“What?” he said to her. “Iamgood.”
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Of course you’re good, dear. No one would ever suggestotherwise.”
I smiled at the teasing between the men and their wives, and the men and their teammates. They were like a family. The family Josh never reallyhad.
The family I did have—for the mostpart.
When I was eight, we had this one nanny who smelled like an old sweater a group of hungry moths had turned into a tasty meal. And discipline? She made a grumpy old schoolmaster from the 1800s—complete with a wooden cane—seempleasant.
One day, Chris and I had gone down to our favorite pond to catch frogs, even though this was strictly forbidden since proper young ladies didn’t catchfrogs.
Unfortunately for me, while trying to catch a particularly stubborn frog, I slipped on a rock, fell into the water, and sliced my leg open on a broken glass bottle. The good news? My parents were away for a few days. The bad news? Well, I think you can guess what itwas.
Long story short…Chris and I deliberated for the next five minutes whether I should just bleed to death or tell Miss When I Was A Young Lady what had happened. It was a tight vote—and if Simon hadn’t shown up and told me I would die a long and agonizingly painful death, I would have won. But because I sucked it up in the end and was taken to the doctor for stitches, I barely had a scar to show forit.
I checked the time on my phone and did the quick math. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to make a call.” I turned around in Josh’s arms and gave him a brief kiss. “I won’t belong.”
“Yousure?”
That smile on my face? Directed entirely at Josh. “Absolutely.”
I left him talking with his teammates and their wives and found a quiet spot in a nearby park. I sat on the empty bench and pulled up Mum’s number. Part of me hoped she would answer—the other part hoped shewouldn’t.
“Holly,” Mum said. “Are you okay?” She sounded genuinely concerned. That was what I got for not calling her as often as I should.Oops.
“I’m fine. Better than fine.” I took a deep breath and let it outslowly.
Quiz time—what’s the best way to tell your mother you’re pregnant when you aren’tmarried?
I didn’t know either, so I just blurted, “I’mpregnant.”
Wait forit.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Hmm. Maybe we weredisconnected.
Five.
“Are you sure?” she finally said, in a tone that would send kittens scrambling infear.
Not a single tear of joy was about to be shed from hereyes.
Shocked? Meneither.
Despite the immense disappointment in her tone, I smiled at my growing belly. “I’m twenty weeks now—so yes, I’msure.”
“Twenty weeks?” There might have been some unladylike cursing too—something I’d never heard from herbefore.
That couldn’t begood.
“Is Jack thefather?”
