“I have to get going. Promise you’ll call me after the ultrasound this afternoon?”

I’d made this promise no less than five times since he woke me up. “Promise. Good luck.”

“With this kind of skill, I don’t need luck. The other team does.”

“Your modesty overwhelms me.”

He winked and said goodbye. I’d created a monster. Gage had become obsessed with FaceTime, and he thought nothing of using it at six in the morning or eleven at night. There was never any warning, and more often than not, he caught me still in bed—his bed. I quit trying to hide it and just gave in to his incessant bragging. I had no idea how much he’d paid for this mattress; I just knew it was worth every cent—it was like sleeping on a cloud. A king-sized cloud. He was proud of himself for winning the zombie apocalypse, and while he believed I was camping out in his room for the superior mattress and enormous television—which was partially true—I also spent my nights in here because I felt closer to him. The sheets smelled like Gage, his pictures were on the dresser, and his clothes were more comfortable than my own.

Virtually nothing I owned fit, and without a job, I couldn’t buy maternity clothes. After the grocery store incident, I quit putting in applications. Right now, I was still able to use a rubber band to hold my jeans together—except, that wouldn’t work much longer. It didn’t really matter since I no longer left the house out of fear someone would recognize me. My name would come out eventually, and I dreaded the shitstorm it would cause. Gage acted like it wasn’t a big deal; however, he hadn’t really thought it through. He might not care what the media thought, but that didn’t mean his teammates or Coby and his wife would be as forgiving. And like it or not, Gage would be tied to me for life with this child.

Still lying in bed, I stared down the length of my body and smoothed the shirt around my ever-growing belly. A couple weeks ago, the lemon was barely noticeable—now my lemon was the size of an avocado, and she took up far more space. I glanced at the clock, realizing I needed to get moving. I had to get something to eat, shower, and get dressed. At the speed I moved these days, that could take hours. I dreaded the time when I’d actually have an enormous belly and wouldn’t be able to get up from a chair on my own. Gage hadn’t found it the least bit funny when I joked about him coming home from a road trip and finding I’d gotten stuck and couldn’t get up.

He’d been careful about what he said and how he said it, yet there was no denying how much he struggled with everything he thought he missed. It was the reason I didn’t complain about the FaceTime calls—whenever they came—because it gave him the sense of actually being with me when he was on the road. And in truth, it did the same for me. No girl could deny that getting phone calls from Gage Nix was flattering, regardless of the time of day or the lack of makeup. He didn’t care what I looked like, and I was grateful he couldn’t smell my morning breath through the screen.

It had gotten rather comical. He’d call me when he ate breakfast or lunch with guys from the team. Initially, it was uncomfortable and awkward, though ten minutes into the first call, they just started talking to me like I was sitting there with them. He walked me around stadiums to see where he played, showed me locker rooms, and took me out to dinner. It brought a whole new meaning to online dating—not that we were dating. We weren’t. He’d just found a way to ease my loneliness and his guilt.

By the time I finally got around to putting on pants, I was running late. There was no one else on the planet who could take as long as I had to do nothing. Lord help Gage once the baby came and I was responsible for getting two people ready—I’d have to start the day before.

My phone vibrated when I got in the car, and since no one else sent me texts, I knew exactly who it was. I wondered how Gage managed to sneak a phone into the game considering his get-away-with-murder charm didn’t work too well on other men—aside from Coby.

I tried to type out a message while I put the keys in the ignition and buckled my seatbelt. Multitasking was a skill I’d lost when I gained pregnancy brain.

I rolled my eyes when I realized what he was talking about. I couldn’t text and drive—or walk and chew gum for that matter.

I tossed the cell into the seat next to me and drove to the tiny practice Gage had found. Gage Nix picking my OBGYN was a tad terrifying until I realized how much privacy I got out of it. If and when he was with me, he always drew a crowd anywhere we went. Dr. Jamison was an older man who didn’t have an inkling who Gage was, people kept to themselves in the waiting room, and the staff was friendly.

“Miss Crisp?” The nurse stood at the open door into the reception area.

I got up and followed her to an exam room. I hadn’t been nervous until she instructed me to sit on the table. The site of the stirrups freaked me out a bit, and I was reminded that there was a silent problem I couldn’t see or feel that lurked inside my uterus and dangerously close to my cervix. It was easy to forget about it when I was lying in bed stuffing my face and watching baseball for hours at a time. Maybe Gage was right; maybe we were having a boy—I’d always hated baseball and then suddenly, I’m glued to the screen. And not just Gage’s games. My brain promptly forgot how to do basic addition and subtraction, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember to pull something out of the oven even with the buzzer going off, yet I’d become a database for baseball statistics. It was odd, and I attributed it to more testosterone in my body, which in turn meant the baby had a bat instead of a glove. Another suspicion I’d keep from Mr. Nix.

