Sixteen
It felt like my “last hurrah”.
Sure, there wasn’t really a ton to do in friggin’ Minnesota of all places, at least that couldn’t be done in Connecticut or New York. But somehow, even in below freezing weather, this trip felt perfect.
The Kings were playing in the SuperBowl… what more could I ask for?
At 29 weeks pregnant, I was rapidly approaching the point where I wouldn’t be able to travel anymore. Ramsey had been talking about getting on a plane to somewhere sunny, somewhere that would transport us back to the feeling we’d had in Bali, the day after the game, no matter the outcome.
It sounded amazing.
But nearly everywhere sunny had travel warnings for Zika virus for pregnant women. And though there were ways to protect myself, and lower the already low chances of something going wrong, I was so protective of this pregnancy that I just couldn’t settle into the idea. For his part, Ramsey gave me zero friction about it. There were other places to see, and other things to do.
Like winning the SuperBowl.
I’d promised the man a whole damned sheet of banana stickers, so he had plenty of motivation to go out on the field and do his part. While he was practicing and all of that, me, Soriyah, Clayton, and Naima, had been all over Minnesota. Ramsey – and Ashley, as part of the training team – had been there since the Monday before the game. The other four of us came a few days later.
Ashley had been able to join us every day, but Ramsey had only come once, opting to keep his head focused on the game. I didn’t feel slighted by that – for three years on air together, Ramsey and I had talked about these things, the difference in players that spent the week partying, and those that spent the week anchoring themselves on the field. I hadn’t even wondered which type of player Ramsey would be – I knew.
Having fun on his behalf had always been the plan, and we’d done it. Sight seeing, the Saint Paul Winter Carnival, all of that. Clayton didn’t, in the least, mind being the only guy in our group – he actually seemed to thrive, being surrounded by “baddies”, even though one of us was pregnant with his best friend’s child, and two of us were only interested in each other. That left the only person to give him any returned interest was Soriyah, who I expected was the real reason Clayton had been so eager to “escort” us to Minneapolis, and to stick around.
He’d been a little too giddy when, at dinner after Ramsey’s proposal, Soriyah had dropped the news that she was spending the next few months in the United States. She had a niece here, who’d been making waves in high school track, just with Soriyah’s long-distance advice. Now, the opportunity had come to take things further, and Soriyah wanted to be more hands on with her.
And Clayton wanted to be more hands on with Soriyah.
He’d never even met her before the proposal, but the few days we were here, he hadn’t left her side except to help me from a chair or into the car occasionally. Even now, in our box at SuperBowl, he was in her ear, flirting. I glanced over to where they were, and smiled to myself.
Clayton, with his smooth, dark chocolate skin and panty-dissolving grin was halfway out of his seat, leaning toward Soriyah. Even if that wasn’t my friend, I would think she was gorgeous. Cinnamon complexion, an enviable head of thick dark brown natural hair, and big, almond shaped green eyes – a constant source of conversation when I was around her family. At least one person always told the story of her opening her eyes for the first time as a baby, and a collective shout going up around the room, wondering where in the world those had come from.
But Clayton was enthralled, and Soriyah was eating it up. I damn near felt bad for the man. I know he thought probably thought he was charming the hell out of Ri, but I knew better.
It was happening the other way around.
That’s why I didn’t feel bad when I stood up, grabbing her hand to get her attention. “I need to use the ladies room. Come with me,” I said, and she shot a smile at Clayton that was apologetic, but turned mischievous as soon as she was facing me.
“Come on,” she beckoned, and we headed to the semi-private restroom – elegantly maintained, with three stalls. After she checked that they were empty, she locked the door. I took the middle stall, swinging the door closed as she checked her face in the mirror.
“I’m feeling a little bamboozled, Wilhelmina. Why did you not tell me about this Clayton Reed character? I’ve known for months that I was coming, but if I’d known about him, I maybe would have done a few more squats,” she complained in her melodic Caribbean accent, as if she weren’t known for her perfect ass.
She’d come to a meeting at WAWG with me just last week, and after running into Braxton Drake himself, had been asked about a daily morning fitness show. Sure, Soriyah was still a very notable name – she’d beasted the Olympics in 2016, while I was sitting behind a desk reporting on them – so the offer wasn’t solely based on her… assets. But we’d simply been walking down the hall, me with my pregnant waddle and sciatica, her in skinny jeans and high-heeled booties, when we’d heard the familiar “Aye!” of a man who saw something he liked.
Imagine our surprise to turn around and find ourselves facing two of the new network owners – Braxton, and his sister Nashira, who seemed exhausted with her brother’s antics.
