Authors: Anna Cruise
THIRTY FOUR
WEST
“You reek.”
I kicked off my shoes. “I just got home. How the fuck would you know?”
Griffin grinned at me. “I could smell you coming up the stairs.”
I gave him the finger and dropped my keys on the table. I'd skipped out after practice without a shower, tossing my gym shorts and t-shirt on over my sweat-covered body and hauling ass out the door. Abby and I were going out for the first time in forever and all I wanted to do was go home and get cleaned up there.
“Practice good?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Fine,” I said absently. I was ready to be done for the season.
“You and Abby going out tonight?”
I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. I twisted off the cap and gulped half of it down in one swallow. “Yep.”
Griffin nodded from his spot on the couch. I was pretty sure he never moved from there most days. Well, unless he was tending bar or surfing. “Cool,” he said.
“You?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I dunno. Mario asked me to cover his shift tonight. I might.”
I finished the water and set the bottle on the counter. “Tana coming home any time soon?” It had been at least a week since she'd been in San Diego.
“Nope.”
“How's that going?”
Griffin grabbed the remote and aimed it at the television and the screen flickered to life. “I dunno.”
I turned one of the dining room chairs around and straddled it. “Spill.”
His eyes locked on the screen, an old episode of Beavis and Butthead. “She's staying in San Luis for the summer.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Her grades suck,” he said. “Needs to do summer classes if she wants to keep her scholarship.”
“Oh. Wow.” I hadn't heard any of this. Not surprising, considering everything going on in my and Abby's lives right then.
“Yeah.”
I leaned forward, resting my chin on the back of the chair. “You two pretty serious?”
Griffin glanced at me. “Well, we're not having babies or anything...”
I shot him a look. “Fuck off.”
A grin flashed across his face, then disappeared. “Nah,” he said. He fingered the remote, his fingers trailing over the buttons. “I don't know what we are, man.”
I let out a low whistle.
“What?” he asked.
“You're whipped.”
He shook his head, frowning. “Nope. Not at all.”
“Bull shit.” I laughed. “You're mopey over a girl. First time I've seen you like this since...” I looked at the ceiling, pretending to think about it. “Huh. Since never.”
He grabbed the pillow off the couch and fired it at me. I ducked and it hit the wall with a muffled thud. “Whatever, dude.”
I stared at my best friend for a moment, trying to figure out if he was really bummed about the Tana situation. Maybe he was just pissed his semi-regular lay was going to be gone all summer. He didn't see Tana often—usually only once or twice a month—but they spent most of their time together holed up in Griffin's room. I was pretty sure he was alright with that arrangement. I didn't ask questions and I didn't badger him about whether or not they were serious. They just...were.
But Griffin didn't mope. Not ever. And watching him sit on the couch, staring seemingly unseeing at the television, made me wonder just how serious he was about Abby's best friend.
“You got mail,” he said.
“What?”
He waved his hand. “On the table. Some letter.”
I turned so I was facing the table, saw the white business-sized envelope on the surface. I picked it up and ran my thumb along the backside. I pulled out the sheet of paper inside and unfolded it.
“What is it?” Griffin asked.
I scanned the piece of paper in my hands, my heart thumping harder as the words sank in. “A letter.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“A Cape Cod team wants me this summer.”
“What the hell is Cape Cod?”
I set the sheet of paper down so he wouldn't see my hand. Because it was shaking. “A wood bat league.”
“What the hell is that?”
I sighed. “A big deal. A really fucking big deal.”
THIRTY FIVE
ABBY
I smoothed the shirt I wore, sighed, and raised my hand to knock on the door.
West answered as soon as my knuckles hit the wood. “Hey.” His smile was sweet and soft and melted my heart.
“Hey.”
“What's wrong?” he asked, opening the door wider and pulling me inside the apartment.
I motioned to the outfit I was wearing. “This is what's wrong.”
He looked me up and down. “You look hot.”
I rolled my eyes. “It's a maternity outfit.”
He grabbed me, his arms encircling my waist. His mouth found my neck and he latched on, his lips moving across my skin, sucking and kissing. “It's black leggings that hug your ass and a purple shirt that shows off your tits.”
I closed my eyes, letting him continue his tender assault on my skin. “The waistband looks like it belongs to a whale.”
He pulled his mouth away and grinned. “A whale?”
I nodded and lifted up the hem of the purple tank top. “See?” I said, pointing out the massive elastic panel in the front.
“Yep,” he said. “I see.” His hand moved from my waist to my barely swollen stomach and he splayed his fingers across my skin. “I see our baby.”
