Decidedly With Baby (By the Bay Book 2)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  Were he and Simon still calling Josh the Sperm Donor?

  Not at all. That ended right after I joined Chris in the land of black sheep. If anything, my brothers tended to call him just to check up on me, and the three of them had become friends.

  Would my brothers whip Josh’s arse if he did anything to hurt me?

  You’d better believe it. That much hadn’t changed.

  We chatted for a few minutes—until my congestion kicked in and I could no longer talk. I handed Josh the phone, at Chris’s request, and left to hit the loo.

  Josh had finished talking to him by the time I returned. He didn’t say anything about the call—just kissed me on the forehead and waited while I called Simon.

  “Mum showed me Noah’s ultrasound picture,” Simon told me after we had been chatting for a few minutes. “As far as I can tell, he’s gonna be quite the handsome little ankle biter. Definitely takes after his favorite uncle.”

  “She did?” I said, not really hearing what he had told me after the first part. Even though I knew what she thought about my pregnancy, I had sent her and Dad a copy of the ultrasound picture. On the back I had written, Noah wishes you a Merry Christmas!

  I had included it with a Christmas card from me and Josh but figured she had probably ripped it up and tossed it in the trash.

  “Yes,” Simon said. “And I think she’s coming around. About the baby, I mean.”

  That was hard to believe.

  “One of my colleagues is having a baby,” he went on to say. “Or at least his wife is. And he said babies can hear voices from outside the mum’s stomach.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So can I talk to Noah?”

  My eyebrows shot up my forehead. “You mean right now?”

  “Yes, right now.”

  I hiked up my top, revealing my belly, increased the volume on the phone, and placed it near my belly button. “Okay, you can talk to Noah now.”

  “Hey, little mate,” Simon said. “I’m your super-cool Uncle Simon. I know you’ll probably think Chris is cooler because he can fly helicopters—and I guess that is pretty cool, if heights don’t scare you.” Simon wasn’t a fan of heights. “But I can teach you all kinds of things that Uncle Chris can’t. Like surfing.”

  After he finished speaking to Noah, we talked for a short while longer, then ended the call.

  Next up? Calling my parents.

  But because talking to my brothers had taken so much out of me, Josh and I watched The Princess Diaries first.

  Afterward, I did the one thing I’d been dreading the most for the past couple of days. I pulled Mum up from my contact list and tapped on Call.

  Why Mum and not Dad?

  Maybe because if I didn’t phone her first, I’d chicken out.

  “Holly?” Mum’s voice sounded uncertain as she answered.

  “I wanted to wish you and Dad a Merry Christmas.” Hopefully she understood what I’d said. Thanks to my cold, even my brothers hadn’t understood everything I’d told them.

  Naturally, they thought it was funny.

  “Merry Christmas to you.” She still sounded uncertain. “How are you and Noah doing?”

  Noah? Not the baby?

  Did I know what to make of it? Had the Titanic been hit by an ice cube?

  “We’re doing fine. He’s kicking a lot. I think he’s just excited to see his bedroom, which Josh decorated for him.” I smiled at my sweet and wonderful boyfriend next to me on the couch.

  “So you’re still with him—the football player?” Her tone was derision free. Another surprise.

  “Hockey, Mum. Josh plays ice hockey.”

  “Right. Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, that’s a yes.”

  “Are you two getting married?” Again her tone was neutral.

  Since I knew his opinion on the topic of marriage, I simply said, “No.”

  Truth? I would’ve had a better answer if my head wasn’t about to explode from congestion.

  Never a pleasant way to go.

  Mom was silent for a moment before saying, “You know, if things don’t work out between you two, you can always move back here. Then you’ll have someone around to help you. Lots of someones. Me. Your brothers. Your father.”

  The surprising part? She actually sounded like she meant it.

  “Thanks, but I really do love it here and I have a great job.” And somehow, I would make everything work.

