Keeping Score

by Alyssa Kale

  “Yo, Lee,” Collins yells, and I turn to find him. He’s got a woman dancing on his lap, his hands nowhere to be seen under her short skirt. “Get your ass over here. Va-nes-sa,” he draws her name out, “is waiting and ready to jump on your lap.”

  I look over at Vanessa, and she bites her lip. I give her a polite smile then look back and shake my head before turning to face the club.

  “Puuussy!” His voice is but a whisper over the music and cackles of the women as I ignore him.

  “Don’t let him piss you off. He only acts like that to get a rise out of you.” Spencer appears next to me. This time, he comes offering a beer, and I’m grateful. Setting the empty glass on a nearby table, I take the bottle from him and lift it to my lips. That’s more like it.

  “He’s a dick, and I don’t want to be here.”

  “Sometimes, it’s not about what you want but what you need to do. These are your teammates, Braxton. As much as I would rather be lounging on my bed in my skivvies watching a Jason Statham movie on demand, this is about being with our team.”

  I know he’s right. It’s important to be social with the guys now and then. In the past, it’s not been an issue. Things are different now. Sophie is different. I want to talk to her. To see how she is handling things. Make sure she’s safe. We may not have taken a step past friends, but that’s where we were. In this gray area between friends and more. It’s a conversation I’m determined to have and being here seems disrespectful to what I want with her.

  Spencer and I down our beers and slip out the back door of the club to a waiting car. We convince the driver to take a detour and hit up a food truck. Offering to cover the driver’s food, I convince him to leave us in the car while he grabs us both a loaded Chicago-style hot dog. If he’s recognized us, he hasn’t said anything, which explains why he’s worried about leaving two guys in a running car. When he returns to the car with our dogs, my stomach grumbles in applause.

  Using every napkin provided, we inhale our meal like men who have been without food for a year. The snack seems to relax Spencer and me as we lean back into the seat. He lets out a groan, and I sigh contently.

  As we pull up in front of the hotel, I note the crowd from earlier has dispersed. Word must be out that the team is gone for the night. Thank goodness. After a short elevator ride to our floor, Spencer and I split off to our own rooms.

  In my room, I immediately shed my suit and flip on the television. Settling on a movie I’ve seen a dozen times, I pick up my phone and text my sister.

  Me: Hey, sis

  Laura: Hey, big bro. How’s Chicago?

  Me: Annoying. I swear this city doesn’t shut up.

  Laura: Hahahaha. Saw y’all won the game tonight. It was a close one.

  Me: Yup.

  Laura: Only two more games left in the season though, huh?

  Me: Yeah, and I’m kinda relieved.

  Laura: Whaaaaaa!!!!!!! You used to get so depressed when baseball season ended.

  Me: I have other things on my mind.

  Laura: Does this have anything to do with Sophie?

  I debate lying to her, but there’s no point. She asked, which means she already knows the answer. Plus, she’s probably one of the only people who won’t judge me.

  Me: It has everything to do with Sophie.

  Laura: Have you talked to her?

  Me: No. I think she changed her number.

  Laura: You must’ve royally fucked up.

  Me: Watch your mouth. And no, it was the fucking press.Laura: Language. Fucking assholes! [angry emoji]

  Me: LOL. What are you up to?

  Laura and I text back and forth a little longer before I call it a night. It takes some time, but I fall into a deep sleep, my thoughts on a long-haired beauty thousands of miles away.

  Two wins and one loss against Chicago and I’m finally on an airplane en route to Texas. Today’s win was a nail biter, but we pulled it out after Collins hit a three-run homer in the eighth inning. Not that he needed more fuel for his ego, but it was what we needed to seal the deal.

  The flight is uneventful, and I manage to pass a dozen levels on my video game while catching up on some podcasts. By the time the wheels touch down Texas, I’m antsy and ready to get to my truck and to Sophie. For the first time in my traveling life, my flight has landed early, which means I’m settled in the back of the car I ordered and headed to my truck at the stadium when I’d normally be maneuvering through baggage claim.

