Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance (20 page)

I
t didn’t worry
me that I forgot why I came to the store.

It terrified me because I forgot
driving
there.

The fog was bad today, precipitated by a headache that only cleared when I reached the cereal aisle. It wasn’t a total blackout, but it wasn’t good.

What a pain in the ass.

At least I wore matching shoes this time. The last time I had a bad episode, I’d left the house with one black and one brown shoe. As a result, I threw out all but my black dress shoes, black loafers, and my tennis shoes. That made my wardrobe easier. Less of a chance to mess things up.

Less of a chance for anyone to notice.

I could handle it. Hell, I was feeling better than Rory. She was twenty-seven weeks of discomfort—cranky, hot, and hungry.

Still beautiful though. Just…less patient.

Why the hell didn’t I write down what she wanted before I headed to the store?

I set the empty basket on the floor and pulled out my phone. Nothing on the grocery list, only my usual reminders to pick up the mail, load the dishwasher, and go to bed at nine since practice was kicking my ass.

I turned the aisle. The store was so damn yellow. My vision haloed enough without spreading golden blotches everywhere. I stared at the food and tried to remember.

She had been hungry.

I volunteered to go out.

Of course, I used it as an opportunity to hide the headache from her. Reap what I sowed, though my ass was grass if I returned without the food she craved.

I looked around. This was the wrong aisle too.

For now
.

Baby
stuff
filled the wall, and an exhausted man stared at the blue and pink packages. He rubbed his neck, cracked his back, and reached for the newborn diapers. He nodded at me, eyes dark with the smudge of sleepless circles.

“You too, buddy?” he asked.

Buddy
? I almost laughed. He was wearing my jersey and a Rivets’ hat. Was he too exhausted to recognize me?

“Word of advice,” he said. “If you make one diaper run, you’ll be making another the next day. Buy double what you need.”

Good advice I’d probably never remember.

Good advice I wouldn’t
need
to remember. Rory and I still hadn’t discussed what would happen once the baby came. Or how she’d handle it. Where she’d go.

The original plan was to break it off after Genie was born. But that meant Rory would be making these diaper trips herself. Raising the newborn,
herself
. Handling all the stress…
herself
.

The thought destroyed me.

I shrugged at the man. “Oh, I’m not going to be…”

A father? Having a baby?

Torturing myself in the diaper aisle late at night to help a family I didn’t have?

I sighed. “We’re not here just yet.”

“Oh. Savor this time. Get some sleep for me.”

He grabbed two packages of diapers and cast them on a frozen pizza in his cart. He continued on through the store, battle-worn and exhausted.

That was it.

There was no way in
hell
Rory was doing this on her own.

But how could I help her if I didn’t even know what snack she had wanted for tonight?

I patted my jeans. An envelope stuffed in the back pocket. I didn’t recognize the paper, but maybe I had scribbled something on the way out the door. I opened it.

GIRL

“What the hell…”

The paper crinkled in my hand. My panic echoed over the aisles.

“
Fuck!
”

Oh, no, no,
no
. This was either the world’s most perverted shopping list or the note the OBGYN wrote that revealed the baby’s gender.

It was like a
trap
I set for myself.
This
was why I always did the reminders as they popped up on my phone. I should have done the laundry when scheduled. Then I might have trashed the note.

Rory was right. Genie was a girl.

And I was a
dead
man.

I stuffed the note in my pocket and thumped my temple. Fucking figured. When I needed a linebacker to hit me, I was in the clear.

Shit
.

I didn’t waste any more time. At home, Rory seemed to like concord grapes, bologna, and cream soda. Mostly at the same time. I grabbed her favorites and checked out.

And I got it wrong.

Worse than wrong.

Rory’s expression crumbled the minute I walked into the door. She sunk onto the couch, and Phillip took his rightful spot at her side, permitting her to cuddle against him when I inevitably screwed up.

I held up the bag. “I…got you some things.”

“I don’t think you got it right.”

“What did you want?”

She sighed. “Root beer popsicles.”

