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“No, you didn’t. It’s almost one in the afternoon. Get your soon-to-be-fat ass out of bed now!” She bounces harder now, and I’m jostled completely out of my much-needed sleep.

“Shut the hell up and stop that fucking jumping! It’s too early for your shit. It’s my birthday, and I want to sleep, so fuck off,” I yell from under the pillow I’ve pulled over my head to muffle the sound of her raised voice.

“Ashley, come on. Get up. I have the whole day planned out before dinner,” she whines, finally sitting still. I look up to see her batting her sad puppy dog eyes at me.

“Fine.” I admit defeat and drag my tired ass out of bed. “There had better be breakfast waiting for me, or so help me God, I’ll kill you.”

“You’re even more of a bitch in the morning now that your precious coffee has been banned.” She laughs as she flees from the room. She really is a total fucking brat sometimes.

Quinn hadn’t been kidding when she’d said that she had the day planned out. We start out at the spa where we have facials, massages, Mani’s and pedi’s. Then we go shopping for an outfit to wear to dinner. Quinn claims that the shopping trip is because most of my regular wardrobe is starting to get snug and I won’t spend any extra money right now on clothes I would be comfortable in. She swears she wants to treat me to a few new outfits, including one that I can wear out to dinner. I reluctantly agree as long as we keep it simple and stick to stretchy pants and some cotton tops—nothing fancy. I get choked up quite a few times during the day by how thoughtful she really can be. She doesn’t even push to go somewhere else when I suggest we go to the outlet mall in Elizabeth, even though I know she hates any sort of outlet.

After shopping, we head back to the condo to hang out for a little while before dinner. We plan to end the night out at a new posh restaurant, Paradox, which Quinn has been dying to try. She’d asked earlier in the week if I minded her inviting Alex to celebrate with us, which of course I didn’t. I have no problems with Alex. It’s not his fault his best friend is a complete douchebag. I do make Quinn promise me that they won’t leave me sitting all alone while they sneak off for a quickie in some closet or something. She laughs at me and thanks me for the suggestion. Bitch. At least one of us is getting laid.

Dinner goes surprisingly well. The food is great, but I don’t think the restaurant is anything special. Actually, the design of it kind of creeps me out. Everything is done in silver, black, and white, like some weird futuristic design.

There’s a little tension between Alex and me before he breaks the ice. “I need you to know that I don’t agree with what Tanner’s doing,” he says. “I’ve told him as much. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with him. I mean, I know he can be a dick but never with you. This shit really has me thrown for a loop.”

“It’s okay, Alex. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’m better off in the long run. But he’s your best friend. I understand your need to stand by him.” I don’t want Alex to feel torn. My situation with Tanner shouldn’t have any bearing on Alex’s non-relationship with Quinn or even his potential friendship with me—if that’s what he’s looking for.

“It’s hard to stand by him right now. I don’t agree with him. But thank you for understanding my shitty position. Don’t believe a word he’s said to you. You really are a special girl, Ash. Too good for his sorry ass.” He smiles, raising his glass for a toast. I raise my virgin daiquiri, and with the clinking of the glasses, any signs of awkwardness dissipate.

“Now that’s a perfect toast. Guess you’re good with more than just your cock and hands.” Quinn smirks at him with fire in her eyes.

“Now you know how good I am with my mouth,
Sugar
,” he jibes right back, throwing the stupid pet name she loves to use so much back at her.

“Guys, seriously, I just got the nausea under control. Do you need to make me want to puke again?” I say, causing all three of us to laugh uncontrollably.

It’s a perfect birthday dinner. We talk about my new job, the baby, and all the awesome things that Quinn has done for me today. It’s refreshing to see the interaction between Quinn and Alex—the secret glances they think they’re sneaking, the hand-holding, the innuendos. You can totally see that something deep is brewing there, but I don’t dare tell them that. It kind of makes me miss being a half of a whole.

“You’ll let me know if you need anything? I’ll do anything I can to help you out,” Alex says sincerely before we all part ways.

“I will. That means a lot to me. Thank you,” I tell him before pulling him into a hug that startles him, and we both laugh.

“Sorry I’m overly emotional these days. Thanks for the beautiful flowers too,” I say, holding up the bouquet of lilies he’s brought me. Then I step back to allow him and Quinn a moment.

Quinn’s kept me going nonstop today, and I’m exhausted by the time we get home. Forgoing a shower, I change into my sweats and climb into bed, where Quinn and I lie together, talking about my doctor’s appointment at the end of this week.

“Do you think that they’ll be able to tell you the sex of the baby?” Quinn asks while snuggling down under the covers trying to get warm. It’s so blistering cold outside that being out there for more than a second freezes you into a Popsicle.

“I doubt it. I’ll only be fourteen weeks and a few days. From what I’ve read, most doctors don’t like to tell you until at least sixteen weeks.” I’ve spent most of my spare time researching pregnancy and everything that relates to it. It’s crazy how much stuff I didn’t know about when it comes to being pregnant.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she says, burrowing into my side.

“Maybe,” I say before snuggling her back and closing my eyes, thinking about nothing but tiny little babies.

Friday morning rolls around a lot quicker than I thought that it would. I’ve been so excited about my doctor’s visit that I’d thought the week would drag. My shifts at Legends
and the stack of articles I needed to write helped me keep my mind otherwise occupied.