“Because Clayton is… Clayton,” I called through the door, as I finished my task. “He’s not exactly the hey, so my man has this friend I think would be great for you” type.”
I opened the door to the stall to find Soriyah’s eyebrows up, and her perfectly turned up nose looking extra haughty. “And why not? If you think I’m not touching a champagne flute to that man’s dick to toast the Kings’ win tonight, you don’t know me at all.”
I laughed at her craziness as I washed my hands. “Oh no, I’ve been expecting to hear about that since the two of you sat next to each other on the plane. I’m actually shocked it hasn’t happened yet – he was all over you Friday night.”
Soriyah grinned. That was the one night Ramsey had come out with us, and we’d managed to figure out where the black people in Minneapolis hung out. The presence of half of the Kings’ starting roster had the crowd at the lounge excited – so excited that I was relieved at the well-secured VIP area where we stayed most of the night. Ramsey didn’t do any drinking – in solidarity with me, and out of respect for the shape he would need to be in on Sunday – but the rest of our little crew had no such hangups.
Song, after song, after song, even after Ramsey and his teammates left to turn in early, Clayton and Soriyah were up under each other. The DJ did a whole little reggaeton section, and I thought Clayton was going to lose his mind behind the way Soriyah whined on him, undoubtedly creating a situation in his pants. But shortly after that, she’d gotten away from him, mischief all over her face as she insisted it was too late for me to be out.
He didn’t see it coming yet, but there was no way she was going to leave him with his pride.
Soriyah picked up one of the thick disposable hand towels from the tray on the sink and handed it to me. “Just because I planned to screw him from the time I laid eyes on him does not mean he shouldn’t still work for it.”
“Very true,” I laughed. “So long as you remember to put a saddle on that horse.”
“Of course,” she readily agreed. “Wouldn’t want to be in your state six months from now, pregnant and engaged, because you know I won’t be able to get rid of him. A man like Clayton! Could you imagine?”
I knew her words were harmless – she was unquestionably happy for me, excited about the baby, loved Ramsey, all of that. But… her words played on an insecurity I’d been struggling with, ever since the proposal. Absently, I scratched at my hand, fingering the diamond that accented the rose gold band. Such a beautiful, perfect ring, that I loved, and was proud to wear… mostly. It was just that…
“Do you think I did this too fast?” I asked, my first time expressing it out loud to Ri. I hadn’t even said anything to my mother and she’d been all over me, based on the conversation we’d had at her house, warning me not to overthink the “too fast” thing. But, seriously. “In two months, it’ll be April again. What was supposed to be my one year anniversary, with Darius. And don’t get me wrong, I’m way past tripping on that. I’m not sad about it, I love my life right now. I just… of course people have been saying ugly things, it comes with the territory of being in the public eye. But it’s been said a lot that Ramsey only proposed because I was pregnant.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I scoffed. “Oh, I know that, because I know Ramsey. He wants me to be his wife, that’s without question, in my mind. And I want him to be my husband. With every part of me, I feel like he is my one, my destiny, but I can’t help wondering… if I weren’t pregnant, would I have said yes? Not even a year after this other thing ended, if I weren’t carrying a Bishop in my belly, would I have said yes… or would I have pepper sprayed his ass, because this is crazy.”
“Why does it matter?” Soriyah said, waving me off. “Wait. Back up. I don’t mean to sound as if I think your concern isn’t valid, or that you shouldn’t spend time in self-examination, thinking through the course of your action, but… it doesn’t matter. I know you’re just talking to me, getting it out of your head. But that’s exactly where this should stay – out. These hypothetical scenarios aren’t good for much of anything outside of causing unnecessary stress. Are you about to give the ring back, call the engagement off?”
“What?” I took a step back, protectively covering my ring. “Hell no!”
“Then who gives a shit what you would’ve said if you weren’t pregnant? You were very pregnant. And you said yes. Because that man out there running people over in the name of this silly violent sport is the love of your life. So what is your purpose, girl?”
“My purpose is making sure that I’m doing this for the right reasons. I was so upset about how it seemed like life just wouldn’t stop kicking me in the ass. Publicly cheated on and humiliated, conned out of my job, privacy violated, unexpected pregnancy. But then my mother helped me shift my perspective. I accepted everything, focused on the positive that came from it all… I’m well on my way to the career I wanted, I’m finally going to have a baby, and I am all the way in love. And I just wonder if so eagerly accepting such a fast proposal – just seven months after we became more than friends – is my way of trying… hurry up and get to where I thought I’d be. Career. Husband. Baby.”
