by Alyssa Kale
Many of the wives and girlfriends—also known as WAGs—travel to our away games. The kids love seeing their dads playing in other cities, and the WAGs are happy to have extra family time. I’m sure back in the day, maintaining a relationship was more difficult. Technology has made almost any type of relationship possible. Soldiers manage to be halfway around the world in combat and still make it work. Surely, a ballplayer could give it a shot.
Imagining a future with Sophie and our child isn’t too far off. That is, if she’ll talk to me and be honest. Explain to me why she kept this from me. Does she think I can’t handle it? That I’m so much of a fuck up that I can’t be trusted with our child?
Was she ever going to tell me?
Would she have told me at all if I hadn’t shown up at her door?
Just the thought that she would’ve kept my son or daughter from me makes me sick. And pissed off. Increasing the speed of the treadmill, I push myself, my feet slamming on the rubber belt.
I’m in the zone, my music drowning out any other sounds in the room.
I’m lost in thought, when something catches my eye. Looking in the mirror in front of me, I jump and almost eat shit. Tapping the emergency stop, I hop onto the sides of the machine. My heart is racing, but it isn’t only because of the hard run.
“Holy fuck, Laura!” Panting, I catch my breath and step off the treadmill, wiping my face with a towel. “You scared the fuck out of me. How did you get in here?”
“Well, you weren’t answering your phone, so I used the key I made with mom’s spare.” She holds up an Aces keychain with a single key on it.
“You made a key to my house without talking to me? Never mind. There’s a reason I’m not answering my phone, Laura.” Taking a hearty drink from my water bottle, I eye her over the top. “I want to be left alone.”
“And I don’t care what you want, big brother,” she says. “Mom and Dad are worried about you.”
Shit.
“I’ll call them.”
“Yes, eventually you will. In the meantime, you need to talk to me. What is going on? Is this about Sophie?”
Ignoring her questions, I leave my sister in my home gym and move to the kitchen. I’m pulling out ingredients for a protein shake when she enters. When Laura starts to talk, I power on the blender, cutting her off. Her groan of frustration is loud enough that I hear it over the roar of the appliance.
Smirking, I pour the concoction into my glass and take a long drink before giving her my attention. This stall tactic works as far as her asking me more questions goes, but from the look on her face, she’s really worried.
Fuck.
“What’s going on with you, Brax? Mom is freaking out and says she’s coming to town if you don’t call her. I love her, but she was just here. So do me a solid and call her back, okay?”
I nod and take another drink.
“Have you spoken to Sophie? Are you two in a fight or something?”
“Or something,” I mumble into my glass.
“I can sit here all day. I’ve got nowhere else to beee.” When we were younger, Laura would sing the end of her statements to drive me crazy.
Newsflash. It still does.
Downing the rest of the drink, I gather my mess, put everything in the sink, and fill it with water. Here goes nothing.
“She’s pregnant.”
If we weren’t talking about my life, I’d laugh at the expression on Laura’s face. She looks like one of the big-eyed stuffed animals you see at the grocery checkout line. Her mouth opens and closes like a small bass, and I do laugh then. A full-body laugh that feels good. It’s been days since I’ve done much but brood and talk to myself.
“Uh. Okay, so that was not what I was expecting. When did she tell you?”
“She didn’t.” Again, her eyes widen. “Isn’t that the shit? She didn’t even tell me. I knocked on her door after not being able to reach her for weeks, and there she stood. Belly out to here,” I say, holding my hands out in front of me.
“And then you fucked up.”
Now, it’s my turn to imitate a fish. Turning my back on Laura, I fill a glass with water. I’m not thirsty but need something to distract me from saying something I’ll regret.
Too little, too late. “How did I fuck up?”
“I assume if you’re here and ignoring your family, then you did something stupid. So, what did you do?”
