Fair Game: A Football Romance (42 page)

“Whatever, I like it, and I think I’ll be able to work it into a lot of conversations in the immediate future. Anyway, did you find your Target girl again?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Finally came to your senses, huh?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“I never thought I’d see the day you would want to spend more than one night with a woman, but then again, I never thought I’d see the day Craig asked for a divorce either.” Her voice cracks at the mention of Craig.

“Let’s talk about something else, Sis.”

“No, tell me about her. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise, no more tears.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Her name is Violet, and she’s a computer software designer for Facebook in San Diego.”

“What a beautiful name.”

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

Sam stops stirring and places the wooden spoon across the pan. She turns around, and with her hands on her hips, she clucks her tongue and shakes her head back and forth.

“You, Major Sawyer Steele, are in love. I’ve haven’t heard that tone in your voice for years.”

I smirk and shrug my shoulders. No sense denying it.

She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me fiercely. Malory runs into the kitchen, followed by her eight-year-old ‘brother’, Davy, and seven-year-old ‘sister’, Summer.

“Ew, why are you guys huggin?” Davy says, clearly repulsed by our show of affection.

“Daddy loves Auntie Sam, duh,” Malory says with an air of superiority.

“Your Uncle Sawyer has a girlfriend,” Sam says.

Summer’s face falls. She’s always had a crush on her Uncle Sawyer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll always be my girl,” I say pulling her into our hug. She smiles with that reassurance.

“Hey, what bout me?” Malory says, squeezing in for her share of love. I can’t take anymore crowding, and Sam senses it, releasing me and clapping her hands together.

“Ok, now let’s get back to business here. Malory, get the salad out of the refrigerator. Davy, fill up the glasses with lemonade, and Summer, fold up some paper towels for napkins. Hurry up, chop, chop.”

The kids all snap into action, working together, and I stand in awe of my sister. I can command two hundred Marines, but they asked to be there. If they don’t do what I say, they’re out. Kids have to constantly be convinced they want to be part of a team, and my sister is a pro at that.

We sit down and eat. Craig doesn’t show up, and I can tell my sister is having a difficult time. She’s probably having visions of her husband screwing some young twat in a hotel room on the beach. He must be having some sort of quarter-life crisis or something. His life is the definition of perfect. His wife is gorgeous, kind, hard working and faithful. Those are rare qualities in a woman these days. He has a thriving business and a good career, kids who love him, financial security, and a wife who loves him. Who fucks that up for a piece of ass?

I play a couple of board games with the kids and throw a football to Davy in the yard before calling it a night. Craig’s still not home when I leave, and I’m worried about my sister, which means I’m worried about my daughter. It’s an impossible position to be in. I want to protect her from the hardships the family is about to experience, but taking her home with me, even temporarily, is unfathomable.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Violet

Sexting

“You okay over there, Violet?” Marie asks, popping her head around her monitor. We decided to move her desk into my office for our latest project so we don’t have to keep running back and forth between our offices all the time. Now the only things separating us are our thirty-inch computer monitors.

“Brazilian wax this morning,” I say, sitting up on one cheek, cringing.

She scrunches up her face, and a shiver runs through her body. “Oh God, say no more. Wait,
do
say more. Why are you waxing your lady bits? Do you have a hot date?”

“Not tonight, but this weekend, yes. It’s with the guy I met a few months back in Oceanside when I went down for the wedding that never happened.”

“Mr. Hot Marine from the sidewalk?”

“That’s the one. Hey, I could ask him if he has any nice friends to hook you up with.”

She instantly shakes her head no.

“I’ll just live vicariously through you, Violet. Thanks though.”

“Such a waste. You’re a great person, Marie, you know?”

“Sure, great,” she says, rolling her eyes.

I’m having trouble concentrating today, what with the sting between my legs from being waxed and the excitement of my upcoming weekend. I can’t wait to see Major again. Double dating with Kimber and Garcia will be fun too. That’s something I don’t have much of anymore—
fun
.

I’ve been waxed head to toe, I had a mani/pedi, and I even had my hair trimmed. The only thing I’m worried about now is my baby bump. It decided to pop out this week of all weeks, and unless I blame it on being bloated after a big meal, I’m going to have some explaining to do soon.

Major knows my body well enough to notice a change like this. I’m in pretty good shape, so the smallest amount of weight gain is easy to see. I’m still fine in clothes, but naked, different story. I think it’s time to tell the Major he’s going to be a daddy again. Ever since I learned how he feels about fatherhood, I’m concerned now more than ever about his reaction.

