Keeping Score

by Alyssa Kale

  He pulls away and pushes my chin up so my eyes meet his. “Thank you for tonight, Sophie.”

  I nod, not really knowing what else to say. He really knocks me speechless way more than I care to admit. I turn, getting into my car and looking up at him before I shut the door. “Thank you for dinner and…” The fuck? Is that what I call it?

  “You’re welcome.” He smirks. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say before shutting my door and driving off.

  When I’m back at my apartment I text Kendall to see what she’s up to.

  Me: Hey, whatcha doing?

  She doesn’t reply right away, so I decide to take a shower. When I get out, I dry off and check my phone to see that I have three missed text messages.

  Kendall: Out on a date.

  Me: Oh! How’s it going? Need me to bail you out? ;)

  Kendall: Not yet. I’ll let you know. You okay?

  Me: Yup. Have fun on your date.

  I close out mine and Kendall’s text thread and see Braxton also texted me.

  Braxton: You make it home?

  Braxton: Soph, you okay?

  I start typing out a text when my phone rings. Braxton.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I got home and jumped in the shower. Forgot to call you,” I spit out quickly, feeling bad that I made him worry.

  “A shower, so quickly? Was it really that bad?” he jokes. “Maybe I should come over and mess you up again?”

  I laugh and almost wish that he would. “No, it was—” I pause, trying to come up with the right words to explain tonight, but end up settling on… “—amazing.”

  “Yeah, it was.” I can almost hear his smile through the phone and can for sure see it in my head. I love his smile. “But maybe I should come over and dirty you up again,” he repeats.

  I almost say yes, but instead, I say, “I just don’t want to shower in the morning before work. Would rather sleep in for an extra thirty minutes.”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he says, and I yawn. “I better let you get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty tired. Some baseball player wore me out tonight,” I tease.

  “Hope he was at least hot,” he jokes back.

  “Oh, he was. Trust me, he was.” I laugh at the same time he does.

  “Night, Soph.”

  “Goodnight,” I reply before hanging up the phone and climbing in bed.

  The next few weeks are much of the same. Dinner at either my place or Braxton’s and sexy time afterward. Neither of us staying the night. We’re fuck buddies, and that’s it. But we’re also working very hard to stay out of the public eye. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.

  I need to end it though before both of us gets in even deeper. I’m already going to break my heart—again.

  Braxton has been so caring. He makes sure I’m eating good meals nearly every day then satisfies my sexual hunger, which has seriously been out of control. When we have sex, he takes time to find positions I’m comfortable in. Lately, it’s been the spooning position, but my favorite is me on top, riding him. I love that it frees up his hands for him to play with my breasts. It drives me—and him—wild.

  I have a late photo shoot tonight with a couple who just had a baby, and since it’s on the other side of the city, Braxton told me to stop by on the way home and he’d have dinner waiting for me.

  During the shoot, I’m cramping a little, but I think it’s just because I’ve been on my feet longer than usual, so I’m thankful when I’m able to pack up and leave.

  When I get to Braxton’s, I’m just flat-out exhausted. He can tell.

  “Hey, Soph.” He comes up and kisses me. Very domestic. Shit.

  “Hi,” I say. Then yawn.

  He guides me to the sofa where we sit, and he pulls my feet up on his lap and begins to massage them. They’re swollen, but not overly so. I just lay my head back on the pillow and rest my eyes.

  Braxton tries to wake me up to eat, but I’m not hungry. I’m exhausted and want to sleep.

  I start to get up. “I should go home.”

  “No, you’re exhausted. You can barely hold your eyes open. Just sleep here,” he offers.

  I really have no energy to argue, so I just nod and start to walk toward the bathroom to take off my makeup. I wised up after that first time I stayed over here, the one night we didn’t do anything—which is kinda ironic, now that I think about it—and put a travel kit in my purse with makeup remover wipes and a toothbrush.

  When I come out of the bathroom, I see Braxton has laid out a pair of workout shorts and another one of his college T-shirts. I change clothes and quickly climb into bed before Braxton returns.

  I’m half asleep when I feel him climb in behind me. He kisses the back of my head and wraps his arm around me, his hand on my swollen belly.

  I’m jolted awake by a sharp pain. Shit. That fucking hurt.

  I pull myself out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. The shorts I’m wearing are a dark navy blue, so I don’t see it until I pull them down to go to the restroom. Dark-red blood. Oh my God. No.

  I breathe, realizing where I am, and don’t want to worry Braxton. My phone is still in the living room, so I clean myself up, put on my clothes from yesterday, and sneak out to grab it. I quickly dial the emergency number the doctor’s office gave me to call them after hours. I explain what’s going on. The nurse tells me I need to get to the hospital as fast as possible, she’s going to notify labor and delivery that I’m coming and to expect me.

  I start to call Kendall to see if she can meet me up there, but I hear Braxton come up behind me. “Soph, what’s wrong?”

  “I... I…” Unsure of what to tell him, I settle on, “I need to get to the hospital. I just got off the phone with the nurse. I woke up to some pain and umm... bleeding.” Shit, I probably bled on his sheets.