Soriyah’s eyes narrowed, and then she chuckled. “O-kay. Let me see if I have this right. This man proposed to you – asked you to be his wife – and you are wondering if you are taking advantage by saying yes.”
I planted my hands against my lower back, trying to give a little support, since I’d put it through paces this week, with all the running around we’d done. “Yes.”
“And this sounds reasonable, to your ears? This has to be another of these American things, having so few real problems that you have to invent some, so you are not bored. My God, Wil. The Jamaicans, they have this saying that American tourists love to spout in the Bahamas, for some reason. It’s irie, mon. It’s all good. Relax.”
“You know you didn’t have to go in on me like that just now, right?”
“I think maybe I did. Are you good now?”
I sucked my teeth. “Aside from feeling stupid now, yeah I guess.”
“Don’t be mad at me Willy,” she sang, looping her arm through mine as we left the bathroom for our private box. “It’s just, you’re mostly back to Little Miss Sunshine, and I can’t have you slipping back. Embrace these good things happening for you.”
We must have lost track of time in the bathroom, because we came back to the box just in time to see the Kings down by four, with only enough time left in the game for a single play. When we stepped out, they were ahead, which a good amount of time left in the game. Dread rocked my stomach as I watched them line up, trying to figure out the impossible – what they were about to do.
This time last year, the Kings were under similar conditions, and they had walked away from the field defeated. My eyes went over to Cole, who was up on her feet with the other execs, hands clutched in front of her chest. Last season, Jordan hadn’t walked off the field at all.
My attention returned to the game as the players broke away, into an “I” formation. As Jordan moved into position at Trent’s direction, my heart dropped.
No. No!
They were at the goddamn one-yard line, and Ramsey had been a beast on the field all day! Why the hell would they risk a pass? I watched, helpless, as the red-clad Kansas City players descended on Jordan, already having read the scene, and ready to disrupt the play attempt that would cost them the “champion” name.
A sudden, collective gasp went up around the room, and I realized my mistake as my eyes scanned the field. I’d been so busy watching Jordan – by design – that I hadn’t noticed the ball getting handed off to Ramsey.
But I absolutely noticed as first one foot, then the other stepped into the endzone, with the ball tucked securely under his arm. Me, the rest of the box, and what seemed like the whole stadium went up at the same time. It was so loud that I could barely hear myself screaming about the fact that Ramsey – my Ramsey – had been the one to make the game-winning play.
I couldn’t even see him anymore – he was buried in the middle of a crush of his teammates, and the field was filling up with people, fast. Half our box was gone, barely thirty seconds after the game was over, wanting to make it to the field for congratulations. When I glanced around and didn’t see Cole, I assumed she was already on her way down there. Even the baby excited apparently, making me flinch as it pushed down into my pelvis, creating a lingering pressure that made me feel a little sick.
But that was okay.
We’d won.
He’d won.
“Let’s meet him in the locker room,” Naima urged, hooking an arm around my waist. I didn’t even know I was crying until she wiped my face.
Happy tears.
We were all giddy though, shaking hands and fist bumping and hugging like we had been the ones on the field. Ashley was down with the team, helping treat the in-game injuries, so it was just me, Soriyah, Clayton, and Naima. Soriyah and Clayton led the way, with me and Naima behind them. We’d just gotten past the doorway to the box when a sudden wave of dizziness hit me, followed shortly by a feeling like my stomach was turning inside out.
I cringed, reflexively cupping my belly, and Naima’s arm tightened around me.
“Hey,” she said, concerned. “You good?”
I nodded, even though I was honestly feeling fuzzy. “Yeah. I think… maybe I just got a little too excited. And it was so loud, all the noise. I’m okay.”
“No, I think we should sit down for a minute,” Clayton said, having stopped and turned around when he noticed what was happening. “Let you get your bearings.”
“I’m good,” I insisted, shaking my head. “My man just won the damn Super Bowl – I need too see—ahhhh,” I hissed, involuntarily bending at the waist as something like a cramp ripped through my pelvis. I reached in front me, trying to find support, and Clayton and Soriyah rushed to give it, one on each side, helping a struggling Naima to keep me upright.
“What is it?” Naima’s voice was pleading in my ear as I closed my eyes. “Tell us what’s going on.”
My eyelids felt heavy, tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth as I struggled through the steady, excruciating discomfort to explain.
“P-pain,” I wheezed, digging my fingers into Clayton’s arm. “Like cramps.”
“Shit,” Soriyah cursed. “Wil. Wil. Look at me. Open your eyes, and look at me. Listen,” she said, when I finally did.
“You cannot have this baby right now.”
