Personal Foul (Moving the Chains Book 6)

by Kata Čuić

  “Everything looks great,” she announces just as my lungs burn from holding my breath. “You’re on track for your delivery in late February.”

  This might be the first time in my life that I hope my team doesn’t make the playoffs. I don’t want anything to get in the way of being by Amira’s side when she gives birth to…our daughter. It’s going to take a solid month of preparations. We need time to get the nursery ready.

  “A girl,” she chokes out. “I’m having a girl.”

  I kiss her forehead and brush away the tears sliding down her cheeks. “She’s going to be so loved. She already is.”

  It’s the closest I can get to saying the words scorching my throat. I would rather chew off my own tongue than ruin this moment by being selfish.

  Amira glances up at me. There’s still so much hesitation in her eyes.

  I have my work cut out for me, but I’m not backing down. Never again.

  “She is loved,” Amira agrees. “She’s going to have an amazing life. If she wants to play with dolls, then she can play with dolls. If she wants to play with trucks, then she’ll have a roomful of them.”

  I laugh. I see where she’s going with this, and I’m on board. “We’ll support her, no matter what she’s into or wants to do. We’ll give her unconditional love and acceptance, even if she’s nothing like us.”

  “What if she dyes her hair black, pierces her tongue, and wants tattoos?” Amira asks with a smirk.

  “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but she’s probably going to have black hair anyway. If she wants to bleach it and cover her body in ink and piercings, we’ll still love her.” I grin. “What if she turns out to be an atheist lesbian?”

  It’s the polar opposite of what Amira’s parents demand from her.

  “We’ll never force her to go to Church,” Amira promises. “We’ll welcome our daughter-in-law with open arms. The only requirement for a life partner is more unconditional love and support.”

  My job revolves around Sundays. I can’t actually remember the last time I attended Mass. I haven’t stepped inside a Church since Rob and Evie’s wedding. That brings up another good point, even though I already know Amira’s answer. “What if she doesn’t want to get married?”

  “She will never be forced into something she doesn’t want,” Amira swears.

  I grin. No arranged marriages for our daughter.

  Amira’s fierce expression fades into something else. Something heartbreaking when this moment should be nothing but happy. “She can do and be whatever she wants and love whomever she wants. She’ll never be in this position. Not if I can help it.”

  The smile on the tech’s face slides away as she cuts a quick glance at us. Even though Amira introduced me as the father, this lady’s expression studies me like she’s going to ask Amira if she needs help when I’m told to leave the room for a few minutes.

  Which pisses me off. Because it’s obviously common enough to warrant the suspicion. There were pamphlets in the waiting room about how to escape an abusive relationship safely.

  I straighten my shoulders and meet the tech’s gaze. “I know how that must’ve sounded. I can step out if you need to ask her some questions.”

  She nods, her mouth tight. “Maybe that would be for the best.”

  Amira’s gaze ping-pongs between us until she finally catches on. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t what I meant at all! He doesn’t hurt me! My parents hate him because they wanted me to have an arranged marriage.” After a few baby girl heartbeats of awkward silence, Amira rushes on, “He gives me the best orgasms of my life whenever I want, as often as I want! He spoils me rotten. This man gave me his credit card the week before my parents came to visit and told me to go wild decorating the house!”

  The tech’s mouth forms an O. “The whole unconditional love and support thing makes more sense now. Okay. You two can go back to being my favorite expecting couple.”

  As much as I want to puff out my chest about the orgasm confession to a total stranger, I’m even more pissed that this tech can be thrown off the trail with some shiny TMI reveals. What if I was a piece of garbage? Then, what? Where would Amira and our baby girl be?

  “After we leave, call the police and demand a welfare check,” I tell her in all seriousness. “Our address should be in the file. Tell them you’re worried about a patient, but you couldn’t do anything to keep her from leaving with a guy you think might be abusing her.”

  Both women snap their confused gazes to me.

  “Pardon me?” The tech coughs out.

