by Sara Ney
They high-five.
“This escalated far too quickly,” Mateo mutters from behind me. I can’t tell if he’s as horrified as I am or just mildly amused—or both?
The brothers Wallace are being ridiculous, and if our mother were here, she’d make them stop talking stupid, stop this nonsense, stop quarreling.
But she’s not, because they remain in Florida vacationing.
I have to deal with these fools myself.
“Um hi. Hello!” Great, I’m quoting Buzz now. “Listen up, both of you—neither of you are coming to this appointment. Not this one, not any after that. Ever—so get it out of your heads.”
“She’s so cute,” Tripp tells Buzz.
“Look at how mad she’s getting.” Buzz chuckles. “She’s all red.”
“Knock it off, you jackasses! You are not coming to the doctor with me!”
Tripp hums in disagreement. “Um. Technically are you even going to see the doctor, or just the tech doing the ultrasound?” He sounds offended by me, like I know nothing and he’s the expert and he’s going to win this argument on a technicality because I suck at arguing with these idiots.
Well he is wrong.
They are not going to win this one.
I am about to lose my damn mind. “Tripp, it doesn’t freaking matter—you are not coming!”
“Fine,” Buzz says under his breath. “We’ll draw straws so only one of us goes. Whoever wins has to promise to video-chat.”
This is getting worse and worse.
“Okay, let’s draw straws,” Tripp says.
“Rock paper scissors?” Buzz counters back, always having to have the last word.
Eye roll. “Fine.”
They begin rock, paper, scissors, smacking their closed fists and flat palms and scissors fingers against their open hands, shouting “BEST TWO OUT OF THREE!” when they tie.
Which they’ve done twice now. This never-ending bullshit has become the story of my life, and someone should make a movie about two grown men—both professional athletes—who act like children and terrorize their family.
“No one is coming!” I yell, already worked into a snit, my blood pressure no doubt skyrocketing past healthy and normal. “Listen to directions, both of you!”
They both come when I have my twenty-week appointment.
Both of them, plus Mateo’s little sister Glory, plus his sister Rosie, and his mother, who wasn’t about to be left out once she heard the appointment was turning into a family affair.
I glance around the room, spread out on the exam table, clothed in the ugliest gown I’ve ever seen: threadbare, open to the back. I’m freezing my ass off and dying of embarrassment.
“Has espacio para tu madre.” Make room for your mother, Mrs. Espinoza demands, Mateo translating for her, squeezing into the exam room, the sonographer perched on her stool, looking curiously entertained.
It was easy for the guys to bribe the technician to let everyone sit in the room for the circus show—not many people say no to famous athletes, certainly not three of them in one room.
Once they were bribed with a few hundred-dollar bills and the promise of autographed merchandise—plus a box of it for the receptionists too—it still wasn’t easy getting everyone back to the exam room.
Jeez, and they were so loud, too.
Like elephants stampeding down a hallway.
I throw an arm over my eye to block them all out, wanting to fade away into the dimly lit room. Disappear into the table.
They ooh and ahh when the sonographer—Jennifer—pulls my gown aside to display my belly.
“Looks like a beer gut.” Buzz laughs.
Tripp smacks him in the arm. “Now is not the time.”
“Sorry.”
I can’t tell if he’s sorry or not because my attention is suddenly drawn to the small screen next to my exam table, and Mateo takes my hand.
It’s the baby.
Our baby.
Baby Wallace it says in the upper left-hand corner of the screen.
I stare at that name, feeling slightly pink in the cheeks.
Baby Wallace.
Baby Espinoza.
I wonder if his mother has noticed; if she has, she hasn’t mentioned it.
The room is blessedly quiet, everyone’s eyes glued to the tiny black and white monitor, the small outline of the teeny baby inside my belly projected onto the screen.
“There are the hands,” Jennifer tells us.
“I’m getting her her first baseball glove,” Buzz announces. “A pink one.”
“We don’t know if it’s a girl,” Gloria says.
“I don’t see a wiener,” my brother tells her. “Trust me, I’m the expert on those.”
Could he not?
“Are we sure we want everyone to know?” Jennifer asks. “Did you want me to just write it down so you can do a gender reveal party?”
“Dear god no, we’re not having one of those,” Tripp grunts.
“That’s not your decision to make, asshole.” Buzz nudges him hard enough with his elbow that I see it from where I’m lying. “Don’t you think it would be kind of neat to do the giant balloons filled with confetti? We can each pop one.”
I hear Tripp’s “Eh…maybe.”
“Jennifer, you’re going to have to give us some time to discuss it as a group before we decide.”
“Ignore them, Jennifer,” Mateo says. “They have no say in this.”
“Eh,” Tripp says again, earning a laugh from Mateo’s mother and sisters and a groan from me.
“Jennifer, when they’re paying the doctor bills and buying diapers, they can have a say in what we decide.”
“Dibs on buying diapers,” Buzz shouts, rather loudly for such a small room. He immediately gets shushed by half the people in it. “Sorry.”
“Does this hospital have security officers?” I wonder out loud as the wand thingy moves across my stomach.
