I cover my eyes with my palm, wishing I could crawl under the couch. I hate that Olly’s friends are seeing my house with all its warts.
They can’t appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears I’ve already put into this place. How I stripped and re-finished the floors on the second floor. How I scrubbed every inch, even the walls. How I re-grouted two of the bathrooms and painted several bedrooms.
I suppose it’s not enough. They don’t see what I see.
Someday, it’ll be a gem. Someday, everyone will look at this house and wish it were theirs.
It’s not there yet.
The hallways are too dark, and as that asshole noted, I need to replace rotting floorboards on the porch and front steps. The windows need to be washed, and this place is drafty during the winter. Don’t get me started on the laundry room downstairs, which makes the Amityville Horror basement look like a vacation getaway spot.
Why does Olly want to move in here? The football house is much nicer than mine.
He’s obviously just doing this for the babies. I rub my tummy and try to keep the tears at bay. I’ve felt a million different emotions since I found out I was pregnant, but the one I’m experiencing at the moment is guilt.
Am I ruining Olly’s future? Would he do better this season if he stayed with the guys? Would that help him focus on football more?
I’ve always been kind of a loner, and I’m not crazy about the idea of needing Olly’s help. And it tweaks my pride to hear what the guys think of my beautiful house. I make a mental note to try to fix all the major repairs before the babies come in December. How I’ll swing that, I’m not sure.
Now I regret not starting repairs with my bedroom and bathroom. I figured it would motivate me to fix things if I woke every morning to a water-stained ceiling and ugly tile. That was dumb.
Once I’m sure my emotions are locked down, I grab my purse and head upstairs to the bedroom across the hall from mine.
I clear my throat, and the four giants turn my way. “I have to go to work, so…” I unhook a key from my ring and hand it to Olly. “That’s yours. I’ll be back this evening. Help yourself to whatever.” Not that I have much food in the house, but they could probably make sandwiches if they get hungry.
“Where do you work?” Cameron asks.
“A small advertising company. I thought it would be cool like Mad Men, and I’d help design ads, but I’m sorry to say I just make coffee, take notes, and file.”
Billy turns his back on me to assemble the bed.
“I’ll walk you out,” Olly says.
“It’s okay. Stay with your friends.” Staring at the back of Billy’s ugly head, I add, “Since you’re ‘giving up the Stallion Station,’ you should take advantage of your freedom while you have the chance. You know, before I chain you to a pipe in the basement or something.”
Damn, that sounded catty.
Cameron barks out a laugh, and Diesel smiles. “I love a woman with a little snark.”
Olly hooks his arm over my shoulders with a chuckle. “Come on, Mags. Don’t bloody my friends before they get to know your sparkling personality.”
“Ha-ha.”
He walks me out to my car. After I unlock my door, I turn to him. “You don’t have to do this. I was perfectly fine here by myself before”—I wave at my belly—“and I’ll be fine after. Worst-case scenario? I can take care of myself and anyone else who comes along on my own.”
His brilliant blue eyes go soft. “No one said you couldn’t. But would it be so bad if I were here to help?”
Staring at my shoes, I shake my head. “I just feel guilty. Like I’m tearing you away from what you really want. From your friends and… everything else.” Is he going to miss all of those hookups? I’m nauseous thinking about it.
Because the reality of this is starting to set in—I’m starting to fall for him. But because I’m a practical woman, I know the odds are stacked against us. I really don’t need my heart shattered on top of everything else.
He tilts my chin up. “I can’t be what you need if I’m staying at the football house. Sienna was right about how demanding the season will be. Training camp alone means I’ll be gone for three weeks. We’re required to live on campus for that.”
My gut tightens at the thought I won’t see him for so long. As much as I want to think I’m an island, deep down, I don’t want him to go. “You’ll tell me if you change your mind?”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“Because of me or the babies? If you’re just doing this for the kids, I need to know so I don’t make more of you being here.”