  “You were suspicious at first,” I insist. My heart thuds in my chest and sweat pricks my skin. “Trust your gut. Don’t brush off your instincts. If this was really a bad situation, you shouldn’t do anything to make me angrier, or that would maybe make me take it out on her once we get to the car. Still. This pregnant woman is going to be leaving with me in a few minutes. That doesn’t mean you can’t help her and the baby later. Call the people whose job it is to deescalate violent situations. It’s a safer way of helping a vulnerable woman without putting yourself in danger.”

  The tech blinks at me.

  I maintain my gaze, trying to make her get it with just my heavy stare.

  A soft touch to my hand pulls my attention away.

  “Alex…” Amira’s eyes bore into me. She sees me. Sees through me. “It wasn’t your fault. You were only eighteen. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”

  “But, it did happen. I don’t want it to happen again.”

  She smiles up at me and drags my hand against her cheek. “I know you don’t.”

  The tech clears her throat as she swipes a towel against Amira’s stomach. “We’re all done here. I’ll have some pictures waiting for you at the front desk that you can take home with you.”

  “Thank you,” Amira murmurs.

  I help her sit up then she readjusts her shirt as the door closes behind the tech. She practically runs from the room. Better be to make a fucking phone call.

  The secretary hands us a manila folder when we check out at the front. She barely meets my eyes which is weird. I’m used to people staring at me all the time, either because they recognize me from an ad or they’re football fans. Obviously, our ultrasound tech spread the word about my behavior.

  I’m honestly disappointed when we step out into the parking lot to find no cop cars in sight.

  I squint against the sunlight and look up and down the street. Nothing.

  “She took your advice,” Amira insists, holding up the same pamphlet I saw in the waiting room. She must have slipped it in with the ultrasound pictures.

  “No, she didn’t,” I scoff. “What the hell is a piece of paper going to do to help? Unless the police show up at our house later tonight, she didn’t do shit.”

  Amira frowns.

  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in there.” I swipe at the back of my neck. I’m sweating like a pig. Then again, it’s ninety in the shade today, and we’re standing in the middle of an asphalt parking lot. The sun beats down on us from above and reflects back up off the black surface.

  Amira places a hand on my chest where my heart’s still trashing too hard, considering we’re standing still. Her lips brush against mine once, twice, a third time before she commits to the kiss. She swipes her tongue inside my mouth, then along my lower lip before pulling back.

  “I can embarrass you all day, every day if that’s my punishment.”

  She smiles. She’s so fucking beautiful. “Why would I ever dream of punishing a man who loves so fiercely, loyally, and deeply? You could never embarrass me, Alex Fossoway. I’m so proud to know you. So grateful that you’re going to be an amazing father who will do everything in his power to protect this baby girl.”

  I wrap my arms around Amira and pull her close. Her belly has just started getting in the way. I grin at the space between us. “I’m going to buy her a pony, and a Barbie Power Wheels jeep, and a princess castle bed, and—
”

  Amira slaps a hand over my mouth. “I’m more worried about you buying a shotgun to keep any and all men away from her.”

  “I hope she’s a lesbian,” I mumble through Amira’s fingers. “One less thing to worry about.”

  That’s not true though. Predators are everywhere.

  I unlock the car with the fob and open the door to help Amira climb into the passenger seat. My Lamborghini looks really conspicuous here. I’m surprised we haven’t been mobbed by low-level photographers or fans yet.

  “Maybe I’ll stay home Friday,” I think aloud as I turn over the ignition. “We should go out and celebrate and buy a bunch of pink shit.”

  Amira turns to me after fastening her seat belt. “You already told them you’d go. They’re your family, and this is their first child. You already bought a gift for the baby shower.”

  I shrug then slip on my Ray-Bans before pulling out into traffic. “I can always mail the gift. It’s a day trip all the way across the country during the season. They’ll understand if I decide not to go.”

  “Alex,” Amira murmurs.