“Yeah, two of them.” Buzz laughs. “Robbie and Kris—we gave them both autographs at the door and tickets to the season opener.”
Mateo looks up at him, surprise on his face. “You carry around tickets to the season opener?”
“Er, no—he’s going to email me his address and I’m going to send them.”
My baby’s father nods. “Ah. Smart.”
Jennifer clears her throat as a warning, and Mrs. Espinoza loudly sniffs her disapproval of the direction the conversation is taking.
The whole thing has gotten so far off track it will be a miracle if anyone notices the baby sprouting two heads and little devil horns up on the ultrasound screen.
“Guys, time and place. Time. And. Place.” Glory gets the room back on track—sort of.
“So that doesn’t answer the question of if we want to know the sex of our baby or not,” Buzz whisper-talks into the dim room.
“Mateo and I will discuss it ALONE once Jennifer kindly clears the room. This is ridiculous.”
And so typical of a Wallace gathering.
It cannot and never will be normal.
What is normal anyway?
Boring, that’s what.
Jennifer shoots the group a silencing look. “Give me a few more minutes of quiet, guys, and then we’ll have you wait outside.”
“Hey, I paid good money for these seats,” Tripp grumbles.
“You paid no money for these seats. I’m the one who told Robbie and Kris they could have tickets to the game.”
Tripp scoffs. “You’re not paying for those either, moron. You’ll have your manager send them over—get real.”
“So? They’re still not free. Someone’s gotta pay for those.” He glances around the room at his captive audience. “I’ll pay for those tickets in home runs, sucker. BOOM goes the dynamite.”
He makes a fist then makes it explode, making half the room laugh.
Even Mrs. Espinoza can’t keep the giggle out of her scowl.
“Dammit, Buzz!” I curse. “Shoot, sorry,” I mutter, rememberi
ng myself and the women in the room—the ones just getting to know me. The last thing Mrs. Espinoza needs to know is that I occasionally have the mouth of a truck driver.
In my defense, I work in a male-dominated industry and half the dudes are sexist pigs who underestimate me on every level. I have to level the playing field somehow, and my vocabulary is a great place to start.
I grimace, staring back at the tiny monitor, at my baby, whose uncles are completely stealing the show here. Damn them, can’t they shut up for three seconds?
“That’s definitely a wiener,” Gloria mutters.
“Mmm, are you sure about that?” Jennifer interjects, moving the wand here and there, the gel sticking to my belly. “Lots of teeny tiny baby parts.”
She hums, lips sealed.
Moves the wand around some more. Then, satisfied, she sets it aside and straightens to glance around the crowded room.
“Okay everyone, I’m going to need you to quietly exit and quietly wait in the lobby.” She pauses. “Quietly.”
“Gotcha.” Mateo’s sisters link arms and grab their mother.
Mrs. Espinoza leans down and kisses me on the forehead, then her son on the top of the head.
A sweet moment I store away, grateful she was here today.
Everyone shuffles out, winter jackets in hand.
I hear them meandering down the hall, my brothers’ loud whispers still too damn loud and not at all quiet as they’ve been told repeatedly, but it makes me smile regardless.
My brothers.
I lay a hand on my stomach.
Maybe, baby, you’ll have a brother like that one day. Or maybe you’ll be the brother.
Two boys and one girl.
I could live with that for the rest of my life.
Just imagine…
I turn my head toward Mateo.
He kisses me on the lips, something he hasn’t done much of—certainly never when my brothers are around, those heathens.
I sigh, content.
Twenty-One
Mateo
“I am never doing that again.” I’m stretched out beside True on my bed that night after our appointment, just…exhausted. “Ever.”
I never realized how damn tiring the Wallaces are, and I’ve only spent time with the three of them.
It’s way worse than seven Espinoza siblings by far.
Buzz is like four people wrapped into one childish, ridiculous, loud man-child.
“We are never doing that again,” True agrees. “I can’t believe we let it happen to begin with.” She’s lying on her side, looking like she belongs on my bed, in my condo. “My brothers are so embarrassing.”
“My sisters didn’t seem to think so. God, I’ve never heard Rosaria laugh so loud—she sounded like a hyena.”
Frightening, really.
“I’m glad your mom was able to come today even if it was crazy in that room. Poor Jennifer.”
I groan. “Don’t go Poor Jennifer-ing Jennifer—she knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed to let them in that room. Buzz was making farting noises with his armpit in the lobby when she came to collect us—none of his behavior came as a surprise.”
“Can you not remind me how immature my brother is? And can you believe he’s married? Like, someone actually married him. On purpose.”
I roll to face her, resting a hand on her belly. “Some good things came out of that wedding.”
Her expression softens and she blushes, putting her hand on top of mine. “That’s true.”
We lie here like this—perfectly content and quiet, my hand on her stomach, her hand on mine, rubbing the life that’s inside of her body. It still amazes me that we’re doing this.
I can hardly fucking believe it.
Wild.
Surreal.
“Come with me to Arizona, True.” I say it in a near whisper, meaning every word. Wanting it.
