Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (22 page)

I start to cry. “Mom, please. It’s okay. I’m okay. Look at me!” I laugh and motion to the ocean behind us and the reception taking place further down the beach. “I’d say I’m doing alright.”

We hug again. As we pull apart, my mother speaks. “How is school?”

“Amazing.” I launch into stories about my new classes, about how I’m going to take an extra year and go for a degree in chemistry with a double major in women’s studies.
Real
women’s studies. We talk for the better part of an hour.

Saint appears at one point to bring us snacks, water, and an extra chair. I love him for giving us space and time on this day.

It’s perfect.

Weddings aren’t about the bride and groom anyway. They’re for family. And we have a family. All the family we could ever want.

That night, Saint carries my heavy frame over the threshold of our honeymoon penthouse suite. We don’t have just have sex. We make love.

For the second time today, I feel like I’m floating.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

SAINT

“And we’re back in the Minnneapolis stadium studio with Minneapolis’s own Saint Williams. Saint, how are you doing today?”

“I’m great, Jenny,” I say with a smile. The truth is that I’m sitting under burning studio lights and trying not to sweat from the heat. “Thanks for having me.”

“Saint, you and your team have had a brilliant season so far.”

I nod. “It’s ninety-nine percent my team and not me.”

She laughs in that fake newscaster way. “That’s very humble of you, as always. To change the subject to what the people
really
want to hear about, I want to congratulate you on your wedding last weekend.”

“Thank you so much,” I reply.

“I’ll definitely be tuning in when the special airs next month.”

“Don’t tune in for me. Tune in for my gorgeous bride,” I look behind the camera to where Esther is perched. She makes a gesture like she’s going to slit my throat for mentioning her on national television.

“But I think the real question people want you to answer is this: what happens when the baby comes? What if it’s on game day?”

“My commitments are both to my team and to my wife. I think we’ll leave the timing up to God and go from there.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t miss a game to go assist your wife in childbirth?”

I demur. “Like I said, no sense in worrying. It’s in God’s hands.”

The rest of the interview is filled with endless questions about our season. The team sent me to do this interview because they call me Mr. Hollywood. Yeah, they give me shit over it, but I think they’re happy to not have to be on camera.

I really lucked the fuck out; I have the best teammates in the entire world.

The interview ends and I walk over to Esther to give her a kiss. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah,” she says. Her teeth are gritted. “My back just hurts, you know.” She kisses me on the cheek. “You, sir, belong in the locker room.”

I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something she’s not telling me. “Are you absolutely
sure
that you’re alright?”

“Just take me at my word, Saint. And go kick some serious ass out on that football field.”

She squeezes my hand and I run downstairs, still feeling like something’s wrong.

But I don’t have time for that. There’s a game that needs winning.

***

It’s the fourth quarter, and we’re tied up with ten seconds left in the game. Coach is yelling at all of us. It looks like it’s going to come down to a penalty kick.

“I want you to get out there, Kirk,” he says to our kicker. “And focus on nothing but that field goal. You’ve hit easier targets with your eyes blindfolded.” He glances at me with a strange look on his face. “We don’t want this to go into overtime, alright?”

Nobody else seems to notice the strangeness in Coach’s voice, so I ignore it. We cheer on Kirk.

He makes the field goal. The stadium is so loud I feel like my eardrums are going to burst. I run into the pit of players to congratulate Kirk, but the hand of our quarterback pulls me away. “You gotta go, man,” he says with a wide smile.

“What?”

“You’re having a fucking baby, Williams. You gotta go! Run!”

I don’t stop until I’m in the locker room, where I tear off my clothes and hop into the shower.

“You’re
showering
?” Coach yells. He’s followed me into the room. “Boy, she’s in hour four of labor. There’s already a car waiting for you. Your wife doesn’t care if you’re smelly or not. Trust me. I was late to my first-born’s delivery and you don’t want that kind of wrath on your head.”

