Drew + Fable Forever: A One Week Girlfriend Novella (8 page)

I’m waiting for Fable now in our hotel room. While I went to practice, she went and explored Boston with one of the other players’ wives. That’s another thing—my wife is out making friends, getting to know the other wives, becoming more social. She’s really opened up. She’s more confident, easier to laugh, easier to talk to someone she doesn’t know. Again, she’s a private person, but she’s become adept at putting on a public persona. She shows the world what they want to see.

But deep down, she’s still the sweet, fiercely protective girl I fell in love with. She’s still
my Fable. My story. My life.

An idea comes to me, one so outrageous, so over the top, I know we have to do it. Fable will think I’m crazy but I don’t care. I’m excited just thinking about it.

The door suddenly swings open, interrupting my thoughts, and in walks Fable, carrying what looks like about fifty shopping bags on either arm. She huffs out a loud breath and I go to her, help her by taking some of the bags so I can set them on the bed.

“What the hell, did you buy all of Boston?” I ask incredulously, noting the store names scrawled across the bags. Expensive places, most of them. I guess she’s gotten over her fear of spending too much money.

Not that I’m protesting. I want her to have fun and buy whatever the hell she wants, whenever she wants it. She’s worth it.

With a laugh she dumps the remaining bags on the bed and then collapses on top of it, her arms thrown out wide, the bags starting to tumble over and fall on her. Her laughter grows and I grab the bags, dumping them on the floor so they’re not spilling all over her. “I had the best time. We went all over the place and had lunch. Amanda is so sweet, and so is Bryce.”

I frown and settle on the bed beside her, making the mattress dip so she slides toward me. “Who’s Bryce?”

“Her baby. Oh, Drew.” She sits up, her eyes shining, her cheeks glowing from the cold air outside. She looks excited, full of hope. “He’s so sweet and cute. Just a little doll. And so good-natured. He hardly cried at all and we were out shopping for hours.”

Uneasiness slips over me. “Right. I, uh, forgot Thomas has a new baby.” Jay Thomas is a great guy, but hell, he’s thirty years old. I still have a ways to go before I hit that age. I’m not ready for kids.

Am I?

No. I’m definitely not. Not yet.

For the longest time I could hardly take care of myself. How can I take on the responsibility of a baby? Yeah, I’ve helped raise Owen, but that’s different. He came into my life when he was fourteen. He could already pretty much take care of himself. And he’s not my
child.
Once you have a baby, it’s yours whether you like it or not. Completely dependent on you for the next eighteen-plus years.

A shiver moves through me at the thought.

“Yes, he’s adorable.” She sits up and takes my hand, her shoulder bumping against mine as she stares into my eyes. “Being with Amanda and Bryce made me realize something.”

“What?” I ask, my voice weak. I know exactly what she’s going to say. I’m not ready to hear it, though. I’m not ready for any of this.

“I want to try for a baby,” she says softly. “We should try now, don’t you think? If I get pregnant quick, I’d have the baby in the summer when you’re home and then I wouldn’t have to worry about you being away for a game or whatever when I go into labor. Now is the perfect time. The
best
time. I know we’re young and all, but we’ve been together for so long. I think the next natural step is having a baby. Don’t you? Don’t you want a baby boy that can carry on the name, or a baby girl you could spoil rotten?”

“Uh …”

“Amanda is young. She’s only twenty-five. But she loves being a mommy. She says Bryce is the best baby and besides, she has a nanny who can help out when she needs it,” Fable continues.

“You want a nanny?” I scratch the back of my neck, my brain overloaded with images of babies and nannies and diapers and crying and strollers and …

Shit.

“I don’t really think so,” she says with a frown, as if she was seriously contemplating it. “I probably don’t need one. I can handle taking care of the baby, especially since I don’t work.”

“You wouldn’t be able to travel with me as much,” I point out.

Her frown deepens. “True. But we’d adjust. And after we adjust, I’m sure I could travel with you and the baby. It would be fun, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” I shrug. “You know, we wouldn’t have each other all to ourselves anymore, and I’d miss that. I think you would too. Our lives would completely change. There’d be someone else we’d always have to consider.”