Dr. Jamison asked me a hundred questions about how I felt, what I ate, bleeding or spotting, and on and on. Just like the last time I was here, I felt great. I hadn’t had any problems other than the rubber band fastening my jeans.

“You ready to get a look?”

“Yep.” I wasn’t terribly talkative.

Once again, the nurse helped me lie back, goo covered my stomach, and he pressed the wand to my belly. I watched him measure organs and body parts and label them on the screen and was impressed with how well he did that with one hand while controlling the ultrasound conductor with the other. He’d never asked what I did for a living—not that I was currently employed—and I’d never offered, even when he spent time explaining things I already understood. I just listened when he talked and smiled while I watched the monitor. Unfortunately, he didn’t spend long enough letting me enjoy time with the baby. It wasn’t a secret what I was here for, and as much as Gage wanted pictures, the real concern had to be addressed.

Dr. Jamison continued clicking on the keyboard, and I had no idea what the nurse was doing or why she was even in the room. Then suddenly, he put the wand in the holder and snapped off his latex gloves. The suspense was unbearable; meanwhile, he acted like he was out for a leisurely walk in the park.

“Things appear to be working themselves out. Even though the placenta is moving, it’s not moving as fast as I’d like to see. I’m confident as the baby grows and the uterus stretches, it will clear the cervix.”

That was good news. It wasn’t great because I wasn’t in the clear; even still, it was encouraging and optimistic.

“Let’s see you back at twenty weeks. I’d be willing to bet at that point, the previa will have passed. You might want to bring Dad for that one if you guys want to know the gender.”

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I wasn’t offering a gender-reveal option to Gage. If he thought he could prove he was having a son, he’d walk home from anywhere in the country to get a look between the little avocado’s legs. And I wasn’t ready to accept it being a boy. I’d heard all about how Gage was as a child, and I’d seen him as an adult—we needed pink, not blue. Since I couldn’t guarantee that outcome, I refused to learn the sex of the baby until the day she came.

“Bonnie will get you copies of the images, and if you’d like a disc, we can put the video on a CD for you for Dad.”

“That would be great.”

My cell phone still sat where I left it when I had pulled out of the driveway. And there were multiple text messages from Gage letting me know he was back at the hotel and waiting for me.

Me: Cautiously, yes.

Sperm Donor: What does that mean?

I should have just called him and put him on speakerphone. It was no wonder his best friend was a three-year-old. They had the same attention span and level of patience.

Less than fifteen minutes later, I hiked up the stairs and into Gage’s room. I really just needed to start leaving my things over here when he was gone. Going back and forth across the hall was pointless. With the rubber-band pants gone and sweats on, I called Gage, who must’ve had his finger on the screen waiting for the phone to ring.

“Burnt To A Crisp, tell me what you know.”

“Are you bouncing on the bed?”

His head, shoulders, and chest moved up and down, over and over. “Exercise ball.”

I didn’t ask. “The placenta has moved a little.”

He didn’t give me a chance to continue before he stopped bouncing and the color drained from his face. “Why the hell did you drive home?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“What if you hemorrhage?”

When I told him about the placenta previa, I didn’t stop to think that my knowledge of the issue was greater than his, which wasn’t fair. He worried enough without me leaving him in the dark. I’d thought he understood after all the research he did, yet seeing his expression indicated that wasn’t true.

“It’s a good thing. We want it to move.”

“I don’t understand. Doesn’t that put you at risk for it breaking and you bleeding out?” That was a tad melodramatic. Again, my fault.

“Think of my uterus as a balloon. The baby is inside the balloon.”

“That’s not safe. There are warning labels all over those things to keep them away from infants—yet they sell them for birthday parties. Bastards.”

“Do you want to stay in the dark, or would you like to know what’s going on with your baby?”

“Baby.”

“So, the fetus is inside the balloon. Now, imagine there’s a sticker near the opening where the air comes out—the opening would be the cervix, and the sticker would represent the placenta. You with me so far?”

“Yep.” He’d started bouncing slightly, and his cheeks regained some color.