Damn it—that was right. I had three boxes of the variety pack still sitting in the freezer, but Rory only wanted the root beer flavors. Maybe I could convince her to try the cherry again, though the last one had bombed in her tummy and scared the hell out of us when she threw up
red
.

“And fried chicken?” Rory patted her swollen tummy, no longer a bump but a rather pronounced declaration to the world. “And my bubble bath soap?”

Then it clicked. “Because you wanted to eat the chicken and popsicle in the tub.”

She slumped against the couch. “I’m okay. I didn’t need it.”

“No. I’ll go back out.”

“Don’t be silly.” She sniffled. “I’m a grown woman. I can…” She pushed herself from the couch. It didn’t work. She planted her feet and groaned. “Go to the store myself.”

She didn’t make it far. Whatever energy boost she gained from the second trimester was wearing off. She sunk back into the sofa and shook her head.

“On second thought. I’ll be okay. I’m a
neurologist
. I have a PhD. I’m an accomplished and successful woman. It’s just a craving.”

“It’s okay.”

“I will
not
cry over root beer popsicles.”

Too late. My heart broke with hers.

“Doc, I’ll go to the store. I promise I’ll remember this time.”

That launched her off the sofa. She frowned, but she was no longer mourning her forgotten dessert. She stared at me, her fingers raised. She counted off.

“Root beer popsicles. Fried chicken. Bubble bath.”

Hell hath no fury like a pregnant woman without fried chicken. She didn’t have to rub it in.

“I know. I’m a horrible person.”

“No, Jude. I gave you a list of three items. You couldn’t remember them.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Tell me. How’s your head? Does it hurt?”

“It does now.”

“Are you dizzy?”

“No.”

“Nauseous?”

I gritted my teeth. “No.”

“Having trouble concentrating?”

“For Christ’s sake, Doc.”

“You’re irritable.”

I threw my arms out. “You’re interrogating me because I forgot to bring you
popsicles
.”

“You should be able to remember
three
things.”

“Can’t you just call me an inconsiderate bastard and be done with it?”

For as exhausted and hungry as she had been, her eyes sharpened. No baby bump slowed her down now.

“But you
aren’t
inconsiderate,” she said. “Not now. Not ever. I know you have these symptoms. We need to take it seriously.”

“No. I need to pay closer attention when you want something.”

“You aren’t listening to me.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked. “I had a concussion, Rory.
Had
. I’m fine now.”

“Why don’t we go to my office tomorrow before practice.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not happening.”

“I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

“You being
sure
means I’ll be inactive for the next game.”

Rory clenched her teeth. “Did I say I wanted to
bench
you? No. I’m concerned. It was a list of three items, Jude.”

“And I said I was sorry!”

“You aren’t listening—”

Rory silenced, grasping her tummy.

A cold fear laced through me. I raced forward as she felt her belly.

“What’s wrong?” I rested a hand on her bump. “Is she okay?”

The baby jumped and kicked, dancing around inside Rory.

“Nothing’s wrong. The baby heard us yelling and…woke up.” Her voice faded. She tilted her head. “What do you mean…is
she
okay?”

Our argument was about to get a lot worse.

“Did you open the envelope?”

Plead the Fifth. Don’t talk. Back away.

How many root beer popsicles did it take to fix this?

“Hear me out, Doc…” I said. “Before you turn into Grumpy…”

“
Jude
!”

“I’m sorry! It was in my pocket. I pulled it out and accidentally read it because—”

“You
forgot
what the paper was?”

“Until I read it.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Name it. Popsicles. Jewelry. A lifetime supply of diapers.
Anything.”

Rory went still. Her eyes brightened as she glanced up at me.

“A
girl
?” she whispered.

“You were right.” I braved a step closer. She took my hand, placing it over the dull thudding.

“What’s it feel like?” I asked.

“At first it was like…someone was making popcorn inside me. Now it’s just like…someone using my bladder as a punching bag.”

“That doesn’t sound comfortable.”

“No…” Her voice softened. “It’s not very comfortable, but it’s the greatest feeling in the world.”

