One-Timer (Carolina Comets), page 15
Like really, really love that part. I probably love that part way more than I’m supposed to. We’ve been sleeping together for a while now, and I almost can’t remember a time when we weren’t sleeping together.
I get it. It’s a release for her, and I’m happy to help her out, but I have no idea what that’s going to mean for us down the road.
I don’t want to think about that or any heavy bullshit right now. It’s game day, and I don’t come to her apartment on game day to get all up inside my head. I come here to relax.
Also, almost every time I’ve come here, we’ve won, but I’m not going to tell her that.
She sighs, then loops her arms around my neck, her fingers going into the edges of my hair, tugging lightly at the strands. “Okay, fine. You can stay.”
“I can?”
She nods. “Yes. But, Lowell?”
“Hmm?”
“I changed my mind. I’d really like to have sex now.”
“Do it again, but slower.”
“Slower?”
“Yeah.” She licks her lips as I follow her instructions. “Oh god. Yeah, just like that.”
“You like that?”
“I do. I like that a lot.”
“You want more?”
She traps her lip between her teeth, watching me intently. “Slower.”
“I can’t go any slower. My jaw is getting cramped already.” I wiggle it back and forth, then set my knife down, sitting back in my chair, patting my full stomach. “Plus, I’m stuffed.”
“It was one steak!”
“It was one steak two steaks ago, Hollis. I am full.”
We’ve been sitting here for the last two hours eating dinner, and since Hollis is not allowed to have rare meat, she’s been forcing me to eat the steaks for her.
And by forcing, I mean I definitely wanted to.
“Wimp.”
To be fair, the steaks are fairly small, and if I hadn’t eaten an entire basket of bread before they arrived, I probably could have finished this one too. What I don’t tell Hollis is that I’m trying not to make myself too full because I have a feeling with the way she’s been rubbing her thighs together all night, this evening is going to end with both of us naked in her bed.
“Excuse me, waiter, do you think I could get about, oh, twelve ounces of this ranch to go, please?”
Hollis immediately smacks her hand over her mouth, breathing in and out deeply through her nose. I know right away it was just the mention of ranch. I tried to put some on my salad last week and she ran to the bathroom faster than I’ve ever seen her run—and that includes when I accidentally made her pee her pants…for the second time.
The couple at the table who just asked for the ranch notices.
“Zachary!” the woman seethes. “Stop it!”
“What? This place has really good ranch, and we live like an hour away. There’s no way I’m leaving here without some to go.”
“Uh, let me go check with my manager.” The waiter scurries off, looking as concerned as I am because this guy just ordered an entire small bottle of ranch to go.
The woman jerks her head toward our table. “You just made that woman sick with your disgusting ranch habit.”
He gasps. “How dare you! Ranch is not disgusting—you think my ranch habit is cute!”
“Stop saying it!” She glances at Hollis, who is starting to look a little green. “I’m pretty sure she’s about a second away from blowing.”
Hollis shakes her head up and down, eyes wide, and I laugh, which earns me a glare.
The woman leans over. “I am so sorry about him. Sometimes he leaves his manners at home.” She glances down at Hollis’ round belly. “Oh, you’re pregnant! That actually explains so much. You know when my best friend, Zoe, was pregnant, she was the exact same way. Even the mere mention of”—she glances at her husband—“well, the stuff that shall not be named and she was ready to just lose it.”
Hollis takes another couple of deep breaths and removes her hand from her mouth. She musters up a small smile. “It’s fine. I’m the one who is sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal with my problem.”
The woman waves her off. “It’s no big deal at all.” She turns her eyes on me, squinting. “You look really familiar.”
“Delia!” her husband admonishes.
“What?” she asks. “Doesn’t he look familiar?”
The guy puts his head in his hands. “That’s because you watch him all the time. He’s the captain for the Carolina Comets, who we’re season ticket holders for!”
“Oh!” For a moment she looks embarrassed, then she waves her hand with a shrug. “You know I just go for the snacks and hockey butts. I couldn’t tell a first trick from a downtouch or whatever they’re called.” She sticks her hand out. “Hi, I’m Delia. This is my husband, Zach.”
“Hollis.” She introduces herself, shaking the woman’s hand, then points to me. “And Cam—well, you know him as Lowell.”
Zach clears his throat. “Despite my wife not knowing you, I’m a huge fan. I know it’s a small world, but you might be a little familiar with my brother. He’s an agent for a couple guys on your team. Shep Clark?”
“Ah, yeah. I’ve met Shep a few times. He reps Rhodes and Wright.” Honestly, the dude is a gifted agent and got both of them some pretty sweet deals recently. “Definitely a small world. You said you live an hour away, yeah?”
“Yeah, depending on traffic.”
“Have you ever been out to the brewery in Caseyville?”
“We haven’t. Driven by lots of times on our way out to Slice.” Zach pats his stomach. “That pizza there is killer.”
“So good. Awful for my waistline in the off-season though. I actually co-own the brewery with my sister.”
“No shit? Well, we’re definitely stopping in now.”