  Feeling a sneeze steamrolling toward me, I grabbed a tissue just in time. “Achoo!”

  And for a millisecond, my brain didn’t feel so clogged.

  Too bad the joyful sensation didn’t last long.

  “I’ve got to go now, Mum,” I said, although I was positive I didn’t have to tell her I was dying and wished to do so sooner rather than later. Preferably while watching The Sound of Music.

  We said our good-byes, and I promised to keep her updated about Noah and me.

  Disappointed? Were you expecting some grand gesture from my mum to mend the fractured bridges between us?

  Fortunately, I knew her better than that. For her, everything she had said and the fact she had shown Simon the ultrasound was a grand gesture.

  While I went to the loo again, Josh made dinner for us. What was on the menu?

  More chicken noodle soup (because that was all I wanted to eat) and spaghetti and meatballs (mostly for Josh).

  And for dessert?

  You guessed it—brownies and whipped cream.

  But not just any brownies. These came from Maggie’s Bakery, which was well-known for their super-chocolaty brownies. They were easily the best brownies in the entire universe.

  Boyfriend brownie points earned so far? Well, the dessert alone was worth at least two thousand. Between that, the soup, the Julie Andrews movie marathon, Josh staying in San Francisco instead of flying out east for Christmas, and what he did for Noah’s room, he had enough points to last him a few years short of an eternity.

  Not that I was about to tell him.

  We ate dinner while watching Mary Poppins—because there was no better movie around to teach you about hiring a nanny.

  By the time we were finished, I was surprised Josh hadn’t left the apartment screaming from OD’ing on Miss Andrews. To make it up to him, I let him pick whatever he wanted to watch on Netflix.

  At some point I fell asleep, my head on his shoulder—positive life couldn’t get much better than this.

  Eventually, my super-comfy pillow moved and I stirred awake.

  “Hey, Merry Christmas,” Josh said softly.

  I peered through tired eyes at the DVD clock. Midnight.

  Using Josh’s arm as leverage, I pushed myself up to sit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. How long have I been sleeping for?”

  “An hour and a half.”

  “You didn’t watch any more Julie Andrews movies while I was sleeping, did you?” I said, with barely enough energy to give him a half smirk.

  “No, I figured you’d kill me if I did.”

  “Damn straight I would.”

  Josh kissed my forehead. “All right, sleepyhead. Let’s get you to bed.” He started to move off the couch.

  “Not yet. I want you to open your present from me.”

  Like a young kid on Christmas morning, his face brightened. “Well, considering it’s Christmas in Australia, I can go for that.”

  Several presents sat under the tree, but there was one gift that hadn’t been there before. A gift that was slightly larger than a ring box.

  Josh removed the present and handed it to me. “Merry Christmas.”

  I shuffled over to the tree and picked up my present to Josh, my hand shaking slightly.

  You know how some people love finding the perfect gift? That wasn’t me.

  Don’t get me wrong. I loved giving presents. But the idea of trying to find the perfect gift left me longing to hibernate until Christmas was over.

  Josh looked at me expectantly, and I carefully u
nwrapped the gift. Once the paper had been removed, I was left holding a velvet covered box.

  Even though the box was slightly too big to be a ring, that didn’t stop my heart from hammering Jingle Bells against my ribs—but at a much faster tempo.

  I opened the box and gasped at the gorgeous silver butterfly necklace resting against the black velvet. The delicate wings were created with various swirls and scrolls.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whispered. If I wasn’t so sick, I would have shown him how much I loved it. “Thank you.”

  Was I disappointed it wasn’t an engagement ring?

  Maybe a little. The romantic side of me, which would’ve preferred to be married than be a single mom, had been hoping he would get down on his knee and propose. My practical side rolled its eyes at that.

  I was in love with him, but I wasn’t sure if he was in the same place. I didn’t want to get married just because he believed it was the right thing to do for Noah.

  “Your turn,” I said, indicating at the gift in his hand.