“Ramsey Bishop,” the reporter started, yelling over the sounds of screaming fans. There was blue and gold confetti covering everything, stuck to my face, stuck to her face, but I wasn’t bothered. Nothing could bother me right now. “The whole country wants to know – exactly how amazing do you feel right now?”
I laughed at the question. “I… honestly can’t even put it into words. Can’t begin to describe it.”
“Totally understandable. This was a tough game for both teams tonight, with no major leads for either side of the field. It seemed as every single point out there was a battle this time, but your stats prove that you more than carried your weight. Twenty-three carries for 117 yards before that last, game-winning play. How did you pull this off?”
I shook my head. “I can’t possibly take that credit, Kendra. Trent took that hit in the third quarter, and still came back to the field ready to put this thing to bed. Jordan lived up to that “The Flash” nickname with ever play. This whole team, honestly – we came out here to make our fans, family, and friends proud today, and we delivered on that. These guys embraced me as a last-minute addition to their team, making me feel welcome, and I’m just glad I was able to play in a way that contributes to the Connecticut Kings name in a positive way.”
“Is that a reference to some of the negative talk around your preseason performance?”
“It is.”
Kendra Fulton, who’d been my colleague for years as a journalist, smiled. “This was quite a way to put a muzzle on your naysayers, some of whom thought you should have stuck to talking about football rather than playing it. In an exclusive interview with Wil Cunningham, you spoke about feeling that you’d lost your hunger for the game after the unfortunate passing of your lovely mother. Many felt that you should have remained retired if you couldn’t find the passion to play at your pre-retirement levels, but you’ve obviously regained your mojo. Where does it come from?”
“My fiancé. My child. My mother’s memory. This team. Pre-season was a long six months ago, Kendra. A lot has changed.”
“Obviously,” she grinned. “Thanks for talking with me Ramsey, and again, congratulations! I’m sure your friends and family are waiting to celebrate with you.”
I gave Kendra a nod, then headed through the crush of people shouting, dancing, and whatever else. Anybody who tried to stop and talk to me got a hand toss or a nod – I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was trying to get to my lady.
There was no way she was going out to the field amongst all those people, especially after she’d been complaining about a backache since that morning. If I knew Wil, she and the rest of the crew were waiting in or near the locker rooms, so that was where I headed. Or was headed, until I heard my name and one of the physical therapists – and Naima’s girlfriend – Ashley came rushing up to me, out of breath.
“There you are!” she said, grabbing me by the arm to pull me in the opposite direction, but I planted my feet.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked, tugging her in front of me so I could see her face. “Where are you taking me.”
She glanced around first, plastering a smile on her face as a group of my teammates passed us, slapping me on the back. Then, she leaned in, to quietly tell me, “Naima was blowing up my phone, frantic. They had to take Wil to the hospital.”
“For what?” I growled, suddenly understanding her urgency. And from the look on her face – like she barely wanted to tell me – I knew it had to be serious.
“They think she’s in premature labor, but this was a few minutes ago, and they were pulling up to the hospital then. Maybe they know more now.”
My eyes bugged out. “A few minutes ago?! How long is a few minutes? Why didn’t somebody tell me as soon as it happened!?”
“I’m telling you now! Whatever happened, it was right after the game, and I’ve been trying to get to you, through all those people on the field, and then I get there, and you’re gone.”
“Right,” I nodded, then swiped a hand over my head. “Sorry for snapping at you—”
“You’re good, I get it,” she assured me, then grabbed my arm again. “Now, come on. Your security is waiting to get you to the hospital.”
My heart was racing as I rushed through the doors of Hennepin County Medical Center, not caring even a little about the stares I was getting in my muddy, grass-stained uniform. A call to Clayton from the car had confirmed a fear I didn’t even know I had – premature labor.
Wil was only 29 weeks pregnant.
But this hospital could handle it, I was assured, as soon I shoved open the doors to the birth center. I was stopped outside of Wil’s room by a nurse – a tiny woman I really wanted to shove out of the way for blocking my access to the only person I cared to see. At Clayton and Soriyah’s insistence, I chilled, comforting myself with the fact that at least Naima was in there with her while… whatever was happening, happened. At least she wasn’t alone.
After several restless minutes, I took myself into a corner for a quiet moment of prayer, supplementing the pleading I’d already done in the car. Dre brought up a bag for me, and I gave in to the pressure to use an empty room to shower and change into clean clothes.
The door to Wil’s room opened right as I was stepping back into the waiting room.
“Is Ramsey here?” the doctor asked, holding the door open. I practically sprinted up to her, and she smiled. “Come on in.”