At the doctor’s office, Quinn and I are still trying to defrost from the freezing temperature outside when they call my name to head back to the exam room. Lacey, the same nurse as last time, informs me that I just need to give a urine sample. I don’t have to change into the gown this time. I just have to come back to the room after doing my business.

After peeing, I leave the sample on the counter, just like last time, and sit on the exam table to wait for Dr. Marcus.

“I think I’m more nervous this time than I was last time,” I tell Quinn, picking at the ends of my hair, looking for split ends. I do that a lot when I’m anxious.

“You had a lot going on in your mind last time, and nothing was really real yet. Now it’s real, and you have real fears. I’m sure its normal,” Quinn says, giving me a sincere smile. I’m so glad that she was able to come with me today. I’m sure everyone must think we’re a lesbian couple since Quinn is always the one holding my hand through these visits.

Dr. Marcus knocks on the door, alerting us to his presence, and strolls in with a smile on his face. “Good morning, Ms. Mitchell. How are you today?” He offers me a hand with his greeting.

“I’m doing well, thank you,” I tell him, shaking his hand.

“Good to hear. How’s the vomiting? Did the Zofran we prescribed last appointment help?” he asks, glancing over my chart.

“Yes, the extreme morning sickness let up about two weeks ago.” I’m so thankful that I’m not puking my brains out anymore.

“Good. Good. It usually does work itself out by the second trimester. So, today I want to do a quick scan just to double check how everything’s progressing. Before you get all worked up, no, I don’t think that there’s anything wrong, but I always like to double-check.” Man, he’s good. But I guess that after dealing with pregnant women every day, he must be able to sense a freak out coming a mile away.

“I just need you to roll or push down your pants to your pubic line and pull your shirt up to your bra line,” he says, pushing some buttons on the ultrasound machine he’s just wheeled over to the table from the corner of the room. He squirts some cold jelly around my belly button before pushing the wand down on my tummy and moving it around as he turns his attention to the monitor.

He hits a button on the keyboard, and suddenly, a loud whooshing sound reverberates throughout the room.

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat, right?” I ask even though I’m pretty sure it is. I just want to make sure. I heard it for a few seconds during the last ultrasound, and it’s almost impossible to confuse that beautiful sound with anything else. Everything except that amazing whooshing just fades out. It makes the fact that there really is a little person growing inside me more of a reality. The baby becomes a little more real every time I hear it.

“Yes, and it sounds great. Everything else looks great too. I don’t see anything abnormal,” he says, still moving the wand around as he checks things out. I can’t tear my eyes away from the screen. It’s hard to believe that little peanut is inside me—although she’s not really a peanut anymore. I can definitely make out the shape of a baby now.

“So, do you think that you might be interested in finding out the sex of the baby, Ashley?” Dr. Marcus asks.

I see Quinn bouncing in her chair and shaking her head up and down.

“Yes, but I thought it was still early to tell,” I reply.

“You’re at about fourteen and half weeks. We don’t normally look for the sex at this point, but I’m already here, and I can tell for sure what the sex is. So if you want to know, I’d be more than happy to share.” He smiles down at me.

“Yes, I would love to know,” I answer, my voice full of excitement.

He points to an area of the screen that looks as though it could be the baby’s butt. “This view is what we sometimes refer to as the potty shot, and that right there tells us that you’re having a bouncing baby boy.”

I gasp, and my eyes fill with tears as I stare at the image that is my son.

Chapter 3

Tanner

A few days after having dinner with Melissa, I called Davis, my agent, about my foundation idea. He must have jumped on it right away because it only took him a little over a week to get back to me with good news. While trying to start my own foundation to benefit underprivileged children could take months and even years to get off the ground, Davis has found something that he thinks is even better for me. The Tony Mathis Foundation has been looking for someone to take over as the public face of the organization since Tony passed earlier this year, and they think I’d be a great fit for them. The head of the foundation told Davis that, based on my recent activities in the community, the board would be more than happy to meet with me. The Tony Mathis Foundation is huge. It’s been around for decades and is basically a household name. It isn’t exactly what I’d been looking to do, but it’s a damn good alternative with little to no startup work. I told Davis I would take the weekend to think about it and get back to him.

I’m just checking his latest email on my phone as I stand on the sidelines of the party. It’s my teammate Malcolm’s daughter’s birthday, and the whole team and all their kids have turned out. I read Davis’ email reminding me that I don’t have all the time in the world to make a decision and he really thinks I should do this. They don’t have much time to waste, and they want to have a set man for the job by Monday. Apparently, with the holidays coming up, they need someone to sign now so they can get things rolling for the new year.

Just then, Alex comes over with a cold Heineken for me, “Here’s a beer, bro.”

“Thanks, dude.” I grab the beer while reaching into my pocket for my key ring, which has a bottle opener on it.

“What’s on your mind, Tag? You look lost in your thoughts.” He follows my line of vision over to the crowd of our teammates playing with the kids as they run wild through the indoor play facility. Pink and purple balloons float everywhere. There’s a blow up castle-shaped bouncy house, trampolines galore, and even a face painter who’s going around painting all the kids’ faces. Squeals of laughter echo all around.

“Nothing. Just thinking about the Mathis deal and how I can’t help but laugh watching our six-foot-four-inch, two-hundred-eighty-five-pound defensive tackle bouncing with a group of little princesses up and down on a giant trampoline. On a Friday night no less. It’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen,” I say, pointing to the group in front us.