The Friend Zone

by Kristen Callihan

  “Is this because you’re gonna be Man Mountain’s baby mama?”

  “Jerk,” I mutter but glance up at her. “But, yes. I mean, here I was, life plan finally making sense. I’m in love with the best guy in the world, and now…boom! Guess, what, genius, you’re knocked up!”

  Fi pulls up another section of hair to braid. “Not to mention Dad is going to shit puppies when he finds out. Mom will probably bake a ten-tiered stress cake, then kick it.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you suck at commiserating?”

  “You. Like, tons of times. Which makes me wonder why you keep talking to me.”

  I frown but cuddle closer into her lap. “Seriously, Fi, what am I going to do? It’s all funny to call me a baby mama, but isn’t that what I am? God, how many prenup contracts have we seen Dad draw up for this shit?” I laugh without humor before pressing my hand to my hot eyes. “I’m a fucking cliché.”

  “You are not! Gray is crazy about you. Do not put yourself in that category of sad female who tries to trap an athlete through pregnancy.”

  “But people will think—”

  “Whatever the fuck they want to think. Their opinion means dick-all.”

  We’re both quiet. Despite my inner turmoil, I feel better. Fi is the comfort of my childhood and the one person, aside from Gray, who I can say anything to.

  “Do you want this baby, Ivy?” Fi’s voice is soft, almost hesitant.

  “I think Gray does.”

  “Really?” Fi makes a surprised chuckle. “Huh.”

  “He gets this look in his eyes. Like he’s excited. Happy.” That look makes my insides melt and my hormones kick into high gear, and I have to fight not to cry. Even now my smile is wobbly. “It’s kind of cute.”

  “And you?”

  I sigh and turn my head to give her access to the rest of my hair. “Fuck if I know. I don’t feel ready. But then it’s Gray and me, and I can’t…” I swallow hard. Twice. “I just don’t know, Fi.”

  Her hand comes to rest on my cheek. “Talk to Gray about it.”

  My vision blurs hot and wet. “That’s the problem, Fi. I’m afraid that if we disagree on the decision, I’ll lose him.”

  I turn and press my face into her belly, hiding in the dark. I think of my life, how it began. Fi doesn’t know everything. I can’t even say everything. “I don’t want Gray to be with me based on obligation.”

  The real fear is that I’ll lose him regardless. Nothing good ever came from being forced into life-altering decisions.

  Twenty-Eight

  Ivy

  Gray won’t be spending Christmas with me. His team has to leave for New Orleans the Monday before to get ready for their bowl game. Two weeks he’ll be gone. And because I know I’ll be a distraction to him, I’m waiting until New Year’s Eve to join him there.

  So Gray and I make our own Christmas early with Fi, whose boyfriend has gone home for the holiday.

  Fi has decorated our small house with such enthusiasm it looks like Santa’s elves have invaded us during the night. Every doorway is fringed with lighted garland. Tiny novelty houses grace the sideboards. A big—pink—Christmas tree, hung with little glittering footballs and helmets and miniature pink Fiats, sits in the corner.

  Gray has a good laugh over that. “Awesome tree.”

  “It’s deranged,” I murmur.

  “It’s kitsch,” Fi stresses. “And it’s fabulous.”

  “Where in the hell did you get these little Fiat ornaments?” I ask, truly impressed.

  Fi grins wide. “The internet is a wild and wonderful place, my friends.”

  “It needs one thing,” Gray says before bounding into my bedroom. His grin is evil as he jogs back. Fi shrieks when she sees that he’s holding the tiny Tinker Bell doll I had sitting on my dresser, but I laugh. I’d told Gray once that it reminded me of Fi.

  He doesn’t even have to stretch to reach the top of the tree. “There.” He nestles the little Tinker Bell on the upmost branch. “A teeny Fiona to watch over us.”

  “Asshole,” my sister mutters, then laughs.

  We exchange gifts first, and I love Gray even more for giving one to Fi too. His gift is a pair of novelty Fiona the Ogre slippers. Which Fi uses to bat his head with. But I can tell she loves them. It’s not like Fi is any better, giving Gray a T-shirt that says Man Meat across the chest.