I hop out and towel off, my heart beating. Coach hands me clean jeans and a t-shirt. “Here, son. Good thing you aren’t driving. I bet you don’t know your ass from a trashcan right now.”

“Thanks,” I say. My mind is numb. “I’m having a baby. Oh, God. I’m having a baby.”

Coach has to grab me by the arm and take me out to the car that’s waiting. There are two motorcycle police escorts that clear the traffic leading out of the stadium, but we get stuck once we’re on main roads filled with fans eager to get home.

“Can’t you hop the median?” I ask the driver. “My wife is in labor.”

The driver glances back at me. We’re in an SUV. He can do this. He floors it and speeds around the gridlocked traffic, flying over the median and a sidewalk and onto the exit ramp. The police follow us. “If I get a ticket for this, you’re paying it.”

“I’m good for it. Don’t worry,” I reply. I’m finally in focus mode. This is just like a game, that’s all. I just need to keep my eyes on the prize. “You have any kids?”

“Three,” the driver says. “Best decision of my entire life. But I also manage to question that decision daily.” He laughs.

“Right,” I say, having no idea how to respond to that.

The police motorcycles get in front of us again and lead us down the highway. It’s clear sailing to the hospital. The SUV is barely braking and I hit the ground running. “Esther Williams,” I say to the nurse at the front.

“Aren’t you Saint-“

“I need my wife. She’s in labor. Tell me the floor,” I say.

She’s star struck but manages to type into the computer system to give me my answer. “Fourth floor, room two sixteen.”

I’m through the door to the emergency staircase and taking them three at a time. This is nothing. This is what I train for in practice. Well,
this
exact situation isn’t what I train for. Not running up the stairs to my pregnant wife; I mean cardio.

And it doesn’t fail me.

I burst into the delivery room and see Esther bouncing on a round birthing ball. I know what it is because I’ve gone to every single fucking one of her labor and delivery classes. I even went once when
she
couldn’t make it because of exams.

“Delilah!” I yell out.

She grimaces at me as pain rockets through her body. I rush over and she squeezes my hand. Some of my knuckles pop from the pressure. “You were in labor during the pre-game show, weren’t you?”

She exhales as the contraction ends. “Football is just as important as this baby. I figured I could hold on until you got here.” She points at her belly. “And I did!”

I kiss her on the mouth. “How dilated are you? Did you decide against the epidural? When did your water break?”

“I ran to the bathroom when Jenny was grilling you about defensive plays. It broke when I was peeing, which is probably the best timing I’ve ever had in my entire life, to be honest.” She laughs but it turns into a groan when another contraction hits.

I check my watch. “What was that? Ninety seconds? Have you been recording the intervals?”

She takes my head in her hands and lowers her voice. “Look at me. This doesn’t need to be a whole big thing. Just breathe. I need
you
to breathe – oooooh.” Another contraction hits.

“That’s under thirty seconds now,” I say. “Let me get you into the bed.” I nearly have to lift her into it. I hit the button for the nurse. “I can’t believe you didn’t get the epidural.”

Esther laughs. She’s sweaty and red-faced. But she’s never looked more beautiful. “Women have been going through childbirth for thousands of years without painkillers.” The next contraction hits and I don’t know how she’s keeping it together.

I
feel like I’m going to pass out.

The nurse arrives and hands me ice chips. I pass them to Esther but the nurse objects. “They’re for
you
, Mr. Williams. You might want to sit down, too. You’re looking a little pale.” She rolls her eyes at my weakness. “Now, Esther. The doctor will be in here in a minute. You’re going to have to push a little-“

Esther is grunting. “I think something’s happening,” she yells.

The nurse hastily checks under the blue blanket and gasps. “Alright, one more push, then!”

The room is instantly filled with the best sound I’ve ever heard in my life.

My baby crying.

Esther looks at me with a tearful smile. “I
told
you I could wait until you got here.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

ESTHER

The snow falls outside of our cozy, modern log cabin home. Saint is in the kitchen baking an apple pie, and I’m on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

Our real pine Christmas tree sits in the corner of the room, colorful lights blinking at me and reflecting off of the ornaments.