  “Seriously. It’s a six-hour flight each way. I’m only gonna see them for a few hours before I’ve gotta turn right back around and get home in time to report to the hotel on Saturday for the game.”

  “You can’t be with me all the time,” Amira insists with a soft voice. “You won’t be able to be with her all the time once she’s born. I know you don’t like to talk about it, but it’s time to confront the anxieties that you’ve kept on the backburner for years.”

  I glance at Amira out of the corner of my eye. “I thought you said you couldn’t be my shrink?”

  “I shouldn’t,” she replies immediately. “I can’t be objective with you. That doesn’t mean you can’t talk about it with me as your friend.”

  Is she fucking serious right now? “I think you mean as the mother of my child.”

  “As the mother of the child we will share, yes,” she concedes. “You’re already being more than generous by stepping up to give her a father figure she wouldn’t have otherwise. I don’t want you to worry yourself sick over a role you’re not even required to play.”

  It is really fucking hard to stay calm even though I’m behind the wheel, driving through downtown Orlando with precious cargo. “I want this. If you would just let me talk to you about the things you don’t want to confront, then maybe you’d quit thinking this is some kind of game to me.”

  She sighs and rubs her forehead. “We don’t have to talk about it. You felt what you felt, and I was happy for you. Truly. I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted, but she made her choice. You’re moving on. I understand that. Now, you see. There is nothing left to discuss.”

  I might believe that, except… “It carved a special place in my chest to watch Zack fuck you that night.”

  It’s the closest thing I have to offer up for comparison. I don’t think Amira ever really loved her first boyfriend that I introduced her to in college, but she sure as shit never had to watch me fuck Evie. Partly because she never had an opportunity. Mostly because it never happened.

  Amira blows out a gust of breath. She glances out the window. “It’s in the past. I haven’t talked to him in years. We lost touch after I moved to California.”

  “I’m still in touch with Evie. And Rob. I have a flight booked for their baby shower on Friday. If you tell me to cut them off, I’ll do it.” I can’t say it more plainly than that. I’m in this for the long haul. I’ll do whatever it takes for her to give us a real chance.

  “I’m not going to tell you to do that,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. “You wouldn’t be the amazing man you are—I wouldn’t accept you as a surrogate father for my child—if you weren’t so capable of deep, abiding love for someone other than yourself.”

  “Then, when we get home from work tonight, spend hours telling me all about some guy you fell in love with.” It’s lame, but it’s all I’ve got. An eye for an eye.

  She chuckles. “So, you want me to lie to you?”

  I’d rather she tells me she loves me, but until we get past this hurdle, that’s not going to happen. I don’t blame her.

  “I don’t love her anymore.”

  Amira turns her head slowly.

  I keep my gaze on the road, but I feel her black eyes boring into me.

  “Now, you’re lying to me.”

  It’s true. I am. It didn’t even sound remotely genuine.

  I nose into my parking spot at the Sharks complex and shut down the engine. “You’re right, and I don’t want to lie to you. I’ll always love her. Same as I’ll always love Rob and Mike. We leaned on each other when we couldn’t talk to anyone else. When the shit hit the fan, we closed ranks. I’d give my life for any of those people. I can’t change that.”

  She smiles at me, but there are tears in her eyes. “I don’t want you to change. You are so much more than you let people see, and I’m honored to be given a glimpse behind the curtain you hide behind. I’m honored that one of the best men I know wants to be a father to my baby.”

  “Our baby,” I beg. I am not above begging when it comes to this woman. “I thought when you graduated that I was never going to see you again. If I knew then what I know now—”

  She places a hand over my mouth. It’s a habit I’m really starting to hate.

  “Don’t. Don’t cheapen what you finally allowed yourself to feel for a woman by wishing to take it back. I don’t want that for you.”

  I kiss her hand then pull it down to my lap. “Don’t you get it, sweetheart? I feel that for you.”