  Gray grows flustered when he hands me my gift. “It’s not much. I’ll do extravagant next year.”

  Clutching the thin package to my chest, I give him a swift kiss. “Quiet, Cupcake. Let me enjoy my present.”

  “All right,” he says, flushing. “I’ll shut up.”

  I tear open the wrapping and find a tiny silver four-leaf-clover pendant lies in a long black box.

  “For luck in your new career,” he says quietly as he puts it on me.

  “It’s perfect,” I tell him with a kiss.

  Gray fairly tackles me when he opens my gift to him, a blue enamel Le Creuset Dutch oven, which is extravagant but something I’ve wanted to give him for a while. “I’m gonna cook you short ribs and brisket,” he promises between kisses. “And stew, and pot roast, and goulash…”

  “We get it,” Fi cuts in, annoyed. “Now stop mauling my sister before I vomit.”

  For dinner, Drew, Anna, and Gray’s closest teammates come over. Gray cooks us meatballs—Norwegian, not Swedish—and potatoes, which he says is a Grayson Christmas tradition. Dex acts as his sous chef and they spend the time bickering over Dex’s knife skills, while the rest of us snicker in the living room.

  The guys treat me as if I’m one of them now, joking and randomly tousling my hair like I’m their kid sister. Gray has told Drew I’m pregnant, which means Anna knows by extension. They don’t mention it, but they’re careful to offer me apple cider when one of them grabs a beer. And I keep getting goofy grins from each of them at some point during dinner.

  I don’t really mind; after all, I had told Fi about it, but it drives home the fact that I have a decision to make, and I need to do it sooner rather than later. Just thinking about it leaves me with the urge to run to my mother and hide away under her arm, which feels vaguely ironic, given that I’m considering motherhood.

  As if he can hear me mentally worrying, Gray turns his head and catches my eye. A soft smile curls his lips, and he kisses my forehead. “No worries tonight, Ivy Mac.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder for a moment. “Okay.”

  “So,” Fi says, as I serve sticky-toffee pudding for desert. “Is there some standard thing to say to wish you guys luck on your game?”

  “What, like a superstition?” Drew asks.

  Fi nods.

  “Good luck works for me.” Dex’s tone is uncharacteristically gruff, but I don’t miss the way his gaze keeps sliding toward Fi when she’s not looking. He sees me watching and promptly tucks into his pudding.

  I don’t know much about the big center, other than he’s quiet, the team’s captain, and likes to paint. Bearded and tatted along his muscled arms, with a shock of wild brown hair that grows thick on his head, he’s hot in a broody, lumbersexual kind of way. Because, yeah, I can totally see him rocking a plaid shirt and chopping some wood. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, I turn my attention elsewhere.

  For the rest of the dinner, I have fun. Only Gray seems off, his voice louder than usual when he tells a joke, his muscles tight, even when I put a hand on his neck and rub it. But he leans in close and whispers in my ear. “After these guys leave, I’m taking you out for a ride. I have a surprise.”

  I waggle my brows. “Color me intrigued.”

  “You’ll see soon enough.” Gray flashes a quick smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. And I wonder if we’re both trying too hard to be brave.

  * * *

  Gray refuses to tell me where we’re going or why, or even give me a hint, which leaves me with all sorts of ideas, none of them based in reality. I’m up to guessing it’s a ride in the Goodyear blimp when
we enter the campus.

  He parks in front of the stadium, and my excitement turns to confusion. “Why are we here? If you think I’m playing some random game of midnight touch football on a full stomach, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “No football, I promise.” He’s grinning like a kid on a snow day. “You’ll see. Come on.”

  Taking my hand, he leads me to one of the stadium’s side entrances.

  “Are we allowed to be here?”

  Gray’s texting something on his phone, but gives me a quick look. “Now, Mac, you know me better. Of course not.”

  I huff, but then the door opens and a security guard waves us in.

  “Thanks, Rufus,” Gray says.

  Rufus, an older, portly gentleman, give a gruff nod. “Just remember our deal and clean up after yourselves.”

  “What was the promise?” I ask as we walk farther into the stadium and Rufus ambles off, his large frame waddling slightly.

  “Tickets to the bowl game and that I don’t trash the place.”