“You should meet up there with Sully and Porter the next time you guys get together to talk apps and security or whatnot,” Delia says.
“Apps?”
“Yep,” Zach answers. “My company builds them.”
“Yeah? My sister mentioned something about wanting to maybe get an app for the brewery. We should get together sometime and talk about that.”
Zach’s eyes widen. “Dude. I would love that. And I won’t even ask you to sign my jersey at the meeting.”
“You’ll just wait until after, right?” Delia asks.
“Obviously.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
“I hate to cut this short,” his wife says, looking at her phone, “but we should head out. Don’t want to miss putting the kids to bed.”
“You two have kids?” Hollis asks, perking up. “How many?”
She’s been doing that often lately. Anytime there’s a baby or children around, she pays closer attention to them like she’s trying to glean some insight into mothering.
“Eight.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “Eight?”
She laughs. “Sorry, I should have clarified—our kids are goats.”
“Pygmy goats to be exact,” Zach says, pulling his phone out. “Here, look.”
“Are those Harry Potter sweaters?”
“Kick-ass, right?”
“Fantastic. The Comets jersey is a nice touch too, but I’m probably a little biased.”
Zach laughs, then adds my number to his phone and pockets it. “We’ll let you get back to your meal and talk later about the app for the brewery.”
“Sounds good.”
We shake hands just as the waiter comes back out with a tub of ranch for him. I’ve never seen someone’s face light up so bright before. He cradles it to his chest, and I swear I hear him call it his precious.
“Maybe we’ll see you at a game?” Delia says as she stands.
Zach slips her jacket around her. “Yeah, you can teach this one that there are no touchdowns in hockey.”
Hollis laughs. “Don’t worry, I am all up to date on the lingo. We’ll make you a pro in no time.”
She was resistant about learning the game at first, but over the last several months she’s really taken a liking to it, and it’s something that really turns me on. I like seeing her excited about the game I love so much, and I like seeing her in the stands cheering me on while I play.
Collin and Rhodes have said before that they swear their feet move faster and their sticks hit the puck better when they know Harper and Ryan are in the crowd. I always thought they were full of shit, but I get it now. It’s comforting to know there’s someone in the stands who doesn’t just care about your game, but about you.
It’s also great motivation to work hard, because if I play my cards right and we win, I’ll score twice that night.
They both wave and turn to leave, but they don’t make it far before I hear Zach say to Delia, “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him.”
“What? He was sitting down. I couldn’t see his ass.”
Hollis snickers. “They were fun, but when she said eight kids, I about peed myself. I couldn’t imagine. I don’t even have room for one kid in my apartment, let alone eight.” She shakes her head, sipping on her water. “Speaking of…I, uh, found a place that’s between the rink and your house.”
I sit up taller in my chair, trying not to let my breath sound as shaky as it feels in my chest. “Oh?”
“I—I figured it would be nice to be closer to you for when the baby comes.”
“Yeah, uh, I’d, uh, like that.”
We sound like scratched-up records, skipping around our words. I especially feel uncomfortable because I have no idea what I’m supposed to say here.
Should I offer to let her move in? Is that what she’s hinting at? If not, am I supposed to offer to pay for her apartment? I can afford it, so it’s not a big deal, but what’s the etiquette here? What is even here?
What are we doing? What are—
“Oh, no!” The waiter comes rushing by our table in a panic. “I gave that man blue cheese instead of ranch!”
This time, Hollis does vomit.
Whatever here is, we’ll have to figure it out later.
18
HOLLIS
“Oh. My. Gosh!”
My mother’s screech is so loud it makes my ears ring.
She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a hug the best she can since my bump has grown so much. “You look adorable, Hollis!”
I force a grin because I sure don’t feel adorable.
I feel gigantic, exhausted, and just plain overwhelmed all the time. If my feet aren’t hurting, it’s my back. If I don’t have a headache, I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open. If I’m not hungry, I’m cranky. It has been nonstop one thing after the next, and I am really looking forward to these next few months being over with.
My mother gently cups my protruding belly, and I momentarily feel guilty because I don’t even want her to touch it.
Just Lowell.
“You’re beautiful.” She runs her hands over me. “Just beautiful.”
“Mom,” I whine. “Stop.”
“You might as well stop while you’re ahead, Mrs. Kelly. She’s never going to listen. I try to tell her every day that she’s gorgeous, and she always argues with me.” Lowell shoots me a look, then sticks his hand out. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’m Cameron.”
My mother looks down her nose at his hand and then at his face, back to his hand. Finally she slaps it out of the way and pulls him into a giant hug.
“Oh, don’t be silly, my dear. Hug me! We’re family now!”
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard somebody call Lowell family, and it’s the first time I realize he is family. Even if Lowell and I aren’t together, this baby will always connect us.
That somehow terrifies me and gives me comfort all at once.
My mother shoots me a grin over his shoulder, then winks. He’s cute, she mouths.
And she’s right. He is cute. He’s really, really cute.