“Well, let’s start with the fact that she’s pregnant, with my child, and was going to keep it from me. Probably forever.” I throw my hands up in the air. “Lord knows I wouldn’t have known if I didn’t go to her apartment the other night.”
With her brow raised, my sister waits for me to continue.
“This is Amber—in reverse!” I don’t mean to shout loud enough to rattle the windows, but here we are. Everything coming out of my mouth is venomous. Hateful. And as I say it, I realize how far off-base I am. Sophie is nothing like Amber. I cannot imagine how she feels. This year has been nothing but life changes for her, and this is just one more layer.
“Sophie isn’t Amber, Brax. You know that better than I do. What was her excuse for not telling you?”
Diverting my attention from her, I don’t say anything, and that says it all.
This time, it’s me who is left alone. Laura stomps off to the living room. Using this as my out, I retreat to my bedroom for a long and very hot shower. Maybe the pelting water will relieve some of the tension in my shoulders. If I’m lucky, she’ll be gone when I finish.
The only sound I hear after toweling off is the drip from the showerhead. Good. She’s gone. Slipping on a pair of joggers, I make my way back out to the living room and stop dead in my tracks when I see my sister on the couch. She’s not watching TV or playing on her phone. Just sitting in silence. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my sister so quiet. It’s a little unnerving.
“Why are you still here?”
“I’m still here, big brother, because you’re not going to push us all away. I get it. You’re pissed and overwhelmed. But I’m not the bad guy, and if I had to guess, neither is Sophie.”
Crossing the room to stand in front of her, I rest my hands on my hips and scowl down at her. “Are you insinuating I’m the bad guy? Me?” I point to myself. “She’s the one who kept this from me.”
“You told her about Amber, right?”
“Yeah, of course I did. It’s not a secret. At least not the general story. I told her my side of the story.”
And she listened without judgment. I told her everything that happened and how I felt about it all. She never interrupted. Never questioned my feelings. She just held my hand and supported me while I unloaded.
“That was the last time I spoke to her. The next morning was when the story broke about us being out together. I haven’t heard from her since.”
Like a balloon, the fight in me fizzles. The anger is gone, and in its place is disappointment. With myself. With Sophie. With the fucking press. Laura doesn’t say anything as all the realizations hit me like a ton of bricks. Dropping beside her on the couch, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees while running my hands down my face.
I unloaded on Sophie, and the first thing she saw when she woke up were headlines about us. More lies from the media that cast her in a poor light. No wonder she ran. I was overwhelmed, and I signed up for this shit. On top of that, she was pregnant. There was no time for her to tell me. I was too busy burdening her with my drama. It doesn’t excuse her ignoring me for weeks, but I can’t imagine how much pressure she’s been under.
“Shit.”
Laura hums an “mmhmm” next to me.
“What do I do?”
“Well, first, you’re going to tell me everything that happened. Then we’re going to come up with a plan. One that includes you apologizing for being a dick.”
I snort. It better be one hell of a plan.
28
* * *
SOPHIE
After a restless night
’s sleep, the last thing I want to do is get up and answer the door, but whoever is knocking is pretty damn insistent. “I’m coming. I’m coming!” I yell as I slip my arms into my robe. I don’t know why I bother. I can’t tie it anymore.
Rising to my toes, I peek through the peephole, groan, and turn the locks before opening the door.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Kendall brushes past me then turns quickly, bending forward so she’s near my belly. “Good morning, Peanut. Auntie Kendall is here.”
Rolling my eyes at her antics, I close the door and cover my mouth as I yawn. “Why are you knocking on my door at seven on a Saturday morning? You have a key.”
She follows me as I shuffle to the counter and brew my precious morning coffee. “Well, I want to go shopping, and I didn’t have my key. I left it here the other night.” She shrugs.
“Shopping, Kendall, really?” I groan. “It’s seven freaking o’clock in the morning. Couldn’t you have at least let me sleep until nine or something?” Man, I’m grouchy.
“No, where we’re going opens at eight,” she says on her way toward my bedroom.