  “Ah.” I trot alongside Gray, whose hand has become slightly damp. He glances down at me a few times, his smile tight but his eyes shining as though excited.

  All questions stop when I see the soft glow in the center of the field. A nest of blankets has been laid out along with a basket, camp lantern, and, a little ways away, a small heater.

  Gray leads me to the spot. “I wanted to give you your last present here.”

  “I get another present?” I sit on the blankets, curling my legs under me so that he has room. “Gimme.”

  Gray laughs but pulls a carafe out of the basket. “Cocoa first.”

  The little heater provides warmth, but not as much as Gray’s big body. I snuggle against him and drink cocoa. The dark stadium is still and quiet, the high, slanting sides looming up around us. Only a few lights by each end zone are on, shining a harsh, bluish white. “It kind of feels like we’re in the bowels of a space ship.”

  Gray shifts closer, and his chin rests against my shoulder. “I guess it kind of does now. I’ve never been here when it’s dark like this.” I feel his head turn and know he’s looking around. His voice lowers to reverence. “To me, it’s a cathedral. I sit here and I feel calm, centered. And yet it’s like all the energy of games past remains, coursing through my veins, and I can’t wait for the next game.” My hand finds his, and I hold it as he continues. “I don’t even think it matters what stadium I’m in. It just feels right.” Soft lips brush along my neck. “The same way you feel right.”

  This man. He does it for me in every way. I turn and kiss him, loving that I can. That he’s mine. Gray’s fingers thread through my hair to cup the back of my head as he deepens the kiss, tasting me like it’s the first time. Heat flares over my skin, but he pulls back, his breath coming a little faster. He gives me one more soft peck. “Love you, Ivy Mac.”

  “Love you, Cupcake.”

  Gray takes a deep breath, his nose against my hair as if he’s taking in my scent. Then he gives himself a little shake. “Okay. Present.” He fumbles around in the basket, his shoulders inching up, and it hits me that he’s nervous. Really nervous.

  Which makes me nervous. When he turns, he’s so tight the muscles along his thighs bulge against his jeans. “Ivy…”

  My attention drifts to the little black box he holds. Shit. I can’t move. My heart slams against my ribs.

  Gray sits back on his heels, facing me. With shaking hands, he opens the box. The ring is gorgeous, an Art Deco design of three flat, emerald-cut diamonds on a platinum band.

  I stare at it, numb inside, then look back at Gray. His whole heart is in his eyes. The corner of his mouth quirks, trembling a little. I just want to hug him close, only I’m frozen.

  “This was my mom’s,” he says. “The only tangible thing I have left of her. Seeing it on your finger would give me joy.”

  “Gray…” I swallow hard. “What—”

  He quiets me with a squeeze of my hand. “Ivy Jane Mackenzie, I want to marry you. I want you to be my family. And I’ll be yours.” He looks at me with hope and longing. “Say yes?”

  Shock has punched the breath out of me. I’d feared this. Yet, his words, the look in his eyes, makes me want to hug him close. Which makes it harder to answer.

  “I can’t.”

  He winces but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Why?”

  He says it so reasonably, as if I’d refused another cup of cocoa. A choked laugh leaves me. “Ah. Because we’re twenty-two, for one thing.”

  “Pretty sure lots of twenty-two-year-olds get married, Mac.”

  Yeah, and I’m pretty sure I know why he wants to marry me. I love him for it. And I hate him for it. Grinding my teeth, I struggle to think of something to say to make him understand. “You’re the best college tight end I’ve ever seen.”

  Gray cocks his head to the side. “Okay, not what I was expecting. Is there a point to this?”

  “You could go number one.”

  “I hope so.” His bronze brow lifts as if I’ve lost my nut. “Again, your point?”

  “That’s a lot to take in. Worrying about a wife shouldn’t be part of it.”

  With a curse, Gray looks off, his glare focused on the yellow uprights down the field. When his gaze returns to me, his focus is so intense, I feel it in my belly. “Were you planning to dump me, Ivy? When I’m thrust into this so-called awesome life?”

  His anger vibrates through me. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then why bring this up? And what about your wants and needs?”

  “I am thinking about that.” I don’t want to be proposed to for the wrong reasons.