“You wanna take an early lunch today?” I ask Marie.

“Sure. Why? What’s up?”

“I’m just sort of worthless today. I think I need some fresh air.”

“Yeah, or some shopping.”

This surprises me. Marie isn’t exactly fashion conscious, and neither am I. I have to let a salesperson put all my outfits together. The only things I’m any good at picking out are lingerie and shoes.

“We could. Anything specific you have in mind? I’m not the best shopper, in case you didn’t notice.” I pinch my boring white shirt at the shoulder, lifting up the material and dropping it.

“I like the way you dress. It’s so . . . I don’t know, so—”

“So
I don’t give a shit what people think
?”

“Yes, that!”

“Well, if that’s the look you’re going for, I’m your girl. Let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in the middle of a lingerie boutique on Mission Blvd. holding up a pair of lacy black and red, barely there panties. What the hell am I’m doing here? I’m pregnant. This stuff is what you wear to
get
pregnant. It’s too late for that. I don’t even know what Major likes, but here I am, picking out uncomfortable sexy underthings to stuff my pregnant body into.

“I like those,” Marie says from behind me. I turn around and find her with ten of the skimpiest pieces in the store dangling from velvet hangers.

“Uh, Marie, is there something you’d like to tell me? Like are you a closet sex kitten or something?”

“Oh gosh no. These aren’t for me, they’re for you,” she says, thrusting the scraps of lace and satin into my hands.

I must be doing a better job of hiding my extra pounds than I thought. She’s gotta be kidding, thinking I can fit into some of these things. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe they aren’t actually supposed to ‘fit’.

“Go try them on. Fitting room is back there.”

“You’re pretty familiar with this place, Marie. You sure you haven’t been here before?”

“I have a friend who shops here. I help her sometimes.”

“Okay then, I’ll see what I can do.”

In the dressing room, I strip down and turn to the side to look at the profile of my belly. There’s definitely a bump. I swear it’s bigger now than it was this morning before work. Can that happen? Do babies grow that fast? No, of course not. I’m not growing a vampire like Bella in
Twilight.
It’s just my imagination. Has to be.

I slip into a black little number—emphasis on
little
—and look at myself in the mirror with my hands on my hips. Not bad. It camouflages Mr. or Ms. Bump nicely. Definitely a contender. Next up is a white three-piece set with a garter that works nicely over my tummy too. Number three is a no-fucking-way, and four and five are out as well.

When I’m slipping out of the last set, a perfectly manicured hand thrusts a baby doll nighty and matching panties between the slit in the curtain.

“I thought you might prefer something with a little more coverage in your condition,” says a voice I don’t recognize.

I poke my head out, holding the curtain around my body, and find a saleswoman in her thirties or forties, smiling unapologetically.

“What do you mean,
in my condition
?”

She lowers her eyes to my bump and then back to my face.

“How did you know?”

She shrugs. “It’s my job to know women’s bodies. I could just tell. You should really tell your girlfriend, you know. It’s obvious by her choice of lingerie that she has no idea.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We work together, and she’s not gay.”

I don’t think.

“Huh. Could have fooled me. Anyway, give that a try. It’s comfortable and sexy. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

She turns on her stiletto heel and struts away onto the sales floor.

Marie, gay? Maybe she’s right.

The cornflower blue baby doll set compliments my brown skin perfectly, and it’s so much more comfortable. Nosy sales lady seems to know best.

I dress in my own clothes, and when I arrive at the register to pay, Marie is waiting, holding a bag with secretive tissue paper poking out the top in her hand.

“You bought something.” I raise one brow and give her a nod of approval.

“Yeah, it’s not much. Did you like anything?”

“I’m getting these.” I hold up the baby doll set and the black one-piece Marie picked out. It won’t fit for long, but I think I’m good for the weekend.

“Perfect.”

Outside, Marie and I decide to walk down the busy street to a café for lunch. I’ve been really lucky, according to the books I’ve been reading. They say that if I were going to have morning sickness, it probably should have started by now.

Smells, on the other hand—now that’s a different story. The smell of a street vendor’s Greek food stops me in my tracks.

“You okay?” Marie asks when I halt in the middle of a sidewalk swarming with people.

I hold up one finger and cover my mouth with my other hand. I lower my eyes to the ground and take a deep breath, waiting for my mouth to quit watering. When I’m 90% sure the nausea has passed, I start walking.