I don’t follow her. Really, there’s no reason to, she’s just going to do what she wants anyway. Instead, I pop one of my egg bites in the microwave and add creamer to my coffee. By the time I’m taking the first bite of my breakfast, Kendall appears with clothes in her hands.
“Here. Get dressed.”
She snaps her fingers at me, and I want to cut them off. A surefire way to get me to ignore you is to snap your fingers at me. Once, Jared did that to a server at a restaurant, and I wanted to crawl under the table in embarrassment.
Twenty-five minutes later, I’m dressed and sitting in the passenger side of Kendall’s car. She’s not telling me where we’re going, and since I have cut out caffeine to what amounts to a drip, I’m exhausted and pissy.
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” I can hear the sound of teenage me in my voice. Too bad, so sad.
“Nope,” she says, popping the P.
I roll my eyes but opt to just listen to whatever she has playing on the radio—’90s country. Great. I’ll be singing Reba all day long.
Since I have no idea how long our travels will take, I settle into my seat and close my eyes. Maybe she’s driving us to Dallas, and I’ll have time to make up for the lost sleep this morning. Instead, the moment I relax and feel the tug of sleep, the car slows. Opening my eyes, I take in our surroundings. Taking up the majority of the parking lot is one of the largest baby stores in the area. It has everything in it from furniture to clothes to feeding supplies.
“Why are we at Baby Depot?”
“I told you, shopping.” Kendall gets out of the car and I follow suit.
When we arrive at the large door, a gentleman greets us. “Hello, Ms. Thomas, Ms. Harris. Welcome to Baby Depot.”
“Umm, hi?” My steps slow, his personal greeting catching me off-guard.
Another employee is waiting as we move farther into the store, and after another personal greeting, she motions for us to follow her. I realize there are other employees milling around, but we are the only customers.
Before I can ask Kendall what’s going on, the man who greeted us at the door approaches me.
“Ms. Thomas, you’ve been gifted an unlimited shopping budget today. Each department has an employee ready to assist you should you need it. My wife says it is always best to start big, so Melanie is here to answer any questions you have on furniture.”
He gestures to the woman beside him—Melanie, I assume—and then excuses himself. An unlimited budget? This is so far outside my life I have no words. I’ve been setting money aside for a crib and car seat, but other than that, I assumed I’d do some repurposing and second-hand shopping.
Unable to say anything, I look over at Kendall, and she’s smiling in a way that confirms she’s up to something.
“Is this a joke?” I ask to no one in particular.
“No, ma’am,” Melanie says along with Kendall’s “Nope.”
“What’s the catch?” I direct to my bestie.
Waving me off, she smiles and slips her arm through mine. “Just go with it and be thankful, Soph.”
My instinct is to argue and say no thank you. I want to know who did this. Kendall makes a good living and leads a pretty simple life. Maybe she’s vying for Godmother. Joke’s on her. There’s nobody else up for the job. A wave of excitement rolls through me at the possibility of shopping without a limit. I think most women dream of a moment like this.
Of course, in the movies, it’s always a jewelry store and the characters are choosing a diamond ring, but this is more my style. I want the best for my child, and this place is stacked to the brim with the best of everything.
Over the next ninety minutes, Kendall and I walk around and chose everything from a crib to the tiniest socks. I decided early on I wouldn’t find out the gender, so we stick to neutral colors and themes. Suggesting the jogging stroller is me being funny, because I don’t run, but then I realize maybe walking with my kiddo will be our thing, so on the list it goes.
My fairy godmother is having too much fun looking at the different baby shoes. I have no idea why she thinks any newborn needs a pair of sneakers, but if it makes her feel better about this gift, then she might as well get them.
It feels strange to have picked all of these items but not leave with anything in my hands. Of course, when they deliver everything, it will feel strange for a different reason. Exhausted from my early-morning wakeup and shopping, I’m looking forward to a late-morning nap. Kendall chatters away on the drive back to our complex, and while I’m listening, thoughts of the gift continue to distract me.