  “So you don’t want me in your life come Draft Day?” he shoots back, his eyes wide and hurt.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then tell me what you do mean, Ivy.”

  “I was a mistake,” I blurt out.

  Gray blinks, his expression pinched. “A mistake? What? You think I view you as a mistake?”

  “No.” I take a breath. “I was an accidental pregnancy. My parents were only dating when Mom became pregnant. She was supposed to go back to England, not stay here. They got married because of me.” The irony is a twist in my guts.

  For a second, Gray just stares. Then he reaches for me and I’m cuddled tight against his chest. “Honey, no. No.”

  Burrowing closer, I clutch his waist. “How can you say no when you don’t even understand what I mean?”

  “Because I know you.” He leans back a little to look me in the eye. “You think we’re like them? That I’m asking you because I feel obligated? Fuck no.” His fingers trace my jaw. “We’re nothing like them. First off, we’re not dating.” His mouth twists like it’s an ugly word. “We’re together, as in I wake up every morning and think, ‘Thank fuck, Ivy wants me. How can I persuade her to keep me forever?’”

  I snort and lean my head against his chest. “I do want you,” I whisper. “But that doesn’t mean we have to get married. Don’t ask me because of this pregnancy. That would be the very worst way to start a marriage. You’ll regret it, Gray. Trust me.”

  Gray blows out a frustrated breath. “Did your dad ever say why he cheated?”

  Caught off guard, the answer tumbles out of me. “He said he felt like it was his due. Women and fame.”

  “Well, that’s not me. I’ve had that already and just…” He shakes his head. “No. I’m twenty-two and I feel like an old man with that shit. The thought of fooling around like that again exhausts me, makes me ill. I haven’t even looked at another woman since we started texting. Because I only want you. With or without a baby, I want you, Mac. Just you.”

  “But you’re asking me to marry you, Gray.”

  “Uh, yeah, and you keep rejecting me, damn it.” He laughs, but the vulnerability in his voice guts me.

  My palm spreads over his heart. “Are you going to tell me that you’d have asked if I wasn’t pregnant?”

  His chest l
ifts on a sigh, and he peers down at me, his blue eyes dark. “Ivy, you woke me up. I thought I was living each day to the fullest but it was bullshit. I was playing a part, being a joker. And I didn’t know it.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  He frowns. “You think I’d planned to let you go? That was never going to happen. Yeah, I’m asking sooner because of this. Because it gives me an excuse to do it. Fuck, Ivy, deep down I knew you were it for me from the beginning. Only I’d look crazy if I said it so soon.”

  My smile is wobbly. “Not crazy.”

  Gray cups my cheeks and presses his forehead against mine. “So say yes.”

  “Gray… The first year of marriage is supposed to be the hardest. And that’s without the pressure of caring for a baby. It’s a recipe for disaster.”

  “I like a challenge.” Gray gives my shoulders a squeeze. “If anything, I should be worried. You’ve only had one crap experience and then me. Who’s to say you aren’t the one who gets bored?”

  “I find that idea laughable. I’m never bored when I’m with you.”

  His smile is crooked. “Yeah, well, same here.” Gray leans a little closer, bringing his warmth. “I told you we’d be so fucking good together. And I’m never wrong about these things.”

  I can’t help drawing closer, nipping the clean curve of his jaw. “Know-it-all.”

  “You know it,” he murmurs as his mouth chases mine. His kiss is tender.

  When he pulls back, we grin at each other. But the shaky, nervous feeling returns, and I take a breath. “But, Gray, marriage? I can barely get past this whole being-knocked-up thing and, hell, I don’t know…”

  Gray runs his fingers along the fringe of my bangs. Calming me. “Look, I know it feels like everything is happening too fast. I probably just made it worse. Shit. We don’t have to get married. It’s just I wanted to give this ring to you. To show you what you mean to me. That I have your back. Always.”

  Sitting in its little black box, the ring shines, the diamonds clean as ice and winking. Gray glances at it then back to me. “It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring if that scares you. Wear it because we’re together. Wear it because I love you.” He rubs the back of his neck, his skin flushed. “That is if you want to. Hell, I’ve fumbled this whole thing—”