“Sorry, those Gyros almost made me vomit.”

“Yeah? I thought they smelled good.”

I shake my head vigorously and lead Marie into the café. Safe inside away from the smells of the street, I start to feel better when a hostess seats us at a table by the window. Thankfully, there is an awning blocking the hot midday sun. I can’t put off asking Marie if she’s gay for another second.

“Marie?”

“What?” she says, rummaging through her purse.

“Are you a lesbian?”

She drops the lip-gloss she was just digging for back into her purse and she looks at me, panicked.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I was just wondering.”

She takes a deep breath and hangs her purse on the back of her chair.

“Yes, sort of. I’m Bi, but nobody at work knows I have a girlfriend. Please don’t mention it.”

“Of course not. I would never say anything that you don’t want me to say, but why?”

“I just don’t think it’s anybody’s business. They don’t need to know I swing both ways.”

“Okay, well that makes sense then. I always wondered why such a pretty woman didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s true.”

“No, thanks for understanding, and for keeping it on the down low.”

“It’s no big deal, but since we’re spilling secrets, can I tell you one?”

“Of course. I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

“I’m pregnant.”

It feels so weird to say it out loud. I haven’t told anyone, and Mom heard it secondhand from Dr. Kumar, so this is the first time I’ve spoken the words.

“Wow,” she says.

“I know.”

“I mean, wow. I thought being bisexual was a big secret, but pregnant? Wow.”

“Stop saying wow. It’s starting to freak me out.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“Who’s the dad—oh wait, it’s not Major hot pants, is it?”

I nod yes.

“Oh wow.”

“Marie!”

“Sorry. Does he know?”

“No, I’m telling him this weekend.”

“How far along are you? Oh no, wait, like twelve weeks, right? You met him three months ago.”

“Yes, exactly twelve weeks.”

“No morning sickness?”

“Thankfully, no, just sensitive to smells.

“You look amazing.”

“Thanks, I feel pretty good too. A little tired, but that’s normal, I guess.”

“Can I tell you another secret?” she says, lowering her eyes to her lap.

“Sure, what is it, Marie?”

“I had a baby once. I gave him up for adoption.”

“Oh Marie, I didn’t mean to bring up a painful experience. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I was nineteen and I had no way to support myself, let alone a baby. My parents handled the whole thing. He was better off.”

“Anyway, I know about being pregnant if you ever have any questions.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. I haven’t told anyone, so you’re all I got right now.”

She places her hand on her chest. “I’m honored you chose me to be the first to know, even if it was spontaneously and because I told you I’m bisexual,” she says, tilting her head and looking up thoughtfully.

We laugh and have lunch and skip out on work for the rest of the day.

At home, I snip the tags off my purchases and fold them neatly in a drawer. I’ve become more conscious of being tidy recently. A certain Marine is rubbing off on me. Well, I guess I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m usually pretty messy and he’s a good influence. My apartment has never been cleaner.

Except for my couch. Every time I walk through the living room, I laugh. I’ve considered taking a picture of the rainbow stained cushions and texting it to Lucas, but he’s not worth my time. I ordered new living room furniture the day after our cupcake session. It was liberating. I loved it.

I waste away the rest of the day watching Netflix. I wish Major were here so we could Netflix and chill. Maybe I’ll text him. Yes, I definitely need to text him. Curled up on my rainbow couch, looking as unsexy as I can in my yoga pants, a tank top and big, fuzzy socks, I send a sext to Major.

Me -
What are you wearing?

Major –
Depends, who is this?

Me –
Rainbow bright.

Major –
Ah, I remember you. White couch . . . frosting . . . mmm.

Me –
Yep
,
so what are you wearing?

Major –
Black boxers.

My mouth waters, and it’s not from nausea.

Me –
That’s all?

Major –
Yes, what are you wearing?

I look down at my sad sleepwear and sigh. It’s not lying if it’s for a good cause, right?

Me –
White lace boy short panties and a push up bra.

There’s a long pause before his response. Maybe he doesn’t sext? Then my phone pings again.

Major –
Are you in bed?

Oh he sexts all right.

Me –
Yes.

Major –
Take off your panties.

Oh God, am I actually going to do this? Yes, yes I am. I hop off the couch and go into my room. I scrunch my socks down with my feet and kick them off and take off my yoga pants and panties. I’m going to have to switch to voice texting if I wanna do this right, and I want to do this right.

Major –
Are they off?

Me –
Yes.