But I think I want to ask.
Not because she’s pregnant, but because I love her.
36
OLLY
Gramps hobbles over to me as the party starts to break up. “Finally got your girl, huh?”
“Finally?”
“Don’t pretend you two haven’t been sniffing around each other for years. Maggie liked you from the time she was yea tall.” He lowers his hand to indicate when she was younger.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
He shakes his head at me like I’m an idiot. “Well, don’t fuck it up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I know what it’s like to be young and dumb. Just put her first—well, first after football—and you should be fine.”
Football has always come first. That’s never been an issue, and it’s scary as hell to consider I have something, or rather someone—soon to be someones—who will have to be my top priority.
Wanting to change the subject, I motion toward his foot. He had to have three toes amputated, and his diabetes made the surgery and recovery riskier. “I’m glad to see you up and about. Mom texts me updates every few days. Says you’re a pain in the ass, but feeling better.”
His gruff laugh makes everyone look over at us. “I’m not keeling over yet. Still gotta ask that old bird over on Main Street out on a date.”
“Really?”
He nods and rubs the whiskers on his chin. “It’s good to have a bucket list. I keep adding to it so I feel like I have a reason to live.”
“Aren’t your kids and grandkids reason enough?”
“Eh. Sometimes.”
I laugh at his wry expression. My dad joins us, and we park our asses in the corner and debate who the school might sign on as coach and the pros and cons of each selection. Lone Star is supposed to announce the new guy any day now.
Waiting has me on some sharp needles. If we get another Coach Krugman, he’ll cut me zero slack for having a pregnant girlfriend. I need a coach who isn’t gonna be an asshole. It seems like a frivolous thing to pray for, but I find myself pleading we get the right person for the team.
When Gramps goes to his trailer, I help him get settled and then head off to find Maggie, only to realize she went to bed already.
My mom places her hand on my arm. “Is Maggie okay, honey? She looked so tired. And I love her to pieces for being so excited about Kayla’s pregnancy, but Maggie seemed a little more emotional than I’d expect her to be.”
I want to tell her, Not for a woman who’s pregnant with twins, but I don’t. “She has a lot going on right now. She’s a little stressed. It’s nothing she can’t handle.” It’s true. Maggie is fierce as fuck. It’s one of the reasons I think I’ve always liked her.
“I’m going to give her a box of peppermint tea, because stress is bad for her arteries.”
“Oooo-kay.” My mom and her remedies. But if it’ll help Maggie relax, I’ll make it for her.
When I crack open the door to my bedroom, the lights are out, and Maggie is sound asleep. She looks peaceful. I remember waking up to her the morning after the wedding and wanting more of that.
My heart beats hard at the thought that I’m really close to figuring this out with her. We could make this happen. Be a couple. Parents. Lovers. Husband and wife.
Terrifying shit. But also incredible.
As quietly as possible, I kick off my jeans and t-shirt. I keep on my boxer briefs and slide under the covers and spoon her warm body. I smile into her hair as she sighs and wiggles back against me.
I’ve missed this. Just holding her in my arms feels phenomenal.