He’s cute when he’s doing things like rubbing my feet or my belly, fixing me a snack, or grabbing my phone because I forgot to get it before I sat down.
But my favorite part of him? My favorite part of him is at night when he lays his head on my belly and feels our baby move. He does that nearly every night that he’s home, actually. I can’t remember the last time we’ve spent a night apart from one another.
That’s another thing that somehow terrifies me and gives me comfort all at once. I’m getting so used to him, and I’m starting to worry I’m getting too used to him.
We’ve still yet to discuss the mechanics of what happens after the baby is here. Does he want to move in? Does he want me to move in? Or is he satisfied with what we’re doing now? If he’s not satisfied with what we’re doing now, does he want to co-parent, or will he fight for custody? Will he pay child support, or will he work something else out?
I don’t know, and part of me doesn’t want to know the answer to any of these questions. I know that’s not logical or smart and this is something we need to figure out soon, but not now.
Not now because it’s Christmastime and my mom just drove across the state to be here. Though I’ll never admit it out loud to her because she’ll give me that look that says I told you so, I missed my mom and I need her now more than ever.
My mom places her hand on my bump again, then looks at Lowell. “Blink twice if it’s a girl.”
He doesn’t react at all.
He’s been very tight-lipped about what we’re having, and I love his dedication to it.
“Wait a second—did you just let Mom touch your belly?” Harper asks from the kitchen. “That’s bullshit! You never let me touch it.”
“Really? I touch it all the time,” Lowell says.
Harper waves him off. “You don’t count, Dad.”
I don’t miss the way he smiles when she calls him that. I’ve picked up on how much he enjoys the thought of being a dad, which is exactly why I got him the cheesiest gift I could think of for Christmas, and I can’t wait to give it to him.
“Oh, hey, guys,” Collin says as he comes padding down the hallway wearing a pair of joggers with the Comets logo on them. “Sorry, I was putting the dogs up. They get a little rambunctious once too many people are here, and I didn’t want them bothering anyone.”
He wraps his arms around me in a gentle hug.
It’s funny because every time I’ve seen Collin since I told him I’m pregnant, he hugs me, only he always does it lightly like he’s terrified he’s going to break me by squeezing me too hard.
I know Harper and Collin don’t want kids and I completely respect that, but I also know they’re going to make the world’s greatest aunt and uncle.
“Hey, Col.” I squeeze him back just as lightly.
“You’re huge,” he says, and I feel the moment he realizes what he said. He releases me and steps back two feet. “I…I mean… You’re…”
Lowell takes an aggressive step toward him, stepping in front of me as if to protect me.
Not going to lie, the move makes me totally wet.
I grab Lowell’s shirt, tugging him back. “Down, boy, I know what he meant.” I turn to Collin. “I think what you meant to say was, Gosh, Hollis, that baby sure is growing and you’re carrying that extra weight that is definitely not yours so well.”
He flicks a finger gun at me. “That. That’s exactly what I meant.”
My mother points to Lowell. “Is this one dumb like this one is?” she asks, referring to Collin.
“Sometimes,” I answer honestly.
“Hey!” Lowell objects. “I am not.”
“You literally told me two days ago that I was ‘cute for a pregnant chick.’”
“I didn’t… I was…”
Harper walks up and smacks both of them on the back of the head. “Idiots. Both of you.”
They both turn red at their moments of idiocy.
The doorbell chimes and Harper grabs Collin, dragging him toward the front door for host duties.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go pretend to be good hosts and greet the rest of your idiot friends.”
“They aren’t idiots,” he argues.
“I beg to differ. I’ve met Miller.”
“Eh.” He tips his head back and forth. “Fair.”
“So, Lowell,” my mother says, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the kitchen. She hops up on a stool and pats the one next to her, indicating he should sit too. “Tell me, how did you and my daughter meet exactly? She’s been very hush-hush on the subject.”
My mother and I have been dancing around this subject for months. I know she would never judge me for what happened, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing that I got pregnant by my one-night stand the night of my sister’s wedding. It’s even more embarrassing that I punched that one-night stand the day before because I was an emotional wreck.
It’s just not something I’ve wanted to rehash.
“Well, Mrs. Kelly, it’s kind of a funny story…” Lowell says, taking a seat next to her.
She slaps at his shoulder. “Oh, stop with that Mrs. Kelly stuff. I’m not much of a Mrs. anymore. My bastard cheating husband has been dead for years.”
She says it lightheartedly, but I know what my father did still hurts her, even after all these years. Just like even though I’m pregnant and having a baby with another man, I’m still hurt by what Thad did to me.
Sometimes when I think about everything I’ve been through in the last six or seven months, it kind of blows my mind. I jumped from one life-changing situation to the next with no room to breathe. No wonder I’m so damn tired all the time.
As if they don’t want me to forget about them, the baby moves, and I lay my hand on my belly to calm them.
“Just call me Evelyn,” my mother tells him. “Or Nana.” She looks at me. “Just no Grandma or Grandmother. I want a cool, fun, young, hip nickname.”