“Kendall, seriously. Did you do this? If so, it’s way too much, and I need you to make a call and cancel everything.”
“I’m not saying anything other than you need to just accept this gift with the intention behind it. There are no salacious parameters, nor are there any demands for you to pay back anyone for the gift.”
Her failure to answer my direct question makes me wonder if someone else did this. Not my dad. While he’s excited to be a grandpa, he doesn’t have the means for this level of gift giving. Jared, on the other hand, does. Maybe his conscience got the best of him, and like he does with most things, he believes he can buy his way out of a bad situation. Possible? Yes. Likely? No. Jared is a lot of things, but thoughtful isn’t one of them. Besides, he made it clear he has no intention of being in our child’s life.
Braxton is the only other person I can think of who would do something like this, but the way he looked at me last, I know it wasn’t him. He left, and he’s never coming back.
Kendall hugs me goodbye and tells me she’ll be over later with dinner. Waving goodbye, I let myself into my apartment and change into a pair of leggings and a tank top. Crawling onto my bed, I close my eyes and beg for sleep to take me away from my thoughts for a few hours. It ignores my request, and before long, I’m dragging myself out of bed and settle at my desk. I might as well get some work done.
A few hours later, I’ve lost track of time. My stomach growls to remind me I haven’t eaten in since breakfast. Looking at the time, I see it’s that strange time when it’s too late for lunch and too early for dinner. Since Kendall will be over in a little over an hour with dinner, I opt to make myself a small snack of cheese and crackers.
With a little cheese and cracker sandwich in my hand and only inches from satisfying my hunger, there’s a knock at my door.
“I swear with everything that’s in me,” I say, stuffing the little cheesy sandwich in my mouth in one bite. Opening the door expecting to see Kendall again, I choke on the cracker when it isn’t my best friend. Chewing quickly, I swallow my food and narrow my eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can we talk?” Braxton’s eyes fall to my pregnant belly. I’m definitely showing, but it’s even more pronounced, since I’m wearing a
fitted tank.
“I think you made your thoughts on me pretty clear the last time you were here.” There’s a lot of bark in my tone, but when he lifts his eyes to mine, my heart drops. He looks miserable. Red-rimmed eyes and scruff that is more than a few days old.
“Soph, please.”
The softness of his voice breaks something inside me, and I step aside. “Come in.”
While Braxton moves to the living room, I return to the kitchen and grab my snack and large cup of water. When I join him, I settle myself onto the couch and watch as he stares at one of the photos I hung last week. It’s a shot of the city just as the sun is setting.
The silence in the room is heavy. Tense. Gone is the comfortable silence I was used to with Braxton. In its place is this uncertainty. The only sound between us is that of my crackers crunching as I inhale my food.
He speaks first. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I know what he means, but part of me is irritated he thinks this is his business. That we’re his business.
“That…” he begins, but he’s unable to say the words and just points to my belly.
“That? This child is not a ‘that,’ Braxton.”
Now, I’m pissed. Setting my plate down, I swipe the crumbs from my clothes. I see the hurt in his eyes, and I recognize the pain in his voice. This baby has triggered emotions he’s ignored for a year. On some level, I understand, but still, he’s speaking of my child.
“I… I wasn’t calling the baby ‘that.’ How long have you known?”
“I found out a few days after our friend date.”
“Wait, so that means you knew when I told you the entire story about Amber?”
I nod.
“And you didn’t think to tell me then that we were going to have a baby?”
Barking out a laugh, which earns me a scowl, I ask, “What do you mean we?”
“Well, it’s mine, isn’t it?”
There’s a hint of hopefulness in his voice. Shit. No wonder he reacted the way he did. He believes this is his child. That our one night together created a life. His story about Amber and the way he and his family stepped up, planning to care for her and the baby…