We moved into this house a few weeks ago after renting an apartment over the summer and through the fall. It was a custom build that we bought right before the interior finishes needed to be decided. The previous family had to back out when they got a job offer overseas.

The house is perfect.

Triple-insulated windows fill the back wall and overlook a frozen lake. It’s like something out of
Little House on the Prairie
but so much better. You know, that whole running water and electricity thing really adds value.

Marie, our daughter, is sound asleep against my chest, her sweet breath filling my nose. It’s amazing how good babies smell. Sometimes I think I actually want to eat her.

Saint has kept me from cannibalism, thankfully.

“You want tea?” Saint calls from the kitchen.

“Yes, please!” I call back. Marie can sleep through anything. “The pie filling smells delicious.”

“It’ll be ready in a bit. I just put it in the oven,” Saint says, bringing me a mug of hot tea. He bends down to kiss Marie on her completely bald head. “You think she’s ever going to have hair? Or will we have to change her name to Lex Luthor Williams?”

I laugh. “It’s going to be hard to leave her with my mom when I go back to school in a few weeks.”

Saint sits next to me and wraps his muscular arm around my shoulders. “Don’t forget, she’ll be with me after the playoffs for a few months until training starts. She’ll be fine.”

“I know
she
will be fine. It’s
me
I’m more worried about,” I nuzzle my mouth against Marie’s soft head.

“You have chemicals to study. Remember you’re going to save the world with your scientific knowledge when the zombie apocalypse finally arrives.” Saint brushes his fingers across Marie’s peaches and cream cheek.

“I think the biology majors will be more important,” I say, playing along. “They’re the ones studying viruses. I guess I should change my focus to immunology if zombies are the thing we’ll be worrying about in the future.”

“I like that you’re smart. It just makes you that much sexier.” He kisses my lips, lingering a bit too long.

“I think I could go put Marie down and we could get in a quickie before I need to make dinner,” Saint whispers, licking my earlobe.

“Mom’s coming over for dinner,” I say and he abruptly ceases kissing me. “Hopefully that’s okay.”

Saint laughs. “I don’t care so much that she’ll be walking the twenty feet through the snow from our guest house to our kitchen.” He stands up and stretches. “I do wish that I could curse around her. That’s the
real
hard part.”

“You’re even sure you don’t mind my mom coming with us on our honeymoon?”

“Are you kidding me? Free childcare in exchange for a plane ticket and the cost of a hotel room? I’ll gladly have my mother-in-law crash our sexcapade.”

I look out the window at the perfectly falling snow. “I am going to miss this weather.”

“It’s Minnesota, Delilah. I promise you there will be more snow when we get back from Hawaii.”

The oven timer beeps and the sound of the metal pan sliding across racks echoes out of the kitchen. I lean back on the sofa, breathing in the smell of my baby, the pie, and the crackling wood smoke. I look up at the tall, arched ceiling above me.

I’m safe. I’m warm. I’m happy.

I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

When my sex god of a husband brings me a slice of pie that he made himself?

I know for sure that this life has to be better than heaven ever will be.

Because this is our heaven. Nothing can top that.

STAY IN TOUCH

Sign up for my newsletter stay up to date on new releases.
Sign up here
.

Do you enjoy leaving reviews?
Sign up for the opportunity
to be a part of my advanced reader team. Receive an early copy of my new releases in exchange for an honest review!

Like my page on Facebook
to stay up-to-date on my new releases.

.

MORE STORIES BY VESPER VAUGHN

STEP WILDE: A STEPBROTHER ROMANCE

He’s the hottest movie star on the planet – and he wants me all for himself.

Available through Amazon for purchase or FREE through Kindle Unlimited

HITMAN’S HOOKUP: A BAD BOY ROMANCE

Assassins do it better.

Available through Amazon for purchase or FREE through Kindle Unlimited