My heart skipped a beat and I put my hand over his, holding it in place. “I'm gonna get fat.”
“No, you're not. You're growing a baby.”
“I've gained ten pounds,” I told him. “Pretty sure that's not all baby. Not at four months.”
“I don't care,” he said. “You're beautiful. I love you. No matter how much you weigh.”
I followed him into the apartment. The television was on and I looked to the couch, expecting to see Griffin, but it was empty. I peered down the hallway and saw the closed bathroom door, could just hear the sound of water.
“Grif's in the shower,” West said. “Hope you don't need to pee.”
My bathroom habits were a constant joke. My bladder had gone into overdrive, to the point where I couldn't go much longer than an hour without having to run to the bathroom. It was one of those things that had the potential to be embarrassing but West just laughed it off.
I smiled. “We should probably go,” I told him. “At least there'll be a couple of stalls to choose from at the restaurant.”
He grinned back. “Let me grab my sweatshirt.” He glanced at my outfit again. “You want me to grab you one? It might be cold down by the water.”
I pointed to my stomach. “Hello? Built-in heater right here.” I could hear him chuckling as he headed down the hallway.
I leaned up against the dining room table. There was a piece of paper, unfolded, and I glanced at the salutation. It was to West.
From a baseball league.
I couldn't take my eyes off it. I couldn't stop reading. I leaned closer, scanning the contents of the letter.
“Ready,” West said, a navy blue hoodie pulled over his t-shirt. He froze. “What are you doing?”
I picked up the letter and held it out to him. “Reading this.”
“Abby
—”
I cleared my throat. “Congratulations.” I tried to make my voice neutral but inside, I was fighting back tears.
“I'm not going.”
“What?”
He shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “I'm not going.”
“But it's a wood bat league,” I said. I knew what a wood bat league meant, how important it was. West had told me all about it at the beginning of the school year, when practices had really kicked into full gear for him. It was a summer league, one that every college level player dreamed of getting an invite to. All the Major League scouts trolled the wood bat games, looking for players. It was the chance West wanted, the chance he needed to step up another rung on the baseball ladder.
“I know,” he said.
“You've wanted this,” I said. I thrust the letter at him. “This was part of your dream. The big picture. One of the pieces to the puzzle.”
“I know.” He took a step toward me. “It was. But it isn't anymore.”
I stared at him. “What? How?”
“Baseball isn't my dream anymore, Abs.” He took another step, crossing the distance between us. His eyes locked with mine and he pulled me close. “You are.” He cupped my stomach with both of his hands. “And this is. Nothing else.”
“But
—”
He interrupted me. “No buts.” He kissed me, his lips barely brushing mine. “This is it. Right here. This is everything.”
THIRTY SIX
WEST
“What are we doing tomorrow?” Abby asked.
She was sprawled out on a towel in a blue polka dot bikini. We were just north of Law Street, parked on the sand, enjoying an afternoon at the beach. The sky was cloudless, the sun a bright beacon directly above us, a cool offshore breeze blowing in. A perfect summer day.
I shifted on to my stomach so I could look at her. “I don't know. What do you want to do?”
She shrugged.
“Fireworks?” It was 4
th
of July.
“Sure.”
“Barbecue?”
“That sounds good.”
“Tetanus shot?”
She blinked a couple of times. “What?”
I grinned and reached out my hand, my fingers finding her arm. I squeezed. “Just making sure you're listening.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “Sorry.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Everything.”
I squeezed her again. “Tell me.”
She lifted her hair off her shoulders, letting the breeze cool her skin before dropping it back down. “I don't know. My mom. Work. The baby.”
I let my gaze settle on her stomach. She was almost six months pregnant and I'd never seen her look sexier. She'd blossomed over the last couple of months, her skin tan and glowing, new ungodly curves popping up all over. And her stomach. I sighed. Perfectly round, perfectly smooth. I couldn't stop staring at it, couldn't stop touching it. A part of me was inside of her, growing, thriving, and it was the biggest turn-on imaginable.
“Tell me.”
She propped herself up a little better, shifting from her elbows to her hands. “Just thinking about everything.”
“Yeah, you already said that. I want specifics.”
“Work is insane.” Her face was tilted skyward, absorbing the sun. “I shouldn't even be here.”
“You're not slave labor,” I told her. “You deserve a day off.”
“I know. But it's Sunday. Open Houses and stuff. I should be working.”
I shook my head. “You've worked more hours in the last two months than you worked all last year.”
“That's not true.”
