So I hang up and call Ben.
After I explain what happened with my family over the weekend and my concerns about Santos, Ben blows out a big breath. “That’s a tough one, bro. You know how much shit Coach Krud gave me for having a kid. Maybe Maggie’s right. Keep the pregnancy quiet while you feel out Santos. Give him a chance to get to know you first.”
That’s not what I want to hear.
We talk through the pros and cons for a while, but Ben’s overall suggestion is to get the lay of the land with the new coach before I make any announcements.
Will the other guys have a different perspective?
But the words are barely out of my mouth when Johnny tells me to “get my ass back to the Stallion Station, ASAP.” And Rider tells me I should keep football a priority if I want to have any kind of future for my kids. In his words, “Babies are expensive as fuck.”
So… what? I leave Maggie and move back in with Cam and the guys? There has to be another way to deal with our situation.
Dread settles in my gut at the prospect of sharing the advice the guys gave me, but we promised each other to be as open and honest about this as possible. Because we’re screwed if we can’t trust each other.
Maggie might be putting on a brave face, but I can tell being pregnant scares her. And I think the stress of staying with my family caught up with her, because this morning she couldn’t keep down her breakfast.
I pour two peppermint iced teas and head outside, where she’s trying to pull the weeds out of what’s supposed to be a garden.
“Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?” I ask gently as I hand her the drink.
She wipes the sweat out of her eyes. “I’m too stressed out to take it easy, and the yard is a mess. I don’t want to get another citation from the city. It’s so embarrassing to know my neighbors report me.” She glares down the street and sips her tea.
“Want me to mow the rest of it?”
“It needs more than that. The mower won’t even get through the side yard. And I was hoping to plant some flowers along the front and clean up the walkway, but I’d rather work on the garden. I feel like if I can get one thing done in this yard that makes me happy, it’ll keep me going. Sometimes you have to do something for yourself, you know?”
I understand exactly what she means, and it makes me wonder if this decision about football is about what’s best for my family back in Heartland, the babies growing in Maggie’s belly, or myself.
Wish I fucking knew, because this shit is twisting me all up inside.
I swallow, my throat feeling thick. “Can we talk? Let’s sit on the porch.” I offer my hand to help her stand and smile at the sight of her in overalls. I love this about Maggie. She never puts on airs to try to impress anyone.
When you play on a team of elite athletes, there’s a lot of dick-swinging. Someone’s always trying to have the most bravado or the biggest bark. It’s exhausting. Even some of the women I’ve dated felt the need to brag. Amelia never shut up about her modeling gigs.
Maggie’s quiet confidence is really attractive. This woman can do anything. Grout a bathroom? No problem. Sand a floor? Done. Design some wedding invitations? In a heartbeat.
Reaching up the side of the porch, I put down our now-empty glasses and turn back to her.
“You know what might be cool? In the back, we could espalier some pear trees. It would still give you plenty of room for your garden, but then you’d have some fruit at some point.” I point to the section of the yard.
“What’s espalier?”
“A technique of pruning and tying the trees or bushes so they grow flat and you maximize production. I watched a documentary on it once. A French monk in the sixteen hundreds discovered the trees near the monastery walls produced the most fruit, and this really cool technique was born.”
“Sounds riveting,” she teases.
I yank her into my arms and tickle her. “Are you giving me shit?”
“Just kidding!” She squeals and tries to wiggle away, but I lift her, pin her against the house, and kiss her until she moans and wraps her ankles around my waist.
After how upset she was yesterday, I’m thrilled she’s letting me kiss her. I didn’t ask to sleep in her bed last night, and she didn’t invite me. I kinda felt like she wanted some space. Although now I’m not so sure that’s what she needs.
Someone coughs behind me.
I press my forehead to Maggie’s shoulder. It’s just that kind of day, isn’t it? That cough sounded distinctly feminine, and there’s only one person who would be interrupting us right now.
Reluctantly, I let Maggie slide down me, adjust my junk, and slowly turn around. “Amelia. What’s up?”