Naima stepped out as I came in, and I tried to take heart in the fact that the situation didn’t seem to be an emergency anymore. But Wil… she looked so helpless laying there, with an oxygen mask clipped to her face and IVs connected to her arm.
“So we had a little scare, didn’t we?” Dr. Page according to the pin on her lapel, asked. “To update you, Ramsey, Ms. Cunningham went into spontaneous premature labor today, but because we need your little one to cook for at least a few more weeks, we intervened to stop it. The drug we’re using is actually an anti-hypertensive, but what it does for pregnant women is keep your uterus from contracting, which is what we have here. Your cervix has opened a little, but not enough that I’m worried about you. As soon as you get home though, I want you to go see your regular doctor.”
My shoulders sank in relief. “So she’s going home, still pregnant?”
“Yes,” Dr. Page smiled. “We’ll keep you here for today,” she said, touching Wil’s leg, “But I’m confident that we’ve gotten you on a strong enough pause to get home. And we ran tests that look for a specific protein in your vaginal secretions that would clue us in or whether or not this baby was coming, an FFN test. Your results were negative, so… you can breathe. And actually,” she glanced at monitors – one tracking Wil’s vital signs, the other tracking the baby’s – “you really can breathe. You and baby are stable enough that you can take that oxygen mask off now.”
Wil did so immediately, unceremoniously tossing the thing away from her. “Do you know why this happened? It’s because I’ve been doing too much this week, isn’t it? Flying out here, and shopping, and festivals, and the club, and… Ramsey, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, seemingly out of nowhere, covering her face with her hands.
My first move was to grab her hand as I stepped closer, gently pulling her upper half toward me so I could wrap my arms around her. “Wil, come on. You know I’m not blaming you for this, right?”
“Good,” Dr. Page said, as she grabbed Wil’s other hand. “Because none of that sounds like any sort of abnormal activity. Contrary to popular belief, pregnant women don’t necessarily have to “take it easy” just because they’re pregnant. Some of my patients hike, and run marathons, all sorts of things. You did not go into premature labor because you were having fun.”
“Then why?” Wil sniffled, trying to calm herself down.
“You aren’t going to like this answer, but we may honestly never know. We’re still waiting on test results, but it could be something as simple as a urinary tract infection that wasn’t even causing symptoms, or it could be a cervical flaw, an irritable uterus. Or it could have just happened, because the human body is complex, and sometimes baffling. We’ll get you an answer to that if we can, but the important thing to know is that you, and your baby, are both healthy.”
I pushed out a sigh. “That’s what I needed to hear.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” Wil asked, squeezing my fingers. “The drugs, to stop the labor. What if ten minutes from now I’m having contractions again?”
“If that happens, we’ll try something else. If that doesn’t work… we’ll attempt to slow the labor long enough to administer corticosteroids to help your baby’s lungs develop as much as we can, and then we will do the safest possible delivery. This hospital has a level four NICU, and some amazing doctors and nurses. You and your baby will be in excellent hands.”
After a few more questions, the doctor left, and it was just me and Wil in the room. I started to speak, but then the door opened again, and the nurse that had kept me from coming in before eased in.
“I was just coming to see if you two needed anything? Pillows, blankets, anything to make you more comfortable?”
I looked to Wil, who shook her head, and then turned back to the nurse. “No, not right now, but thank you.”
“Hungry or anything?” the nurse persisted. “Mommy can only have ice chips for now, but we were all around the nurse’s station wondering if… the Super Bowl champion needed anything?”
I was smiling before I could help it, and Wil rolled her eyes as I laughed. “No, but thank you, seriously.”
“You sure? Not even just the hospital food, one of us can run up the street and grab you something. There are three of us who are huge Kings fans. That touchdown?” she stepped forward with her fist extended, and I returned the gesture, bumping it with mine. “You let us know if you all need anything,” she said, patting my shoulder as she bustled out, obviously giddy.
I was glad she hadn’t made that encounter a single second longer, because Wil’s expression was… displeased. I scooted the chair I’d dropped into even closer, and tried to engage her.
“Hey… you know JJ told me the nurses were like that with him last year, down in Texas. Remember, he went to the hospital after the Super Bowl too.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, but at least that was for his own injury, after they lost. He probably wanted to be lowkey. His team wasn’t off celebrating without him because his pregnant fiancé landed herself in the hospital. Hell – he wasn’t even saddled with a fiancé at all.”
“But he is now,” I told her, grinning. “You must not have been paying attention to the TV.”