  Excitement courses through me when I climb behind the wheel of my truck. The engine roars to life, and I peel out of the parking lot, rushing to get to my girl. Hitting every green light, I consider this, plus the early flight, a good sign of how things will go seeing Sophie. I can’t wait to pull her into my arms. To feel her heartbeat against my chest.

  My truck is barely in park when I jump out and jog to her door, rapping on the wood three times. The lock clicks, and the door opens.

  “Hey, bit— Oh. Braxton. I thought you were Kendall.”

  Instead of her beautiful smile looking back at me, Sophie has pure shock on her face. Mouth open in an O, her eyebrows high on her forehead, and hand on her… belly. She’s wearing a tight tank top and a pair of black workout leggings, which do a piss-poor job of concealing.

  Pregnant.

  I look from her face to her belly and back again. My blood chills. This cannot be happening. A voice is speaking, but all I can hear is a whooshing sound.

  Every moment I lived with Amber flashes in my mind. The deception and manipulation. It’s the same thing all over again.

  Fuck.

  “Were you not going to tell me?” I bark after finding my voice.

  Body rigid, I clench my jaw, unable to say anything more. Seething in anger, I want to walk away. Leave her here with her excuses. No wonder she changed her number. She was going to keep this from me. I opened up to her. Told her everything that happened and how it devastated me and my family. I thought she was different. I believed she was different. And I know it’s not the same as what happened before, but it hits too close to home.

  “Brax,” she starts, her voice quivering. “Please come inside. You look like you’re going to pass out. Let me finish explaining.”

  “Finish? No. I… I can’t do this right now.”

  Turning, I leave her standing in the doorway calling my name. I can hear the anguish in her voice as she pleads with me to stay, to allow her to explain.

  What’s there to explain? She’s pregnant and didn’t tell me.

  26

  * * *

  SOPHIE

  I’m still standing at my door when Kendall arrives. Emotions bubble out of me as tears streak my face. I couldn’t stop them if I wanted to. This is the moment I’ve dreaded. Why I’ve not responded to Braxton’s attempts to contact me.

  “What happened?” she asks, rushing to me, her face laden with concern. “Soph, talk to me.”

  I don’t answer. How can I? It feels like my heart was just ripped out of my body. I’ve been kidding myself to think I could just walk away from Braxton Lee unscathed. My feelings for him know no bounds. Try as I might, there’s no turning back from a man like him.

  Prying my hand from the door handle, Kendall guides me into the apartment and settles me on the couch. When she returns with a damp cloth, I cover my face, letting the cool cotton rest on my tear-streaked skin. After a few seconds, she removes the towel and pushes a glass of water in my hands. Through a series of choppy breaths, I manage to take a drink from the glass.

  “Soph, please talk to me. What’s going on? Did Jared show up here or something?”

  I shake my head.

  “Braxton?”

  I nod.

  “Shit.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Shit.”

  I know it’s her effort to make me laugh, and it works. A humorless chuckle escapes as I take another sip of water before placing the glass on the table. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on the back
of the sofa.

  “He looked so happy when I opened the door. It took my breath away, Ken. Then his eyes dropped, and it all changed. His expression morphed like some sort of horror movie. From happiness to disgust in a fraction of a second. I tried to explain. To tell him the baby isn’t his, but he walked away, refusing to listen.

  “Oh, honey.”

  Shrugging one shoulder, I try and fail at indifference. “I was right to end things before we moved past friends. To cut off all ties. To move on.” The lies taste bad on my tongue, but it’s the same series I’ve been telling myself the last few weeks. Maybe if I say them enough, I’ll start to believe them. If only I didn’t have to break my own heart doing it.

  “What did he say when you tried to tell him?”