Rory quieted, but her lips still teased with a kissable grace. Her body had changed—quite a bit now—but her poise enthralled me. Her skin toasted, richly dark and more vibrant now. Her hair, even cast into a quick ponytail, was a thick tangle of ebony curls. Her breasts had swelled, her bump filled out, but she still retained the bookworm cuteness.

I shouldn’t have wanted her as much as I did.

Who would blame me though? She’d given herself to me, once, but that was all I’d needed. I lost myself in her, and every fear, regret, and complication faded away. For that night, we shared more than pleasure and passion.

We’d shared
each other
.

I’d never felt that way about any woman. I needed that connection again. I’d gone almost two weeks without her touch, and I craved more than a warm body sleeping in bed next to me.

I reached for her, pulling her close.

Was it wrong to touch her tummy and feel…
proud
?

It wasn’t my child, but she was my Rory. For the first time, I allowed myself to imagine that possibility.

I brushed her cheek. Rory’s eyes fluttered closed, but I knew that
sigh
, that tensing, that
apprehension.
She feared the same thing I did.

What would happen if I touched her again?

What the hell would happen to me if I didn’t?

“I’m sorry I forgot the popsicles,” I whispered.

“It’s okay.”

“I can make it up to you.”

Rory tried to pull away. I tangled my hand within hers, folding our fingers together. She met my gaze with wide, mocha eyes.

“Are you worried this will get too complicated?” Her voice softened. “After the last time…”

“I shouldn’t have let you leave my bed.”

“Jude, I’m twenty-seven weeks pregnant. Getting out of bed is becoming an accomplishment.”

She wasn’t deflecting that easily.

“You’re beautiful, Doc.”

“I’m forever pregnant.”

“And you still look amazing. Strong.”

“You really must have a head injury.”

I pulled her away from the living room. My steps led us from everything safe, rational, and familiar, but I was willing to lose myself in a dangerous world that would ensnare us both.

My concussion and the lingering side-effects aggravated me, but they suddenly make everything else so much clearer. I might have forgotten the little things, but that made the important aspects of my life much more precious.

Like Rory.

Like her touch. Her gentle kiss. The way she looked at me like it was the first time she saw me, the last time she’d ever let herself get so close, and the beginning of something beautiful.

I never thought I’d need someone as much as I needed the game, but I wasn’t complete without her. I wanted it all. Her lips. Her body.

Her laugh. Her smile. Even her chastisements.

How could something so wonderful, so
meaningful
, be wrong?

Rory held me tight as I edged her to the bed. I removed my shirt and ignored the sting of my bruises. Stretching a tweaked shoulder was easier than taking a pregnant woman. Still, I was willing to learn. I’d rub the pain from her back, tease the pleasure from her core, and hold her as we drifted to sleep—together—feeling the baby move.

She groaned as I tugged at her shirt. “I’m big.”

“Beautiful.”

“I’m all
bump
.”

No. Not
all
bump. She was mostly tits too. I kissed her, letting her warm skin press against my chest. My bruises looked ugly, but Rory wasn’t deterred. She gently touched the purplish and blue stains, and I let her caress me. She studied my shoulder, and I reached behind to unhook her bra.

Her breasts spilled from the cups.

My cock couldn’t get any harder.

“One perk of the pregnancy.” Rory followed my gaze to her almost-vulgar assets. “I’m definitely more…defined than I once was.”

A woman that delicious should have been illegal. Christ, I’d be
blessed
to forget this sight after tonight. Nothing else would ever draw my attention away from her.

I brushed a hand along her curves. She nearly jumped. Her nipples budded, hard and tempting.

“Sensitive,” she whispered. “Be careful?”

I
never
let myself get overwhelmed by desire before, but now was a good time to try to distract those instincts. Baseball was too boring. I ran the audible calls in my head instead, struggling against that primal, bestial urge to seize her, take her, and lose myself within her.

My urges were tamed. I had to surrender to something.

I kissed her instead. Rory gave a whimper, letting me trace a path along her neck, her shoulder.