The one in her room was on now, with the sound off, replaying the video footage of Jordan proposing to Cole on the field after the game, something I hadn’t even realized was happening at the time. Dre had told me about it in the car on the way, attempting to give me a distraction. I was doing the same thing with the information now, and was glad when the distress on Wil’s face gave way to a smile.
“No, I didn’t realize,” she murmured. “I was… a little busy.”
I nodded. “Yeah. But, just so we’re clear, there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. I can party any time. The Kings are the official champions, until next year. There will be plenty of time for celebration.”
“Yeah, but you should’ve been able to have this time,” she said, laying back on her pillows. “You’ve worked hard for this.”
“I’ve worked hard for this,” I corrected her, laying a hand on her belly. “There is nothing in this world more important to me than the knowledge that two of you are okay.”
She sighed. “Yeah, and look at what I do, running around this city like I’m not six months pregnant.”
“Stop it. She just said this didn’t happen because you did something wrong.”
“And what the fuck do they know?!” she snapped. “They always spout that bullshit, we don’t know, sometimes things just happen. I lose two babies, they can’t give me a goddamn answer, can’t get pregnant, can’t get an answer for that either. Why the hell should I believe them now?”
“Because God doesn’t break promises, Wil,” I told her, simply. “You remember that day I felt the baby move, you told me that it was a manifestation of my mother’s dreams for me. Her and God, working in tandem. You remember that?”
She grudgingly nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay then. I know you don’t think that was only for me? Like there wasn’t a blessing for you in the equation. That your pain was invisible or something. He sees you. Maybe neither of us prays like we should, or attends service like we should, but I promise you that doesn’t mean we’re exempt from what he has for us. Those things you said to me that day… you believe that?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Then it’s not about believing them. It’s about believing him. If he said that you and this child are my destiny, nothing is taking that away. Okay?”
Wil sniffled again, and I reached up to wipe tears from her cheeks as she nodded. “Okay.”
“You good now?”
“No,” she shook her head, but managed to laugh. “I will be though. I want to talk about you. You made the play that won the SuperBowl. And put me into labor, according to Ri.”
“Ah, damn,” I laughed. “That’s what we’re doing?”
She nodded. “That’s what they are doing. Her and Clayton cracked jokes and flirted the whole ride to the hospital. Their antics were actually a nice distraction.”
“Do I need to get them back in here?”
“No,” she murmured. “I’m tired, but maybe later. I know you’re tired too, but can you just sit with me, a little longer?”
Her eyes were already closing, probably a combination of exhaustion from the day, and whatever was churning through those IVs. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“You didn’t even have to ask.”
I must’ve been as tired as she was, because I dozed off, waking up maybe an hour later to a lot of noise in the hall, a loud “shhhhh!!!” and then a disproportionately soft knock at the door. Frowning, I got up to open it, only to end up immediately yanked out. I balled my fists up as I snatched away, ready to throw hands.
But then I realized I was surrounded by my teammates.
“Get in here nigga!” somebody said, and somebody else put a hat on my head – probably the same one the rest of them were wearing, declaring us the latest NFL champions. Eli Richardson himself held out the heavy trophy to me, urging me to take it onto my hands as cell phones went up around me.
“The nurses are fans, but they told us to make it quick,” Eli laughed, as I clutched the trophy to my chest. “You did the right thing, coming to see about your family, but you earned this moment, son. We wanted to make sure you got it.”
I burst out laughing at some wise ass started blasting audio of the screaming crowd from his phone, and somebody tossed up a handful of confetti. In no time, the nurses were all over us – it was still a maternity ward – kicking people out.
I tucked the trophy under one arm, shifting so that I could shake Eli’s hand. What I’d told Wil was the truth – there was nothing more important than making sure she and the baby were okay, but I realized now… I’d needed this moment.
“Thank you for believing in me,” I told him, nodding.
“Thank you for not letting this team down.”
“This is the day. This is the day. This is day,” I sang in front of the mirror, doing a very, very gentle two-step to music that only existed in my head. Ramsey laughed as he slid his feet into his shoes, then stood to approach me.
“Damn, baby. You don’t seem excited at all,” he teased, kissing the side of my neck before he continued to the dresser, where his tie was.
I giggled. “How could I not be?! We’re gonna find out if we’re having a boy or girl today, which makes closing on the house next week that much more exciting!”
“Why?”
“Because! Then, I can spend these last 5 weeks before my due date decorating the nursery. I can’t wait to start picking things out.”
Ramsey frowned. “Wait… I thought you had everything all picked out? Yellow, gray, and turquoise, gender neutral. No pink princess clothes for a baby girl, no big trucks for a baby boy, fighting gender norms and all that?”
