December 1992

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“It’s okay, babe.” Maverick pulled the stick from Jenny’s clenched fist. Studying the blue cross that indicated “pregnant,” he repeated the reassurance for them both. “It’s okay. We’ll make it work.”

He reached deep and tried to figure out how he felt about this unplanned and unexpected development. Ten minutes ago, he’d been sitting on the sofa, watching Seinfeld with his girl, playing lightly with her tits and thinking about tying her to the bed and eating her out.

Then Jenny had muted the set during a commercial break and announced, “I’m a week late.”

While he’d still been in brain freeze, she’d gotten up and picked up her purse from the floor. Rooting through it, she’d pulled out a purple box—a test kit.

Now they were sitting together on the side of the bathtub. He was staring at the test result, Jenny was crying, and the world was different. He was going to be a father.

She wiped her cheeks and snatched the test stick back. Tossing it into the wastebasket, she got up from the side of the tub. She ripped a few squares of toilet paper off the roll and blew her nose, then tossed the soggy wad into the trash.

“No. There’s nothing to work out. I’ll handle it.”

Still sitting on the tub, he caught her hand before she could turn away. “What d’you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

He did, but there was no way that was the end of the conversation. “No, Jen.”

“I’m not ready to be a mom—I can barely take care of myself. And we’ve never even talked about kids. This is not your call, Mav.”

She tried to free her hand, but Maverick held tight and pulled her close, bringing her between his legs. “Fuck that. You’re right—we’ve never talked about it. But we made a kid anyway. Together. So let’s talk this out together.”

With a sigh, she relented, her body visibly relaxing, and he smiled up at her.

“So, do you want to be a family with me, Jenny?”

He’d caught her off guard, and she laughed. The lingering film of tears dampened its tone. “That’s where you want to start?”

“How about here: I want to be a family with you.”

“Why?”

“Why? I love you, babe. You know that.”

“Do I? You never say it.”

“I do say it. I just said it.”

“Counting now, any idea how many times you’ve ever said those words to me?”

He heard the click of the landmine he’d just stepped on, and he didn’t answer.

“Four. Four times. The other three times, you were inside me when you said them—once, you were actually coming when you said them. We’ve been together thirteen months. That means we had an anniversary last month. Did you realize that?”

No, he hadn’t. “Never said I was romantic, Jen.”

Another laugh, this one sharp with cynicism. “No, you didn’t. But I’m just supposed to believe that you love me.”

He did love her. He loved her completely. Not a minute of any day passed that she wasn’t in his thoughts in some way. He was happiest in her company, and he missed her when he wasn’t. He wanted to share his life with her—he was sharing his life with her. He didn’t think about anniversaries or flowers or candy or throwing out random phrases because he...just didn’t think about that shit.

He wasn’t romantic, but he was in love.

“It’s not my style, babe. But I know you know how I feel. I know I show you.”

He did show her. He had her back, always. He helped her deal with her bastard of a father. He got in that man’s way every way he could—and he’d happily do more than that if Jenny would just fucking let him. He took care of her when her migraines laid her out. He’d moved her into his place, away from her old man. He kept her safe, and they were making a life. A good life. A happy one. She was his family, and he’d never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted a family of his own.

He showed her. Every day.

“You do,” she agreed and put her hand on his head, stroking through his hair. “I know you love me. And I love you. But you can’t expect a little kid to just know. You have to say the words, too. All the time. You have to remember their birthdays. Every one. You have to tell them every day how important they are to you. You can’t ever let them forget. Not ever.”

Her voice had taken on a tremor as she’d spoken, and her hand had clenched in his hair. Maverick understood everything all at once, and he pulled her down to sit on his lap.

“Babe. I love you—there, that’s five.” Her laugh was full of tears again. “You’re the most important thing in my life. I’ll say it more. I’ll tell you every day, if you want. I’ll tell our kid every fucking night when I tuck her in. I’m not your dad, and neither are you. Our kid will have a good family. I promise you—our kid will have a great life. And so will we.”

Jenny studied him for a long time, the focus of her eyes—her fantastic eyes, pale green rimmed with deep blue—moving from left to right, back and forth, like his thoughts could be read.

“You want this? For your whole life, you want this?”

Maverick thought about that. Jenny was waitressing and taking classes to be a legal assistant. He did body work at Delaney’s Sinclair. And he had the Bulls. They had the beginnings of a modest but good life. A happy life. Just the two of them. When they were together, they laughed, they played, they relaxed, and they fucked like animals. They almost never fought, or even bickered. They had a good thing going.

A kid changed it all. Forever. Did he want that? God yes, he wanted that. A family of his own? Fuck yes.

He gazed into those lively, remarkable eyes. She was beautiful. Their kid would be beautiful. And she, or he, would be loved. Everything would change, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be for the better.

He glanced down into the wastebasket. He’d taken the trash out after dinner, so it was empty except for the stick Jenny had just tossed away and the tissue she’d lobbed in after it. The stick had landed with the window up. He reached in and reclaimed it.

That blue cross, changing everything. Forever.

“Yeah, babe. I want it.”