  “Okay,” he says, seeming to jump into action. “I’ll take you.” He grabs his wallet and keys and guides me down to the garage, not really giving me another option.

  “Braxton, I can drive my—”

  “Sophie, I’m here. Let me drive you, okay?”

  “Okay.” I opt not to argue, knowing it’s best if I let someone else drive with the state I’m in anyway.

  At the hospital, he pulls up to the emergency drop-off and runs in to grab a wheelchair. A nurse comes out and helps him so he can park his truck.

  They were expecting me, so I just have to sign a few papers before being transferred up to labor and delivery. The nurse that checks me in goes through the usual vitals check while we wait for the doctor on-call.

  I explain everything that’s happened, and a sonogram is ordered, but it will be a while before it can be done, so when everyone walks out, Braxton comes back in. He stepped out earlier to give me some privacy.

  “You don’t have to stay here,” I say as he sits down in the chair next to the bed. I’m basically strapped in, with a monitor on my belly to measure the baby’s heartrate.

  “I know, but I want to.” He grabs my hand and smiles. I smile back, truly not having the energy to argue, but also sort of thankful he’s here.

  A few hours after I have the sonogram with the specialist, the on-call doctor walks in. “Well, hello there, Mommy and Daddy.” He goes to shake Braxton’s hand. “I’m Dr. Loughty.”

  “He’s not the—”

  “Hi, I’m Braxton,” he cuts me off as he shakes Dr. Loughty’s hand. Not correcting him at all. Bastard. He looks at me with a sly smile.

  “So, it seems you have what we call marginal placenta previa, which is where the placenta partially covers the cervix. You’re about thirty-two weeks, so if it gets worse, we will probably need to do a c-section, but since it’s marginal, I’m going to assume it will fix itself before you give birth. Your doctor will probably want to monitor you closely until you go into labor and/or the previa corrects itself.” The doctor explains in layman’s terms, thank goodness.

  “What about the baby?�
� I ask.

  “The baby is perfectly fine and healthy. Everything is measuring a little over thirty-two weeks, so you’re perfect. But I want you to go on bed and pelvic rest.”

  “Okay, what does that mean?” I ask.

  “That means go home and relax, be waited on hand and foot, keep your feet up, and no strenuous exercise.” He eyes Brax. “Sorry, dude.”

  Braxton just smirks and looks at me.

  “Any other questions?” the doctor asks and looks at both Braxton and me.

  “I can’t think of any,” I say.

  “Okay, good. The nurses will discharge you in a couple of hours as long as everything looks good.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I say, relieved. So very relieved that everything with my baby is okay.

  A few hours later, we’re pulling back into his garage. He helps me out of the truck and into the house.

  I start to grab the rest of my things so I can go home, but he stops me.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Braxton starts gently pulling things out of my hand and putting them on the counter. “You’re staying here with me.”

  “What? No,” I say, confused. “I couldn’t possibly—”

  He cuts me off with a kiss. “Soph, listen. You live in that apartment by yourself, and I’m in the middle of the off-season. I only have a handful of things to do, and the rest of the time, I can be here with you, taking care of you.”

  “Braxton,” I start, “seriously, this isn’t your responsibility. Kendall can help me, and when she’s at work, I’ll just hang out on my sofa.”

  “Or you could hang out on my sofa, and I’ll keep you company.” He smirks.

  I just sigh. He’s not really giving me another option, but I’m not going to lie. I’m thankful he’s doing this, and as much as I don’t want to be, I’m falling for him. I’m falling for him hard. This is going to hurt when it’s over and he realizes I have another person to take care of. He’s not going to want that.

  33

  * * *

  BRAXTON

  I love her. There’s no other explanation why I would just offer to take care of a woman who is pregnant with someone else’s baby. Why do I want to be the one who takes care of her? Her ex should be the one caring for her and his baby.

  Why does that thought make my blood boil? Why do I wish the baby was mine?

  Fuuuck.

  The next few hours are filled with a lot of Sophie sleeping… and me watching her sleep. She’s so peaceful when she’s asleep, like all the stress she’s under just drains from her body. Every once in a while, I catch her lips turn up into a smile, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s dreaming of.

  When Sophie wakes up, she calls Kendall and has her pack a bag of everything she might need for the next couple of weeks, plus her laptop so she can work from my place and cancel the photo shoots she had scheduled.

  We spend dinnertime with Kendall, and I love what a good friend she is to Sophie. I’m thankful for that.

  “Thank you for dinner, Brax. And for entertaining my friend,” Sophie says and yawns at the same time.

  “You’re welcome. Kendall is welcome over here any time. Your dad too. Anyone really. My home is your home, Soph. Don’t feel like you can’t make it feel that way.”

  “Okay.” She yawns once more. “Thanks again, Brax.”

  She makes her way to the bedroom, and it doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

  I clean up after dinner then slide into bed behind her. When she’s sleeping, I find myself holding her swollen belly, feeling the baby move. I never did this with Amber. I was really detached toward the final parts of her pregnancy. I just knew deep down that baby was not mine. And I know for sure Sophie’s baby is not mine, but it doesn’t matter to me. I want Sophie in my life. Permanently. That thought doesn’t scare me as much as I thought it would. I know she’s got a lot on her plate right now and this is not the time, but I know—more than I know that it’s three strikes and you’re out—she’ll be my wife one day.