  “Nothing. He wouldn’t let me explain. I wanted to assure him it wasn’t a repeat of last year. I’m not Amber. I wouldn’t do that to him. The way he reacted… I don’t think a word I said registered.”

  Twisting my body, I let Kendall pull me into a side hug and give in to the emotions I’ve pushed aside for weeks. The surprise pregnancy, my confrontation with Jared, and the reality that Braxton likely hates me all hit me at once.

  “You tried to tell him, Soph, and he chose not to listen. That’s on him, not you.” She makes the shhh sound as sobs come out of my throat.

  We sit like that for a while, her attempting to console me while I purge my feelings. I wish I could blame this breakdown on hormones, but I can’t.

  “I’m going to pop us some popcorn as planned, and we’re going to pull up a movie and put this all away for the night. It isn’t good for you or the baby to be this worked up.”

  Nodding, I sigh, and say, “No romance. I just can’t do that right now.”

  “No worries.” Scrolling through the movie options, my best friend turns to me with a huge smile on her face. “How about Pitch Perfect?”

  I nod, and she presses Play on the movie. With the familiar sounds of one of my favorite movies filling the apartment, I curl into the corner of the couch and start singing along with the Treblemakers.

  When I wake the next morning, I feel no better than when I fell into a restless sleep. My heart is heavy, and I dozily pad my way into the kitchen for my morning cup of coffee. I tried to cut it out completely, but I’m super grumpy without at least a half cup of coffee, and it’s best for the world that I have at least that each day.

  With my watered-down cup of coffee in hand, I cross the apartment to my home office. I’ve taken to working from home in the mornings the last few weeks. My morning sickness has a tendency to revisit from time to time, and truthfully, not waking to an alarm each day has been a blessing. It also helps that the last few shoots I’ve had for the magazine were in the studio and could be held at any time.

  Opening my editing program, I flip through the images from last week’s shoot. Our November cover model is a local socialite who’s in line to inherit her father’s multibillion-dollar business. Cora wants the cover image to portray the young woman as more than the public assumes. After the positive response to Braxton’s issue, she likes the idea of peeling back the layers of our features to give our readers more than they expect.

  Becca Lambert is vivacious, beautiful, and—surprising even me—ridiculously intelligent. She holds two business degrees, and during one of our breaks, she told me of her plans to establish a non-profit focused on bringing the arts back into our local school system. It’s almost impossible to choose the best photo, and that isn’t because of my work; it’s simply because she’s gorgeous.

  Losing myself in the images, I only stop for some breakfast and a bathroom break until my work is complete. Satisfied with the final images, I upload them to the magazine’s cloud and compose an email to Cora. Of course, I nudge her in the direction of the images I think would work best, but ultimately, it’s up to her. Since I have no idea what is happening at the office, I also shoot off a text to her.

  Me: Images uploaded. I’ll be in the office by 1.

  Cora: OMG! I’m going to look now.

  I wait, because I know she’s going to freak when she sees the number of uploads.

  Cora: You got 40?! Holy cow, I don’t think we’ve ever had that many to choose from.

  Me: I know. I had a hard time even narrowing it down to those.

  Cora: You can never leave me, Soph! Since I have these, there’s no need to come in. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Before powering down my computer, I check my email. Like I’ve done every day, I reread Braxton’s message through my website.

  Sophie,

  I can’t apologize enough for this shitstorm. Please talk to me. I’ve tried calling. At least tell me you’re okay.

  B.

  Refusing to cry anymore over the direction my life has taken, I move to the next series of messages. When the news of Braxton’s and my date hit, my website was inundated with inquiries. Most, I could tell were fake and reporters trying to trick me into responding. Others, I wasn’t so certain and found it best to ignore them all just in case. Now, I wish I had at least responded to a few for newborn shoots.

  Staying busy with work has helped me keep my mind off Braxton and Jared. My focus has been on the baby and how I’m going to support us both. Thank goodness I have a career with flexibility and a best friend and father who I can lean on.