It might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Her mom had gone in for her surgery at the beginning of June and Abby had reverted back to all of the old roles she'd played when her mom had been battling cancer. Nursemaid, housekeeper and her dad's right-hand man at the office, all rolled into one.
“Still,” I said. My hand was still on her arm and I let it travel down her skin, my fingers gentle as I found her hand and entwined it with my own. “You know what I mean.”
“I just feel bad that my mom is working today and I'm not. She should be resting.”
“She wanted to go back to work.”
“She's only four weeks post-op.”
“And she said she's fine.” I squeezed her hand. “You gotta trust her. Just like they've trusted you. Trusted us.”
Trust was the only word I could use to describe her parents' reaction to our decision. I didn't sense approval but I didn't sense much in the way of disappointment anymore, either. Maybe from Abby's dad, but definitely not from her mom. Her mom had made it clear that she thought we'd made the right decision and even though I knew she probably wished we'd never gotten ourselves into the situation we were in, she trusted what we were doing.
Abby rummaged inside the canvas bag sitting next to her, pulling out her phone. She checked the time. “Maybe I should head in for a couple of hours. See if they need help.” She tapped at the screen and I knew what she was doing. Calling them.
I sat up and grabbed the phone out of her hands. She looked at me, eyebrows raised, mouth open.
“What the—?”
I tucked the phone underneath me. “No.”
“Give me the phone, West.”
I smiled at her. “Come get it.”
She leaned close and dug her hand under my thigh and I felt my body instantly respond. “West.”
I laid my hand over hers and guided it to my crotch. “Hmm? What?”
A reluctant smile formed on her lips. “Stop,” she said, her head swiveling back and forth, making sure no one was watching.
I almost laughed. I didn't give a shit what the people around us saw. “You're not going in. It's 4
th
of July weekend. No one is looking for houses.”
“
People are always looking for houses,” she said irritably. “Holidays don't stop them.”
“
Well, I'm stopping you.” I shifted so the phone was further underneath me. It poked at my ass but I didn't care. “I'm off work for three days and I'm taking full advantage.”
I'd gone back to work at the baseball academy shortly after classes at USD ended. Turned down the wood bat league and told Coach Klein about the baby and how I wasn't sure I'd be playing ball next year. He'd pointed out the scholarship issue—they wouldn't pay if I didn't play—and I'd told him I knew all that. And that I guessed I wouldn't be coming back to USD. Abby had freaked about me quitting school but I'd told her I would transfer to SDSU...after the baby was born.
She changed the subject. “You get a new batch of kids this week?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“And it's still okay?” She chewed her lip as she looked at me. “Being back at work?”
“
It's better than okay,” I told her.
And it was. I'd missed being there during the school year. I'd missed the guys I'd worked with but, more than that, I'd missed the kids. The eager looks on their faces when they first arrived for camp, their drive and determination. Sure, some of them goofed off and didn't give a shit about being there. But most of them reminded me an awful lot of myself at that age. And I wanted to give them the best start possible.
She nodded. “Okay. Good.” Her hand tickled my skin as she tucked it under my thigh, digging around for her phone.
I lifted myself off my towel and landed on top of her, bracing my hands on either side of her, my stomach barely brushing her belly. I used my knee to nudge her phone to the far corner of my towel, close to the sand.
“Get off me!”
I kissed her cheek, then her lips. “Not a chance.”
“West! People are watching.”
I rubbed her arm, then slid my hand down her side, resting it on her waist. Her skin felt smooth and soft and there was nothing I wanted to do more than bury myself inside of her. “Let them watch.”
She shoved at me. “Get. Off.”
I shifted on my side so I was half on her towel and half in the sand. “Stop looking for your phone. Stop thinking about work. Then I'll get off.”
She shoved at me again but there was a smile on her face. “Fine.”
“
And then later,” I said, my eyes roving over her body, lingering on her bikini top. “You can get me off. For real.”
Abby laughed and rolled her eyes. “Can't believe you even want me right now.” She nodded her head at her stomach. “Especially since we have to navigate around this.”
“Trust me,” I told her, locking my eyes on hers. “I want you. More than ever.”
She made a face. “Really? Because I feel like a cow.”
“You're not a cow,” I assured her.
She rolled her eyes. “What about the extra twenty pounds? That's very cow-like.”
“Not a cow.” I scooted back over to my towel, brushing the sand off my legs. “All woman. The woman who's having my kid. The woman I plan on spending the rest of my life with.”
She smiled again and I saw her eyes well up with tears. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”