  The next morning, I’m woken up by a call from Karen. Shit.

  “Hey, Karen,” I say, and before Karen tells me why she’s calling, I already know. In my gut, I know….

  “You and Sophie are in the tabloids again,” she says somberly. I’m sure she’s hoping to avoid the outburst I had the last time. The one that cost me to go weeks without Sophie talking to me.

  “How bad is it?” I take a deep breath, bracing for what’s about to come.

  “It’s bad.” She sighs.

  “Read them to me.”

  And she does. “Aces First Baseman Knocks Up Photographer Sophie Thomas. Aces First Baseman Seen Walking Out of Hospital with Sophie Thomas. And Baby Maybe? Clarence Aces First Baseman Braxton Lee is Going to be a Daddy—Again.”

  Karen comes up with a game plan on how to deal with the press, but I’m more worried about how Sophie is going to deal with this... again. The last time these kinds of headlines popped up, she left me, changed her number, and I had to fight to get her back.

  I’m not going to lie; these headlines aren’t ones I want to dispute—with the press or anyone really. And that thought scares the living shit out of me.

  Unknown: [IMAGE]

  Unknown: [IMAGE]

  Unknown: [IMAGE]

  Five more images come in. Each one worse than the last. All of Sophie in very compromising positions. I cannot tell who the guy is, as his face has been blurred out, but it’s not hard to guess. As I begin to type out my reply, another one comes in.

  Unknown: Aren’t you just loving these images of your girl with another man? Bring me $5 mil, or I’ll release them to the press.

  As my anger level rises, I still try to remain calm. I decide it’s best not to tell Sophie about this. Any more stress could cause more harm to her and the baby, and given the headlines in the tabloids this morning, I think she’ll already be past her limit when she wakes up and sees it all. It’s everywhere.

  Five million is nothing to me. I could easily pay it, and this could all go away, but fuckers like this never just go away. They always want more.

  I dig into a bit of research then call my attorney, Bob, for his advice on how to proceed. I keep him on retainer now. This isn’t the first time someone has tried to blackmail me, and I know from experience it’s always better to have an attorney from the get-go rather than handle it myself. Learned that one the hard way.

  After talking to Bob, I feel much better about how to proceed. Odds are this dude is desperate, and that thought makes me smile, because when someone is desperate, they’re irrational and stupid. He’ll slip up eventually.

  34

  * * *

  SOPHIE

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  I wake up to my text notifications going off like crazy. I groan, knowing it’s probably Kendall checking on me.

  When I see the texts that have poured in from Kendall, Cora, and my dad, I think something is wrong until I see the other, like, fifty from nosy people.

  Kendall: Are you okay? What’s going on?

  Kendall: Have you seen today’s tabloid BS?

  Dad: Why didn’t you tell me you and Lee were back together?

  Cora: Call me.

  Shit. More tabloid bullshit.

  Before I reply to anyone, I pull up my phone and google Braxton Lee, and there they are. The headlines reading that Braxton is going to be a father and mentions my name again.

  Fuck.

  I’m sure Braxton has already seen these and he’s trying to do damage control, because he does not need this for his image again.

  I shoot off messages to my dad and Kendall, letting them know I’m okay, and I tell my dad we’re not together-together, just friends—with benefits, but I leave that part out. I tell Cora I’ll call her later and that right now isn’t a good time. This time, she probably will fire me.

  A few minutes later, Braxton comes into the room. “Oh, you’re awake,” he says cautiously. “I guess you’ve seen?”

>   “Oh yeah, I woke up to a million texts this morning.”

  “Great,” he says, sighing. And I just know the blow is coming. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, not anything I haven’t dealt with before,” he replies, and I blanch, because he has dealt with this almost exact same thing before. He runs his hand through his hair. I can tell he’s so very frustrated, so I pull myself out of bed and begin gathering my things in the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

  “I should probably head back home,” I say, knowing he doesn’t want me here.

  “Uh, you’re not going anywhere,” he tells me as he pulls the bag out of my hand and sets it gently on the counter.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “You don’t need to be dealing with this again. Me staying with you and coming and going with you is just going to cause you even more issues.”

  “Soph, breathe,” he orders as he grabs my face. “The front gate is swarming with press, and your apartment complex is probably like it was last time.”

  Shit. Yeah, I can’t leave now. I’m also supposed to be on bed rest, so walking the long distance from the other side of my complex isn’t very smart.

  “Stay here,” he says as he kisses me with passion, letting me know he means it and he wants it.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I want you here and in my life.”

  Wait, what did he just say? The butterflies take flight in my stomach and suddenly I want everything with him, but I know I can’t have it. Timing sucks so bad.

  He guides me into the living room, where he’s made me a spot on the sofa with my favorite blanket and the remote. “I’m going to cook you some breakfast really fast. Do you want tea?”

  I just nod, because what else can I do? I can’t leave here with the press all over the place, and I can’t go home with the press all over the place. I’m stuck, but there are worse places to be stuck.