Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
I narrowed my eyes, the suspicion mine now.
Coach McCabe was at the party, too — the host of it all alongside Dick, the GM. He made his rounds, talking to each of the players with a little glint in his eye. I could tell he was disappointed they hadn’t gone all the way, and simultaneously proud of all they’d accomplished. I couldn’t imagine it, fighting that hard for months and getting so close only to fall a bit short.
But that was what I marveled at when it came to the professional athletes I worked with. They were resilient as hell, never feeling discouraged for long before they were on to the next game, the next season. It was inspiring.
I beamed with pride when Coach stopped by to talk to Carter, congratulating us on the upcoming birth before he told Carter that it had been a hell of a year for him. I loved the way my man stood straighter, not backing away from the praise but soaking in the fact that he’d earned it. He’d learned to take a compliment this season, to let it land instead of batting it away like a puck. I liked that growth almost as much as I liked watching him win a puck battle along the boards with a man twice his size.
But not nearly as much as I liked watching him writhe for me with that leather collar around his neck.
When the party had settled a bit, Carter tucked me under his arm and leaned down. “How’s she doing?”
“Practicing her slapshot,” I said, tapping my belly. “Either that or she’s discovered tap-dancing.”
He laughed, quiet and delighted. He did that a lot lately. “Of course she’s got a good slapshot. It’s genetic.”
“I hope she gets your patience,” I said. “And your incessant need to kill any stretch of silence with a joke, no matter the merit of it.”
“You love my jokes,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to my temple. “They’re a gift. And I’m patient because you taught me to be.”
“Because I didn’t entertain your pickup lines for years?”
“And because I know better than to come before you say I can,” he added salaciously in my ear.
I elbowed him with a grin, but slid under his arm next, hugging him tight.
In a couple months, our families would cross paths for the first time when his parents and my sister came to the baby shower the girls were throwing for me and Maven. I’d become close with Carter’s mom, accepting her gracious advice and support through the pregnancy. I was grateful for her, especially since my mom was nowhere to be found.
She and my father found out about my pregnancy after Carter and I attended Lacey’s wedding. Carter had let it slip when he was chatting with Cole and some of the guys from the firm, and it didn’t take long for news to travel in that circle.
It didn’t change anything, though.
My parents hadn’t spoken to me or Lacey, and as much as it pained us both, we resisted the urge to reach out. They were the parents. They were the ones who had messed up. It was on them to make it right, and at this point, I was unsure if they ever could.
And so, me and my sister clung to each other for dear life, vowing to build a new family together.
Across the deck, Chloe waved me over with the urgency of someone who had discovered something vital on her phone. “Baby clothes,” she announced, thrusting the screen toward me as I regretfully parted from Carter with a squeeze of my hand, his holding fast to mine until he had no choice but to drop it. “Tell me this isn’t the cutest dress you’ve ever seen. I think I could make something like it, but I might cry in the process.”
“Well, I’m pregnant,” I said, taking her phone to see the bright rainbow dress more clearly once I reached her. “I cry at Subaru commercials. But yes, that is…something.”
“Wait until you see the tiny Ospreys jersey Mia found,” Chloe said, taking her phone back.
Mia popped up beside us as if summoned, her own phone out, a picture already loaded — a custom white infant jersey with FABRI printed across the back and a soft pink number 00. “I know she won’t wear it for a while,” she said sheepishly, “but I couldn’t resist.”
“I love you,” I told her, and I meant it. I loved them all. I loved the way they’d woven themselves around me this year, the way they’d heard me when I told them the truth, the way they’d held me up without pity when I confessed the worst thing that ever happened to me and the second worst thing that followed. I loved the way they’d cheered for my boundaries, the way they’d offered to be my stand-in family at every milestone from now until forever.