She’s quiet, but I know she’s been thinking about going with me because we’ve discussed it before. Or, I’ve asked anyway—not sure if she has taken my requests seriously, so I ask again.
“You don’t have any appointments coming up now that this one is out of the way, and if you do, we can fly back.”
Money is not an issue.
“What am I supposed to do while you’re working? Wait around?”
Is that what she thinks?
“No—you can work. You can use the office that’s in the house and then we can go on dates and get to know each other, and if you can’t stand me by the end of the thirty-seven days…” I swallow. “Then we’ll work out a custody schedule and I won’t insert myself in your life unless it has to do with the baby, and we can co-parent like champions.”
That sounds depressing as fuck.
True considers this as she’s done before, her head giving the barest of nods.
“Wait—what does that mean?”
“It means…okay. Yes. Yes, I’ll fly out and stay with you in Arizona so we can get to know each other better and see where this goes.”
She’s holding her breath.
“Seriously?” I push myself back and up to my knees, bouncing on the mattress. “Are you being for real?”
True laughs and holds her stomach. “Yes, I’m being for real.” Her hands are pushing at my thighs now. “Would you stop that?”
Playfully I lower myself again and brace myself over her. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”
Contento. Happy.
Emocionado. Excited.
“And my brother will be there with Hollis so we can hang out together when y’all have free time.”
“Are you trying to kill my boner?”
“You have a boner?” Her hands slide down my abs until they’re moving across the silky mesh of my shorts, giving my erection a flirtatious squeeze. “Are you talking about this boner?” She pauses. “Did you know when I was in school, there was a kid named Andy and Boner was his nickname? I always wondered what that meant and never knew.”
“There was a kid nicknamed Boner at your school? That sounds fucking terrible. The guys must have been total assholes to stick him with a nickname like that.”
“Or they didn’t know what it meant either?”
“Oh, they knew what it meant. All guys know what it means the second they get one.”
The good news is, True is still rubbing mine, so I let the conversation continue.
“You think so?” she asks.
“Absolutely.”
My hips slowly begin to rotate.
We are going to bone. Screw.
Bang.
Score!
“Yeah, and he was a really nice guy, too,” True goes on as I dip to kiss her neck. “I wonder what he’s up to right now.”
“I don’t.” My nose is nuzzling the skin below her ear, a spot that drives her wild.
“But Boner? Come on now.”
I am trying to come now, if she’d stop talking about some other dude while I’m trying to seduce her.
“You smell so good,” I murmur into her ear, nibbling her lobe.
“Thank you, I showered today.”
“Sexy,” I tease, gliding my hand down her shirt, over her boob, rib cage, and waist. “Are these granny panties new?”
I snap the elastic band.
“They are,” she moans. “Came in a four pack. Cotton.”
“Nice.”
“I thought so.”
“Mmm, Hanes,” I say breathlessly. “Mami sexy.” Sexy mama. “La mina.” Mine.
“Uh-huh,” she moans, entirely unaware that I just called her mine. “I love it when you speak Spanish to me. It’s so sexy.”
“Not as sexy as you are in these high-waisted briefs.”
True laughs. “They’re about as sexy as those jalapeño boxer shorts you had on last week.”
I pull back to look at her face. “You don’t like my jalapeño boxer shorts?”
This is news to me.
“Um, they’re saggy in the ass, so t
hat’s going to be a hard no.”
Huh.
“I like those damn things, and now I have to burn them.”
“Don’t go doing anything drastic on my account.” She giggles. “It’s not like they’re jalapeño face.”
“Wow. True Wallace has jokes.”
“Some.” She blushes at the compliment. “I’m not as funny as my brothers…”
When she says it that way, it sounds like she means it.
“Hey.” I tilt her chin with the tip of my finger. “You’re adorable and funny and clever.”
I love it.
I love her.
I love True Wallace, the mother of my unborn baby.
Of course, I don’t tell her that; it would freak her the fuck out, and the last thing I need is for her to run from me again.
Nope.
I’m keeping that information in my back pocket for now.
“Lie here and let me take care of you.”
“Pfft, I planned on being lazy.” She stretches out, spreading her legs. “I had a rough day.”
She did not, but we had a few moments where the day was a bit…much.
Her mom and dad video-chatting a few times, not wanting to be left out of the excitement.
My mom.
Two of my sisters.
Her brothers.
Molly texting, not wanting to be left out either but having a babysitting job across town.
It’s been a lot.
But I guess what do you expect with families like ours?
Chaos.
True’s hair fans out on the pillow, looking all kinds of mermaid sexiness, dark against light. Tight t-shirt. White cotton underwear.
None of it is blatantly sexy; she’s certainly not lying here in Victoria’s Secret pin-up lingerie, but something about it has me harder than any porn I accidentally watched the past few weeks.
Listen, I was desperate, okay?!
White tee.
Dark nipples.
Wiggling hips.
Baby bump.
Muy caliente…
Very hot.
I kneel between her legs, adjusting us both on the bed so I can sprawl out below her and not fall off the mattress, my ass in the air as my head and fingers and hands graze her through the fabric of her underwear.