  He ripped off the wrapping and tossed it aside. Then his eyes went wide at the picture on the box.

  A 1958 Chevy Impala model kit.

  “The man in the store said it was challenging.” It was Josh’s preferred style of model—both challenging and a classic car.

  “I love it. It’s perfect. Everything’s perfect.…” He hugged me. “Now how about I get you to bed?” He kissed my cheek, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat.

  Once we were in bed, he snuggled up to me. I was in that state between here and there, when you weren’t sure if you were awake or already asleep. Where come morning, none of what happened during those few blissful moments would be remembered—or if it was, you were convinced it had been nothing more than a dream.

  As exhaustion pulled me deeper, Josh murmured what might have possibly been, “I love you, Holly.”

  25

  Josh

  Christmas Day was great—and not because Holly had moved from Julie Andrews to catching up on Game of Thrones.

  Although let me point out that watching naked women on TV is a lesson in torture when the woman you’re dying to have sex with is sick.

  The kind of torture where you have to excuse yourself so you can jack off in the shower or else die from an excruciating case of blue balls. The guys on the show who were being slaughtered? They had it easier. Their deaths were at least quick.

  New Year’s Eve was the best too—especially since Holly had no longer felt as though she was dying from the plague.

  So, let’s flash-forward to the beginning of February…

  Oh, you were wondering what happened the next morning after I’d blurted out “I love you” to Holly on Christmas Eve?

  Nothing.

  Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

  She never mentioned it the next day, so I wasn’t sure if she had heard me when I said it. Or if she’d heard me but didn’t feel the same way so was avoiding the topic.

  I never said it again—possibly because a part of me feared she would tell me she loved me back, but once Noah was born, she’d feel differently about me. Right now her hormones were all over the place—so who knew what she was really feeling?

  Okay, truthfully? I was a coward. Too many uncertainties existed when it came to our future together, and that scared the shit out of me.

  And yes, I had meant it when I told her I loved her. Except it hadn’t dawned on me until I’d blurted out the three simple words that I really did love her. I had just been too much of an idiot to realize I’d been falling in love with her for the past few months.

  Anyway, back to the here and now—in the dressing room, getting ready for our game against the Penguins.

  “Where’s Jyri?” I asked Travis. Jyri was usually the first one here, stretching. The guy near the entrance to the shower area? The one doing the splits? That was our backup goalie, Matti.

  Travis shrugged at my question. “No idea. I saw him not long ago, talking to coach Fusco.”

  “He’s not injured, is he?” That was the only reason I could come up with for why he wasn’t here yet.

  “Not that I know of. He seemed fine during practice this morning.”

  The door opened and Fusco entered with a player who looked vaguely familiar and was in full goalie gear.

  Oh, this wasn’t good.

  Not good at all.

  My gaze slid to the other two members of HDF. They were thinking the same.

  “All right,” Fusco said. “There’s been a change in the goalie lineup. As of an hour ago, Jyri has been traded to Detroit. Matti will be starting goalie and Jordan has been called up to join us. All right, let’s get out there.” And that was all the time we got to grieve the departure of our teammate.

  To grieve the loss of our most experienced member of HDF.

  I mean, who was more experienced at being a daddy than the father of twin two-year-old boys?

  The game was tough like we had expected. By the end of the third period, we were tied at 2-2. Which meant overtime.

  Then this time tomorrow I’d get to see Holly—who was now thirty-eight weeks pregnant.

  That’s right—for those of you doing the math, she was due in two weeks…give or take a day or two.

  How was I feeling?

  Excited—and nervous as hell. Despite all the daddy-to-be coaching I’d received from HDF during the past twenty weeks, I was still terrified I would fire-truck it up.

  Hey, don’t laugh at my baby-approved swear word. I was now on a cussing restriction.

  And forget the typical fine of twenty-five cents per swear word. Holly had decided I needed a stiffer penalty because a quarter was nothing compared to my annual income.