“We always have someone else to consider. Owen,” she reminds me.

“That’s different. He’s on his own now and he knows we’ll help him no matter what.” I wave a hand, getting up off the bed so I can start pacing in front of her. Back and forth, back and forth in front of the bed, my mind racing, panic slipping through my veins. “A baby needs constant care, Fable. It would be dependent on us. More like the baby would be dependent on
you,
because I won’t be around much. Are you ready for that?”

“Absolutely,” she says with utter conviction. “I can’t wait to have our baby, Drew. I want to have lots of babies with you.”

Lots of babies.
Those three words send fear clawing up my throat. I stop my pacing and rest my hands on my hips as I stare at her, looking hopeful and puzzled as she sits on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not ready,” I blurt out, then clamp my lips shut, bracing myself for her reaction.

“What do you mean, you’re not ready?” She sounds genuinely confused.

“For babies. I love you, Fable, but my life is finally on track. I’m on top of my game—literally—I’m married to the best woman ever, and I’m still freaking young. I’m not ready for us to have a child yet.”

“No one’s ever really ready,” she starts, then drops her head so she can stare at her hands, which are clutched in her lap. “It scares me, too, you know. I’m the one who has to be pregnant, who has to carry and then deliver the baby.” A visible shiver runs through her.

My fear over having a baby switches to the fear of Fable pregnant and all the complications that could arise.
Yeah. Never even thought of that.
“We don’t need to have … any children, right?”

She stares at me, her eyes narrow, her mouth in a grim line.
Great.
I’m worried sick about her and I just pissed her off. “You don’t get it,” she mutters as she stands and storms off toward the bathroom. “All I want is a little piece of you, Drew. I want to create a family with you. You’re my husband; we’ve been together for a long time. It’s the natural progression, right?”

“Fable, wait,” I start, but she turns to glare at me and I shut up.
Fuck,
she’s mad. I can’t remember the last time I saw her this angry. Sure, we argue sometimes, but not too often. We get along. For whatever reason, the two of us together equals a healthy relationship. The two of us apart equals unhealthy behavior on both our parts.

We freaking need each other. It’s scary to think of life without her by my side. That may sound too dependent—a psychiatrist would have a field day with us—but I don’t give a shit. We’re happy. That’s all that matters.

“I’ve sacrificed everything for you,” she murmurs, her voice small and sad. “I’ve given up my dreams for yours.”

“You’ve given up your dreams?” I’m incredulous. “I never asked you to give up anything
for me.”

“I know. But I did. I followed you everywhere. You wanted to go pro? I supported you. You wanted me to come to your games and leave Owen behind? I did it. You wanted me to start talking to the media? I did that, too. Always putting aside my own fears and insecurities so I could make you happy. The least you could do is consider doing the same for me. I really don’t think I’m asking for much.”

Her words render me silent as I absorb them, shock coursing through me, leaving me cold. She’s asking for so much, it’s not even funny. I don’t know what to say, how to act. Loving me and supporting me is a sacrifice? Is that how she really feels?

But before I can ask her, she’s disappeared, the bathroom door quietly clicking shut behind her. Shutting me out, shutting her in.

Keeping us apart.

Men. They’re fucking ridiculous. Selfish, idiotic creatures that have no clue what’s really going on around them. If I weren’t in Drew’s life taking care of him, where would he be? What would he be doing? Living a cold shell of a life, moving through the world like a zombie, still having to deal with his dad and his stepmom and whatever other sick, disgusting things that woman might’ve done to him?

Or would he have become stronger? Would he have broken free of her mental chains? I’d like to think so. We’ll never know, though, because I came into his life at just the right time and changed everything—for the better. And once we committed ourselves to each other, I did what he wanted. No questions asked. I never had a doubt about any of his choices or mine, or ours together.

So why can’t he give me this? I’ve thought about having a baby with him for a while. Yeah, the idea of being pregnant, of getting big and fat and then actually delivering the baby frightens me; I’m not going to lie.