“As the baby grows and the balloon gets bigger, the sticker stretches and moves farther away from the opening. Since I’m not all that big—although I feel like a blimp—the sticker hasn’t moved much, yet. Dr. Jamison is confident it will clear the cervix before my next ultrasound.”

“When is that?”

“On the twelfth of next month. It’s a home game, so I scheduled it in the morning in case you want to go.”

“Of course. We can find out the sex of the baby at that visit, right?”

“How did you know that?” So much for keeping that little secret to myself.

He rolled over on the ball to the nightstand in the hotel room and held up his baby bible. I cringed, wondering what kind of argument this would bring.

“I think we should wait to find out the gender.”

“What? Why?”

“So it’s a surprise.”

“It will be a surprise—on the twelfth. I haven’t gotten to be there for any of this stuff; let me have this one. Please?”

“Ugh. I’d say you can find out and I’ll wait except that would never work.”

“Why? I can keep a secret.”

“You’ll gloat if it’s a boy and pout if it’s a girl. You might not say the words, but even Corinne could pick up on that with no trouble.”

“She wants you to have a boy, too.” His relationship with Corinne could thaw the coldest of hearts.

“Why’s that?”

“So she can marry a Nix, and they can ride off into the sunset on ponies together.” He looked at me like I was an idiot for not realizing why a three-year-old cared about the gender of our child. “She wants to wear her Easter dress and pin flowers to Sherbet’s hair. I tried to tell her I didn’t think that dress would still fit for their wedding and ponies don’t make very good flower girls, but she wasn’t having any of that.”

“Who’s Sherbet?”

He rolled his eyes. “Her pony. Duh.”

“Corinne has a pony? Where’d she get it?”

“From me, silly. Three is a big birthday—I had to make it special, especially since I couldn’t go to her party.”

“So you sent a pony for the kids to ride at the party?” I was sure Coby and Ellie loved that surprise showing up on their doorstep. “That was…nice of you.”

“No…” He stared up at the ceiling, shaking his head just slightly. “That would be like sending her a box of crayons and telling her she can’t use them. I gave Corinne her own pony—to keep.”

“Please tell me you asked Coby first.”

“Of course not. She’s my best friend. I can give her anything I want for her birthday.”

I didn’t even want to think about Coby or Ellie’s reaction to that delivery. Thank God my name hadn’t been attached to it.

“But don’t worry…I told her it was from the both of us.” He winked like he’d somehow done me a favor. “Come on, enough of the chitchat, show me what you’ve got.”

Gage and I spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening looking at the ultrasound pictures, and I played the video on his computer for him to watch, even though I was sure it was grainy and hard to see. He didn’t care. He had me play it three separate times for different guys on the team while he beamed with pride.

“You look tired, Katiebug. Why don’t you get some sleep? You’re going to need it tomorrow.”

“What’s going on tomorrow?” It was so easy to mess with him.

“I’m wounded.”

“Are you going to be late?” I stared at a calendar like most women stared at a clock when it came to a man. I wasn’t ready to try to determine if it was just having company that I craved, relationship-free sex—mind blowing, I might add—or Gage himself.

“Probably. But I don’t mind waking you up for a Nix-fix.”

“Good luck in the game. And be safe coming home.”

“See you tomorrow. I’m glad things went well today. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you.”

“It’s okay. You’ll be there for the next one.”

Without knowing what time to expect Gage—regardless of how badly I wanted to see him…or feel him—I didn’t even attempt to stay awake. Nine o’clock was late for me these days, and it took no effort to fall asleep. I wanted to believe he wasn’t getting his fix when he wasn’t home, and it was easier to convince myself of that since he’d started with all the FaceTime sessions. But that was an assumption I couldn’t make. Just because I was pining away for him to spend some time between my thighs didn’t mean he had any loyalty to me. We weren’t in a relationship. Hell, neither of us even liked each other—or we didn’t at one point. That seemed to have changed a lot with this trip as well. I hadn’t spent any time thinking about how many hours the two of us actually talked…about nothing. Suffice it to say, a nap would do me good. Then, whenever he did show up, if he wanted to play, I’d be up for it.

What I should have done was eat my Wheaties and chugged some Gatorade. It was safe to say, Gage hadn’t satisfied any urges while he’d been gone, and he made up for each one of the ten days he was away. Thoroughly sated, I closed my eyes as the sun started to peek through the blinds to welcome a new day, and I allowed myself to burrow into Gage’s side, knowing he’d be home every night for the next week.