I waved him off. “Oh screw that. After all the stress I’ve been through with this little gummy bear, we’re wearing all the frills, all the dinosaurs, all until he or she is old enough to say, “pink is really not my color”, okay?”
He threw his head back and laughed as he finished with his tie, a gorgeous silk paisley one I’d bought him, and had been thrilled he actually liked. It was a blend of light neutrals, tan and gray and white, and I’d chosen a dress for today – baby shower day – that vaguely matched. We were a few days out from spring, but the gauzy watercolor print, in gray and white, was perfect for today. Once we found out which gender, I’d get a sash around my waist in the color that matched the décor Soriyah and Naima had come up with – either teal or coral.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” he told me, stopping to watch me put the last touches on my hair. “Not going to lie – I’ve been remembering how adorable Alexis was as a baby, when Chloe would put all those big ass flower headbands and stuff on her, and sweating a little bit.”
I stopped, and turned to look at him. “Sweating? For what?”
“Thinking about how ugly our fight was going to be when I came home with a bin full of hairbows if this baby is a girl. You were gonna let my baby be fashionable, goddamnit.”
A snort of laughter came out of me before I could help it, and the next thing I knew, I was laughing so hard I was crying – because Ramsey was serious as hell, even though he was laughing too.
Eventually, he took me in his arms, and I leaned on him for support, glad to take some of the pressure off my aching feet. I’d been dealing with low back pain for the last two days as well, and after standing for so long to get ready, it felt good to brace against him.
“Mmmm,” I groaned, as low pain started in my belly.
“You okay?” he asked, and I nodded.
“Yeah. Probably just Braxton-Hicks again,” I said, rolling my eyes as I referred to the false labor contractions that had sent us rushing to the hospital again just last week.
We’d been three times since getting back from Minneapolis. Once, I’d had to have my labor stopped again, but the other two times were true false alarms. Based on how I was feeling, this was another of those false alarms.
If it wasn’t, Soriyah was going to kill me. She’d put a ton of effort into this shower, and according to her words before she’d left this morning after having breakfast with us, it was going to be amazing.
“We can sit down for a minute,” Ramsey offered. “Nobody’s going to be mad if we’re a little late.”
I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Actually, yeah. Maybe just for a minute.”
We’d only take a couple of steps before I stopped, frozen in place.
“What’s wrong?” Ramsey asked, holding on to my arms. “Is it another cramp?”
I shook my head. “No,” I whined as my face grew hot with embarrassment. “I… I think I just… I peed on myself.”
“What?!” Ramsey took a half step back, looking me over. “I don’t see any—”
“Not like a lot,” I hissed. “But I definitely just soaked my panties, ugh. I didn’t even feel like I needed to pee.”
But, on the other hand, since the baby had decided its favorite place was resting low on my pelvis, head on my bladder, feet in my back, it wasn’t as if I had a great handle on what I was feeling down there anyway.
I took another step, toward the bathroom this time, to wash up and change, but I felt the same thing as before – a subtle gush of liquid.
Shit.
I squeezed my thighs together as I pulled away from Ramsey, awkwardly attempting to “rush” to the bathroom that way. But every time I moved, there was more and more, and I realized I was really about to find out if this man loved me today.
If he could take literally watching me piss myself, he could take anything.
“Wil!” he called out.
“I know, it’s disgusting. I can’t help it!” I cried.
But when I looked back at him, it wasn’t disgust on his face – it was confusion, and concern. I followed his line of sight to the floor, where I realized why. It wasn’t really visible on the hardwood in the bedroom, but against the marble of the bathroom, you could tell.
I wasn’t having an incontinence issue. Whatever was currently dripping down my legs was… pink. But that meant…
“Shit.”
“Shit?” Ramsey asked. “Why shit? Talk to me, what’s happening?!”
“Shit, because that is amniotic fluid. My water, Ramsey. It’s broken.”
He lifted his hands to head, eyes wide. “Oh. Shit. This… is not how it happens in movies.”
“No shit, Ramsey. We gotta—”
“Yes! Yeah, right! I’ll grab your bag, and we’ll go, and call Dr. Cho on the way. You can text everybody else on the way.”
“Okay.”
He nodded. “Okay. I’ll grab the bag and stuff.”
He darted out of the room, and was gone for one, then two, then five minutes, as I grabbed a few towels, tucking one between my legs before I gingerly moved to throw the others on the floor, to soak up my “accident”.
Finally, he came rushing back in the room, out of breath.
“What took you so long?” I asked, and he shook his head before letting out a dry laugh.