  I think back to telling my dad I was pregnant.

  I pick up my phone and click Daddy from my favorites list. I take a deep breath waiting for him to pick up. Dad is the only person close to me I haven’t told yet. Honestly, he should’ve been the first, but I was scared.

  “Hey sweetie,” he says, answering the phone.

  “Hi Daddy.”

  “Is everything okay?” He can hear in my tone that it’s not.

  “Uhh…yeah…well, kinda.” I stutter.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well…please don’t me mad.”

  “Never,” he says without hesitation.

  “Okay,” I pause, truly scared of what he’s going to think. “I’m pregnant. It’s Jared’s.”

  There’s silence on the other end of the line.

  I decide to just let him process the news because honestly, I don’t know what he’s thinking or if he’s mad or what.

  Just when I’m about to ask if he’s still there he says, “Please tell me you’re not getting back together with him, Soph.”

  “No. Never. I’m going to do this on my own. I have money saved up and a good place for us to live. It won’t be easy, but it will be better than being with Jared.”

  “Oh good,” he sighs with relief. “Are you happy?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” I assure him. “At first, I was scared, but I have a good support system.”

  I continue telling him my plans. He asks about Brax and me. I tell him that we’re just friends even though the headlines he’s seen say otherwise. He laughs but can truly see straight through my lies.

  After getting off the phone with my dad, I feel better. I have a support system in place for me and my baby and that’s all that matters. And he is super excited to be a grandpa.

  I shake myself out of my thoughts and since I have the day to myself, I decide to catch up on some cleaning and work through the series I’ve been streaming. Mindless television and some online window shopping will help distract me from my life. Sometime during my fifth episode of my seventh rewatch of The Vampire Diaries, I wake up to a dark room.

  Night has fallen, and I realize I’ve slept through the afternoon. On instinct, I pick up my phone to check the time. The move is unnecessary, because my stomach alerts me to the fact that it’s dinnertime. My finger hovers over Braxton’s name on my contacts list. I want to reach out to him. To explain about the baby. But he made it clear he wants nothing to do with me.

  Instead, I settle for breakfast for dinner and the rest of my series.

  27

  * * *

  BRAXTON

  Of all the reasons I tried to come up w
ith as to why Sophie ghosted me, her being pregnant was not one of them. I’ve thought back to the night we spent together. I know I used a condom. I know the box says they’re only ninety-eight percent effective, but I’ve never actually known anyone to fall into that two percent, so I guess in many ways I assumed it wasn’t real. Now, her feeling sick for days on end and never-ending tiredness make complete and total sense. I clearly remember that about Amber.

  I’m pissed. Livid. How could she not tell me that she’s pregnant? She seemed to empathize with everything Amber put me through. She seemed angry on my behalf, horrified that she could lie to me like she did. And yet, here we are. Sophie kept this from me for weeks.

  My efforts to channel my frustration into my workouts has been unsuccessful. I’m still tense, and my fuse is short. It’s also why I’ve ignored everyone’s calls and texts. My parents and sister included. There is too much to figure out before I drop the bomb about my kid.

  My kid.

  A year ago, just those two words sent me into a cold sweat. This time, it’s different. I’ve fallen hard for Sophie and sharing a child with her doesn’t seem as intimidating. Contrary to her recent secret keeping, she’s a good person with a kind heart and caring soul. I have no doubt she’ll make a wonderful mother. Unlike with Amber, I have no problem envisioning a future with Sophie. That is, if we can get over this deception.

  I vowed long ago that I wouldn’t marry as long as I was playing ball. In college, I watched teammates cheat on girlfriends without a second thought. The drama those choices brought into their lives was enough of a reason for me to not even date seriously. By the time I was drafted, I knew my focus needed to be on my career and not on a romantic relationship. But being around guys like Spencer, and seeing him make it work, I wonder if there really is a balance. Perhaps it’s finding the right person to share your life with that makes the difference.