But spending time with Amanda and her baby son was so much fun. He’s such a sweet little boy and he smells so good. He’s four months old, full of smiles and little baby giggles, and my heart jumped to my throat every time he smiled for me, his blue eyes twinkling. He’s chubby
and was bundled up for the cold weather, looking snug as a bug in his stroller. When Amanda pulled him out to feed him and then asked if I would hold him while she went to the bathroom, I gladly took him into my arms.

And stared down at him in wonder.

I imagined having Drew’s child. Holding a wiggly dark-haired little baby that we created, cuddled in my arms night after night. Feeding the baby, loving the baby, seeing Drew with his baby … the mere thought of it all made my heart fill to bursting. I’d been so excited, so eager to talk to him I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel. I wanted to tell him all about Bryce, and how much I wanted to have his baby. I thought he’d be agreeable and say yes. I thought we’d be naked in bed right now, trying our best to have a baby.

Well, I’d have to stop taking the pill first. That would help.

And then I come back to the hotel and discover he doesn’t want one. Clearly. He looked ready to run at the first mention of a baby, which is his usual mode of operation. When the going gets tough, the Drew gets running. He loves to escape his problems. I’m the one who always makes him face them head on.

But look: I just did the same exact thing. Rather than continue our discussion, I walked out on him. Locked myself up in this bathroom so I could hide from him, fill the giant sunken tub with hot steaming water, and soak all my troubles away.

It hasn’t really helped, though. I’m still mad. More than that, I’m hurt. Hurt that he doesn’t want to even talk about trying for a baby. I’m not asking that we have one tomorrow. It usually takes a few tries before a woman gets pregnant. More than a few tries, even. We still have time. I just want a chance.

I want a baby. Drew’s baby. I want a sweet boy who looks just like his daddy. Or I want a pretty little girl who’s spoiled rotten. Actually, I want both—not as twins, but I want children, at least three kids, maybe four. I want to create a loving family with parents who still adore each other and healthy, smart kids. I want the picture-perfect little family, and I think Drew and I could totally accomplish it.

If he could just get his head out of his ass and stop panicking every single time I suggest something new and life-changing, then maybe we could move forward.

Muttering a few choice words beneath my breath, I reach for my phone sitting on the tiled edge of the tub to check the time. I’ve been in here for at least thirty minutes, avoiding
Drew and soaking in the hot water.

Look at that. I have a message. From Drew.

Fable is …

Freaking

Absolutely

Beautiful

Loving and my

Everything

Talk to me.

No apology, but a poem. And I will not fall for his sweet, little silly poems—
freaking absolutely beautiful?
The guy is reaching and sorely out of practice. But I will not give in. I will not. I will not. I will not.

Despite my so-called steely resolve, I feel my heart melting. And it’s not from the steamy bathwater, either.

Sitting up more fully, I lean over the edge of the tub and start typing.

I’m mad at you. I don’t really want to talk to you.

I hit send.
There.
It felt good to be honest with him. If we can’t face each other and talk about this, then let’s go ahead and send text messages to each other like we’re teens. Whatever.

Thinking about babies scares me. I probably reacted wrong.

Ha.
Understatement of the year. Yeah, he reacted wrong.

You definitely did. Didn’t you ever think we’d have a family someday?

Yeah, but in the far-off future. Not now. How can I take care of a baby?

I let out an irritated breath.

It’s not just you taking care of the baby, Drew. It’s the two of us. We do everything together. We’re a team.

I wait a while but he doesn’t text back, irritating me all over again. I mean, what the hell? Why does he panic so much? Yeah, this is scary, thinking about something as life-changing as this, but no one’s ever really ready for a baby. It usually just happens.

After fifteen minutes I’m still waiting and my skin is starting to prune up. It’s hot in the bathroom and I’m literally sweating. I want out, but I’m not ready to face him yet. Things are still left unresolved and I hate it.

My cell pings again and I grab it to read his message.

You’re thinking about babies and I thought maybe we should try and renew our vows.

I frown. Really?

Are you serious? We’ve only been married for a year.

But you didn’t get a real wedding.