“Well,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist, “… I was on the way to the hospital, and then I realized… you probably need the pregnant woman, fool.”
I burst out laughing, cupping a hand over my mouth to try to make myself stop when the action sent a fresh gush of water rushing out. My laughter was easily killed ten seconds later, when a pain that made every other pain I’d ever felt seem… mild.
“Holy shit, when did you get this strong?!” Ramsey asked as I dug my fingers into his arm, trying to offset the pain. It lasted for what seemed like almost a minute before it let up, and I was finally able to breathe.
“Ramsey… this is it,” I wheezed. “For real this time.”
He grinned. “We’re about to have a baby?”
“Yeah. We’re about to have a baby.”
“Thank you.”
I looked up from the baby attached to my breast – asleep, but I didn’t have the heart to pull away – to meet Ramsey’s gaze. He was as shirtless as I was, having passed the baby to me after their “skin to skin” moment.
The NICU nurses had encouraged that.
Ramsey had actually been the one to do the feeding – my milk hadn’t come in yet, and neither had baby’s mouth control, to breastfeed properly. But the nurses had still encouraged us to try, just to get both of us used to it, so that’s what I’d been doing after every feeding, since yesterday.
We had time, though. Even though it was a late preterm birth, it was still preterm. They said maybe a two week stay, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be quite that long.
“For what?” I asked Ramsey, biting my lip to keep from grinning at the obvious adoration in his eyes.
He chuckled a little, like the answer was obvious, then reached forward, peeling back the blanket a little bit to peek inside. Then, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “For my son, Champ. That’s what.”
I gave up on trying to hold it – I openly smiled, scooting a little so that he could sit beside me on the tiny loveseat. “You’re welcome, but… no. Thank you.”
“For what?”
RJ finally pulled back on his own, perfect little lips moving feverishly for a second before he slipped back into sleep. “For being a man I could proudly name him after.”
We had other names picked out. Names that were so obviously wrong now that I couldn’t even bring them to mind. As soon as I laid eyes on his little face, it was obvious that he was supposed to be named after his father.
Once we arrived at the hospital, things went fast. Crazy fast. Less than two hours after I got to the hospital, I was pushing, no time to administer an epidural, with my water already broken, and cervix dilating so fast.
Afterwards, I sobbed over the fact that RJ had to be rushed off to the NICU to get a full exam, to make sure he was okay. I’d gotten to hold his little wet, screaming self for maybe a minute before they whisked him away. With tears in his eyes, Ramsey had stood over the bed and met my gaze as he grabbed my hands.
“I didn’t think I could love you more, and then you did this. Like a Champ.”
After that, I was mostly okay.
And now, I was all the way okay. Better than that, in fact. I shifted my position so that I was leaning into Ramsey, and he wrapped his arms around both of us.
Nothing could top this.
When I’d been given my April due date, a part of me felt like it was my chance to create a new memory for that month, so I wouldn’t find myself wallowing in the shadow of what was supposed to be my wedding date. Now, I realized how little that mattered when I had everything I wanted. Maybe the day would pass without me noticing it at all, and… maybe I would feel a little down. But ultimately, everything about my life was better than it would have been if those plans had gone forth.
I’d never been happier for an interception.
I closed my eyes, relaxing into the comfort of Ramsey’s arms. I had to relish it while I could, because the nurses would be coming in soon to check on RJ, and make sure he was maintaining his temperature and vitals, which would keep him out of the NICU. But for now, this was perfect. Even with everything thrown my way over the last year… I felt like I’d won.
I tilted my head back at Ramsey and grinned, laughing when he smiled back.
“What?” he asked, and my smile grew a little wider.
“Touchdown.”
Christina C. Jones is a modern romance novelist who has penned more than 25 books. She has earned a reputation as a storyteller who seamlessly weaves the complexities of modern life into captivating tales of black romance.
Prior to her work as a full-time writer, Christina successfully ran Visual Luxe, a digital creative design studio. Coupling a burning passion for writing and the drive to hone her craft, Christina made the transition to writing full-time in 2014.
Christina has attracted a community of enthusiastic readers across the globe who continue to read and share her sweet, sexy, and sometimes scandalous stories.
Most recently, two of Christina’s book series have been optioned for film and television projects and are currently in development.
Other titles by Christina Jones
Friends & Lovers:
Strictly Professional:
Serendipitous Love:
Trouble:
If You Can (Romantic Suspense):
Inevitable Love:
The Wright Brothers:
– Jason & Reese
– Joseph & Devyn
– Justin & Toni
Connecticut Kings:
CK #1
CK #2