  She rolls her lips in between her teeth and stares at my mouth instead of my eyes. “I’ve only been back in your life for a few months. I’m pregnant, and one of the wonderful things about you is how you always jump in to help whenever help is needed. I need help right now, and you’re giving it to me. Thank you.” She raises her black gaze. “That being said, this is an emotionally charged time. I don’t want either of us to confuse genuine feelings for a compulsion to take action. Things are easy right now. Once she arrives, you might decide this isn’t the life you want after all. You never wanted it before, and there’s no shame in that. Let’s just…” She blows out another breath. “Keep the status quo. We can revisit this conversation in a few months.”

  I can live with that. If she thinks I’m going to bolt when things get rough, then she’s in for a surprise. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” She seems surprised I’m even agreeing to her request.

  “Yeah. I’m gonna make you fall in love with me, Amira Deep. Even if it takes the rest of my life.”

  She tries to hide her smile with a frown. “That’s stalker behavior, Alex. You, of all people, should know better.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised she’s going for my jugular. She’s always been the devil with a great rack. “You’re going to make me work harder than I ever have in my life for this, aren’t you?”

  She chuckles as she climbs out of the car. “Why would I want anything less than your best?”

  I snag one of the pictures from the envelope as we head inside the building. I’m going to show it to the guys then tape it to my locker.

  Time to go to work.

  Alex’s wild, unabashed laughter fills the living room. It likely fills the whole house. Watching him watch a movie is far more entertaining than the movie itself.

  “You are really enjoying this.”

  He grins at me before the smile slides off his handsome face. “You’re not? Why didn’t you say something? I can find a different movie that we’ll both like.”

  I smile at his eagerness to please me. What woman wouldn’t be flattered by so much attention? “I like this show just fine.”

  He squints an eye. “If I asked you for a synopsis of everything that’s happened so far, would you even be able to tell me the opening scene?”

  “I would,” I insist. “A hardworking man comes home from his grueling job. He’s alrea
dy arranged dinner delivery since no one who works a modern career has time to cook. He goes about his evening chores of cleaning the litter box, taking out the trash, and checking the stock of pickles in the refrigerator. All while humming a catchy tune to himself. He makes time to play with the pet that he claims not to like much.”

  Alex smirks at where Pavlov’s curled up against him. “I never said I didn’t like cats. You’re the one who assumed I’m a dog person because of Jimmy’s hilarious draft day gift.”

  I still think that dog statue near the fireplace is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen, but I appreciate the sentiment behind the gift. Alex even made me watch the episode of the sitcom that it references, so I would fully understand the gesture.

  He’s right. It’s hilarious.

  The relationship Alex shares with all his brothers makes me a little jealous. Not only do I not have any siblings, but I was also never given the opportunity to foster close relationships with peers outside my parents’ sphere of influence. I never had much in common with all the Lebanese kids who were eager to maintain their cultural heritage.

  The flames from the fireplace dance in Alex’s eyes. He’s enjoying this praise.

  “That same man lit the fireplace for what I’m guessing is the first time ever simply because I said it would be a relaxing way to spend a Friday evening at home. He dimmed the lights and chose a movie and made me a snack. So, yes. I’m enjoying this show very much.”

  Alex’s expression curdles. “It’s not pickles dipped in chocolate sauce, but popcorn drizzled with pickle juice is still weird.”

  “I never even cared for pickles before,” I confess. “As far as pregnancy cravings go, it seems rather tame compared to your examples.”

  “Those were examples from TV.” He rolls his eyes. “Everyone knows that’s not realistic.”

  Alex absolutely doesn’t prefer fantasy over reality. He also doesn’t deal with reality all that well. Not that I have any room to judge his coping skills. I’ve been coping through orgasms and denial. The third trimester of pregnancy creeps closer every day. Though I promised myself I wouldn’t rock the safety of this life raft, I’m also not as content with the status quo as I’d like to be. Once the baby arrives, I don’t want any loose ends hanging over my head.