of my best center, holds up two bottles.
Jordie hands me a glass, and I hold it out, accepting a pour of red wine.
Elise holds up the bottles. “Ana, red or white?”
Ana makes a face, and I can tell she’s debating whether to tell everyone she’s pregnant. It’s early still. From what I read, women don’t usually begin sharing the news they’re pregnant until later in the first trimester. Something about the chance of miscarriage being higher. There’s a lot of scary shit I read, to be honest.
“Ana?” Elise asks with wide, eager eyes.
Ana smiles demurely, still thinking it over. “Surprise!” She lets out an uneasy laugh. “I’m expecting. Which I realize is a little, well, unexpected, but . . .” She shrugs. “Yeah.”
My teammate Owen’s wife, Becca, who is also pregnant, takes Ana’s hand and squeezes. “This is amazing news. Everything happens for a reason.”
Ana nods. “True. It was a bit shocking at first, but I’m excited.”
“How far along are you?” Elise asks.
“When are you due?” Becca says next.
“Just six weeks, and um, mid-June.” Ana’s cheeks are pink as she answers these, and other questions, like about how she’s feeling and what she thinks about natural childbirth, and if she plans to breastfeed.
It’s a lot. Based on Ana’s surprised reaction, I’m not even sure that she knows the answers to some of these questions yet. I love my teammates, but their wives can be a bit much.
Exchanging an uneasy look with Owen and Justin, I shove one hand in my pocket. They have no reason to suspect the baby could be mine. And since now is not the time, I decide not to bring it up.
I lean in close while the excited chatter continues around Ana. “Can I get you something to drink?” I ask her in a low voice, hoping to save her from any further embarrassment.
She flashes me a grateful look. “Grapefruit juice?”
“Of course.” I make my way over to the bar and place her order.
“Sorry, sir, we don’t have grapefruit juice. We have orange, pineapple, or cranberry.”
“Thanks anyway.” On the way back to the table, I intercept a busboy, stopping him with a stern look. “Hey, kid, can you do me a favor?”
His eyes widen. “You’re Grant Henry.”
I nod, fishing my wallet out of my back pocket. “Run to the corner market, and this is yours.” I flash him a crisp hundred-dollar bill.
“Uh, sure,” he says, nodding. “What did you need?”
“Grapefruit juice. Bring it directly to me. I’ll be over there.” I point toward the table where Ana is now sitting between Elise and Becca, nodding along to something one of them is saying.
The busboy dashes away, and I rejoin my friends at the table. Ana’s too immersed in the conversation to notice that I’ve returned without her beverage. But less than five minutes later, the busboy comes through.
“Thanks, man,” I say, tipping him.
“Can I, uh, get your autograph?” he asks, handing me the bottle of juice.
“Sure.” I scrawl out a quick signature on the back of the receipt and hand it to him.
Jordie gives me a strange look as the guy saunters away, but I ignore it. Twisting off the top of the glass bottle, I pour Ana’s grapefruit juice into a glass and hand it to her.
She pauses in the middle of her conversation about breast versus bottle feeding and gives me an appreciative look. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I murmur.
Ana takes a sip and makes a little pleasure-filled sound that I feel down in my balls.
Awesome.
Unease tightens inside my chest. I’m going to need something stronger than wine. I don’t know how it’s not obvious to everyone at this table the attraction I feel toward Ana. Hell, maybe it is, and I’m terrible at faking.
“Jordie, what are you drinking?” I ask, tipping my chin toward the bar.
“I’ll walk with you,” he says.
Out of earshot of the rest of our friends, he wastes no time digging in. “So, you and Ana?” he asks as we pause beside the bar, waiting our turn to be served.
I give him a blank look, hoping my lack of enthusiasm for this topic will be a clear signal. Sadly, Jordie is undeterred. His mouth twists in a wry grin. Clearly, he’s enjoying my discomfort.
“When did this all happen?”
“Nothing’s happening.” My expression says to leave it alone, but of course Jordie’s not going to do that.
“But . . .”
“Just drop it, Jordie.” My tone is biting.
“Dude. You can’t just shut me out. I have so many questions.”
“Well, I don’t have answers. So, like I said, drop it.”
The bartender approaches, and Jordie orders a beer while I request a gin and tonic.
“Top shelf, if you have it,” I say, sliding the bartender a large tip.
“Certainly, sir.” He nods.
With our drinks in hand, we start back toward the table.
“But you don’t date,” Jordie says with a raised brow.
“We’re not dating,” I mutter without meeting his eyes. Because she’s not looking for a relationship, my brain helpfully reminds me.
I know Jordie’s had questions ever since that night he brought over the pregnancy tests. And now that Ana and I are here together, and she’s just announced her pregnancy, it’s only natural that he’s asking. But I meant it when I told him I don’t have any answers. Shit, his guess is as good as mine about what’s happening between us.
I take a deep breath. “Listen, it’s not going anywhere, okay? She’s staying with me for a bit, that’s it.”
He makes an annoyed sound. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Now, I’m the one feeling annoyed. I don’t need him giving me the third degree I about this, especially because I don’t have any answers. “Besides I don’t like dogs,” I blurt out.
He smirks. “Uh huh.”
“Fuck off Jordie. I’m serious.”
He turns to face me, and his normally playful expression has been replaced by a somber one. “I saw the way you looked at her.”
“Yeah, and how did I look at her?”
He meets my eyes. “Like you wanted to protect her. Take care of her.”
Fuck. I guess I was more obvious than I thought. My Adam’s apple bobs in my throat. “I do. I am. It’s the decent thing to do.”
“I guess so.” He nods.
We’re almost back to the table and, thankfully, done with this conversation. I take a long swallow of my drink, hoping it will extinguish some of the anxiety stewing inside me.
19
* * *
Sweet Relief
Ana