Shaking her head, she wipes a few tears that escape. “My mom has her hands full with my sister, and she’ll only worry when she can’t come up here. And your parents just started to tolerate me again. How excited do you think your mom is going to be if you tell her you’re bailing on a mandatory weightlifting session because of me?”
“Mags, who cares what they think? You’re more important than their opinions about how we live our lives.” I love my parents, but I’m about to have my own family. It’s time they realize I have different responsibilities now.
Her voice cracks. “I just don’t want them to hate me.”
She’s breaking my damn heart.
I kneel next to her again and brush a strand of hair out of her bloodshot eyes. “Are you sure you’re feeling better?”
She nods, obviously trying to rein in her emotions. “The water is helping. I swear.”
Mentally, I review her bed rest restrictions. “How will you get to your appointment if you can’t drive?”
She chews on her bottom lip. “Could we switch cars? I could drive your truck, which is automatic. That won’t put any extra pressure on, you know, that area.”
I wince. “Will you think I’m a weenie if I tell you I can’t drive stick?” A laugh spills out of her, and I smile. If I can make her laugh, maybe everything will be okay.
I consider our options. There’s no way I’m asking Amelia to take her again. Once was bad enough. Billy has weights that morning too, but Cam does a later session. “Would it be okay if I ask Cam to take you? I’d feel better than just sending you off in an Uber.”
“Do you think he’d mind?”
“He thinks you’re better than sliced bread. I’m sure he’ll help if he can.”
Of course, Cam is happy to take her.
The next day, I make her breakfast in bed, bring her water and juice, and rub her poor swollen feet and ankles. It’s hard to believe the game was yesterday because football is the last thing on my mind.
Billy and Cam watch a replay of the game, which is usually one of my favorite things to do, but I have difficulty concentrating. It’s almost ten at night when I remember I have an assignment due tomorrow, so I make a pot of coffee and settle in at the kitchen table to get my shit done.
Even though I have enough credits to graduate, I have to maintain a full-time academic courseload in order to play football and qualify for athletic scholarships. And that sucks because I definitely have the college equivalent of senioritis.
On Monday morning, before I take off to the gym, I say a prayer for the beautiful woman sleeping in our bed.
After the appointment, she texts me that she’s fine but on bed rest. I try calling her before practice, but it goes to voicemail. Cam doesn’t know much more than I do. He says she didn’t tell him much except that the contractions are better. When I finally get home at nine at night, I’m relieved to find her awake.
I sit next to her on the bed. “Tell me everything.” Leaning over, I kiss her forehead.
She tugs on a loose thread on her blanket. “I’m on bed rest for at least a week, which might extend longer depending on how my next appointment goes, and I have a laundry list of things I can’t do from now until I deliver. At the top is sex.”
“Sorry, darlin’. It’s not the end of the world, though. At least you’re here and not in the hospital.”
She nods slowly. “Yeah. You’re right. That would be worse.”
“You’re doing great. This is just a small bump in the road. You’re juggling so much—classes and your job.”
“About that.” Her lips tighten. “When I called to tell my job about going on bed rest again, they released me from my position because I’ll be missing too much work. My boss said I could come back after I gave birth, but explained I was taking up an opportunity that could go to another student who could actually do the job. He said he felt bad and that it wasn’t his decision. He said if it was up to him, he’d keep me on, but since I can’t go in for who knows how long, this might be for the best.”
Didn’t they just give her a promotion because they liked her work? Swear to God, my vision goes red. “They can’t fucking do that. It’s discrimination.”
“Perhaps, but I’m in no position to contest it. And maybe he’s right. I’m so tired all the time, Olly. When I’m there, sometimes I’m a zombie. I can barely keep up with my coursework, let alone that job. I knew that promotion was a fluke.”
I had no idea things had gotten so bad for her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“When would I have had the chance? You’re gone from sunup until after I’m in bed. You want me to text you to let you know I’m so exhausted I can’t see straight? What’s that going to accomplish?”
Guilt churns my stomach. Maggie is more than understanding about the commitments I have with football, but maybe she shouldn’t be.
She swallows, her face turning red. “I thought I had turned a corner in the last few days. The nausea finally stopped. You and I finally got to reconnect. You’re gone so much, and I can’t imagine not being with you like that when we barely get any time together as it is.”