  Now, each swear word garnered Noah a nice hefty ten-dollar fine toward his college fund.

  So fire truck it was.

  Overtime went well—as in we won. The Rock players rushed onto the ice to celebrate.

  “Fucking great job,” I told Mark, who had scored the overtime goal. I gave him an enthusiastic one-armed hug.

  He laughed. “So when Holly’s not around, you’re allowed to swear?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Did Becca know about the ten-dollar-a-cuss-word fine leveled on me? No, which was why Mark would never tattle-tale to Holly. The consequence was too great when it came to me “accidentally” mentioning it to his wife.

  Back in the locker room, I was getting ready to strip off my hockey gear and head for the shower when the assistant coach nabbed me. “Media’s asking for you.”

  “Of course they are,” I grumbled. “It’s not like they’re standing around, dripping with sweat.”

  But maybe I could stand in front of them and shake my body like a wet dog after a swim in the ocean. Think that would impress them?

  He slapped me on the back in a sympathetic gesture. “You only have to go out for a few minutes.”

  At least no one would be asking about my impending fatherhood. Other than within the team, I hadn’t gone public with the news. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t anyone’s business.

  I returned to the dressing room, where the reporters were waiting. “Good game tonight,” one said to me. Then after I answered a question about Jyri’s trade, he said, “You’ll be a free agent in July. Any ideas on what you can expect?” In other words, did I think I would get traded before then.

  That was the billion-dollar question.

  A question I’d asked myself at least a thousand times. I got paid well, but I wasn’t a star player and would never be. I’d already been traded once before. And to be honest, as much as I loved the game, the constant uncertainty about my future in the league was tiring.

  But what else would I do?

  I guess when it came down to it—that was the real billion-dollar question.

  I BS’d my way through the answer, reminding them it was the GM’s call and he would do what was best for the team. After a few more questions, the assistant coach signaled th
e interview was over.

  I could have almost kissed him.

  Once I’d finished showering and had changed into my suit for our flight back to San Francisco, I entered the secured room where the team had kept our cell phones.

  How did people get ahold of us prior to game-time and during games? They had to contact the team and in turn, the news was passed on to us. This way the team could determine what was an emergency or what wasn’t. Like when Travis’s grandmother once phoned, wondering where he had put the jar of pickles last time he was at her house.

  The woman loved her pickles.

  Why was I telling you this? Because now you’ll see why when I checked my texts, I was surprised to see one from Trent—telling me Holly had gone into labor…several hours ago.

  Shit.

  26

  Holly

  Fuck. Me. Dead! That was the last thought to go through my head as the contraction hit. I stopped walking and braced my hands on my bed—breathing through the pain.

  Whoo whoo.

  Hee hee.

  Until the contraction had returned a moment ago, I’d been “enjoying” the private labor and delivery room. Josh’s hockey game had been on TV (yes, I had a TV), but now the game was over and the TV was off. There was nothing I wanted to watch.

  So I had been walking around the room. It was part of my birthing plan. And high on the agenda was natural childbirth. So no epidural for me.

  But could you blame me?

  I shuddered at the mental image of the scary epidural needle as the contraction faded.

  Phew!

  “How are you doing?” the perky cheerleader of an OB resident asked, entering the room.

  Abso-fucking-lutely fantastic.

  That’s right—I was allowed to swear all I wanted, in my head, without the repercussions of the swear-word jar.

  What Josh didn’t know…

  “I’m fine.” Yes, it was a lie. I wasn’t fine. I was in labor and it hurt like hell and I was alone.

  Well, not completely alone. Kelsey was with me…and Trent when he was brave enough to be in the room.

  I wasn’t sure if it was the concept of labor and childbirth in general that freaked him out—or if it was because I was the one going through it. I wasn’t his girlfriend. I was his colleague.

  Speaking of Trent, he picked that moment to pop into the room.