I blink, needing a second to make sense of her words. I’m not an expert with women, but I think she just said she’s upset we can’t have sex. Because if I have to read the tea leaves, I doubt her doctor will give Maggie the go-ahead to bone at her next appointment given how the pregnancy is going so far.
In the same way Coach encourages us to speak up, I need her to tell me when she needs something.
I kiss her forehead. “Mags, I’m not going anywhere. Is sex with you transcendental? Absolutely. Would I give my left nut to do it with you? Any day. But darlin’, it’s just a few months. Tell me when you need help with something, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen. I’ll move back here full time. Diesel already promised to keep the football house under control.”
“Really?” The hopeful look in her eyes kills me. I really need to be around as much as possible, whether she asks me to or not.
“Really. We can get through this. I promise.”
It’s a promise I aim to keep.
How hard could that be if we love each other?
57
MAGGIE
Will you be upset if I can’t make it home for lunch?
I smile sadly at Olly’s text.
No. Do what you have to do.
The guys get fed great food on campus anyway. All I have here are sandwiches. Olly tries to stock my fridge, but really, when is he supposed to go grocery shopping? And we don’t have money for delivery.
He’s sweet to try to make it home from campus when he can. I appreciate the effort, but it’s not going to change my situation.
The last few weeks have been a bummer. Although Olly’s kicking ass on the field, which thrills me to no end, I’m stuck at home. Having twins automatically makes this a high-risk pregnancy, so Dr. Perkins said she doesn’t want to take any chances given the issues I’ve had. Since my placentas look good on the ultrasound—which requires drinking a ton of water—I’m able to be on bed rest at home instead of in the hospital. Trying to feel grateful for that bright side.
So far, my professors have been helpful in forwarding my assignments, but I’m definitely going stir-crazy.
Someone knocks on the front door, and I groan. My couch is deep and super-comfy, but not conducive to launching my big, pregnant self off the cushions. I scoot to the end and use the arm rest to push myself to standing.
The person knocks again, and I yell, “I’m coming! Hold your horses.”
When I open the door, I’m so shocked, I squeal. “Sienna!” She pulls me into her arms, and I hug her tight. “Sorry. Am I impaling you on my belly?”
“Look at you!” She reaches for my stomach and pauses. “Can I touch you?”
It’s sweet that she asks. So many people don’t before they grab pregnant women, which is particularly awful when you don’t even know the person. “Of course.”
Her eyes are wide as she runs her hand over me. “How far along are you now?”
“Thirty weeks. They’re the size of eggplants.” Although judging by my giant boyfriend, his boys are probably bigger.
“You’re so close now.”
“They need to bake at least another month and a half.” I explain how twins are considered full term at thirty-six weeks, though I hope to percolate my boys as long as possible. “How long are you in town for? Is Ben here too?”
“We’re here through the weekend, since he doesn’t have a game. We planned to see Olly play tomorrow. Maybe we could all sit together.”
I wish. “I can’t go. I’m on bed rest.”
Her brows furrow. “What are we doing standing here, then? Get inside and get your ass in bed or on the couch or somewhere comfy. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it.”
I laugh. “You don’t need to wait on me.”
We settle in my living room where I have a few snacks and a huge jug of water. “I have that sports drink you like in my fridge. Help yourself to one. I’d get it, but I don’t think I can hoist myself off the couch again.”
