Fair Game: A Football Romance (77 page)

“Do you regret . . .?” My hands glide over her soapy breasts and down to her belly, where she covers them with hers. I prop my chin on her shoulder.

“Never, not for one second. Well, maybe a couple of seconds when I was barfing my brains out early on.”

When she relaxes against my shoulder, I’m surprised at how relieved I am to hear her say those words.

“I don’t blame you for that, and for the record, I’ve never regretted it either, not even when you were barfing your brains out.”

“Well good . . . I think,” she says.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Maybe Savannah will be able to come by and help you test drive your new car.”

Her face tilts toward mine, and I see a tiny frown line between her eyes.

“You didn’t . . . King, I don’t need a car. You have so many. I can drive one of those.”

“Nonsense, those are
my
cars. You need your own.”

I step away, pour soap on her loofa, and start washing her back to avoid an argument. She’s taking the car, period. It’s safe, and it will be a good family vehicle for all of us when we do regular family things like . . . hell, I don’t even know what normal families do.

“I was planning on surprising you when we went to get your license, but since you’ve flipped the script on that, I’ll have it delivered tomorrow. Rinse.”

I turn her by the shoulders to face me and place my hands on either side of her head, gently tilting it back to rinse out the shampoo.

“You’re sort of a bully, you know?” she says with her eyes closed as water cascades over every gorgeous curve of her body. She’s biting her lip to keep from laughing.

“You don’t know the half of it, baby.” She releases her lip and a smile spreads across her lips for a moment before it falls suddenly.

“King?” Her eyes fly open and she stares at me with lifted brows and her mouth agape.

“What? Are you okay? Did your water break? Are you having a contraction?”

She bursts out laughing, and for a second I wonder if pregnant women have moments of insanity. While she laughs, she places her hand on my shoulder for support.

“I’m sorry.” Giggle. “Your face.” More giggling. “Was priceless.” Her hand covers her mouth as she laughs harder and I sigh.

Fuck . . . I’m a first time father. What’s she expect? I’m
always
fucking worried. She’s not due for four weeks, but anything can happen.

“I just realized I don’t know when your birthday is,” she says when her fits of giggles subside.

“May fourteenth, nineteen ninety-nine.”

“Wow, you’re old,” she deadpans until I can’t hold it in anymore and we both burst out laughing together. There are six years between us, but you’d never know to be around us. Her maturity and my occasional immaturity bring us to a very level playing field, even if the world doesn’t see it that way.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Holland

I’ve been contracting for a week on and off. I haven’t mentioned it to King, though. He’s so skittish that I can’t even burp without him asking, ‘Are you okay?’ It’s cute, but Lord, he’s going to be an overprotective daddy. I’m due today . . . Valentine's Day, which is appropriate considering the amount of love flowing between the three of us, but for some reason, King doesn’t think I’ll deliver today. He’s so sure of this that he’s planned a double date with Savannah and her boyfriend, Troy, which is going to be weird . . . really weird.

King and I relate on more of an adult level. I’m an old soul, and he’s well . . . he’s just old. Savannah and Troy’s relationship is new and full of insecurities, but Savannah has some serious trust issues. I think it stems from being abandoned by her father. She says Troy is ‘shady as fuck’, but she also says she loves him. It’s a whole different kind of drama than what King and I have gone through, are going through, and will continue to go through if my mama has anything to do with it.

“All set for date night?” King enters the bathroom, tying his tie and eyeing the vanity that I have monopolized with all of my girlie things. He tends to use the royal throne across the hall unless we are bathing together, in which case I join him for a bath.

“Yeah, I just have to find some shoes to wear. I still have feet, don’t I?” I stretch my neck trying to look over my blue chiffon covered belly, but it’s hopeless.

“Yes, baby, you still have the most beautiful feet of any woman, ever.” He slides his arms around my ‘waist’ from behind, but his hands don’t meet in the front anymore.

“Oh, stop lying. I’m enormous, and I know my feet are swollen and ugly. Can’t we just stay home and lay in bed with a box of ding dongs and watch The Brady Bunch or something?”               I stick out my bottom lip and pout in a last-ditch effort to derail his dinner plans.

“No way, this could be our last date before we become parents, and it’s our first Valentine’s Day together. Come on, I’ll get you some shoes.”

I lay my mascara down and let him lead me to the bed. I sit and lean back on my arms while he disappears into the closet for my shoes.

“When are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Not until we’re there.”

“Have I ever been there?”

“Oh yes, lots of times.”

Lots of times? I’ve never been to any restaurant lots of times.

He returns holding a strappy pair of flat sandals that will go perfectly with my blue sleeveless dress.

“You’re being so mysterious.”

“
You
are trying to ruin my surprise,” he says, squatting between my legs to buckle my shoes when I feel a warm gush of fluid spreading under me. I gasp and sit up straight, but that just makes the gushing increase, and I watch the thin material of my dress turn dark with wetness.

“Okay, you’ve told me to stop overreacting, so I’m going to ignore that gasp . . .” King’s eyes move up my legs until he sees what I’m seeing. I watch his Adam’s apple jump in his throat when he swallows hard. Our eyes meet and time stands still. This is it. After all these months of waiting and planning, our lives are about to change forever.

“Is that?” he asks, looking from my lap to my face.

“Uh huh.” I nod, keeping my eyes on his. I don’t want to look anymore.

“Should we go?”

“Uh huh.”

King leaves me to get a towel and some comfortable clothes for me to change into. He calls Savannah and calmly tells her we are going to the hospital because my water broke, and we’re sorry to have to cancel.

I’m starting to freak out at his lack of freaking out when he makes another call, asking Sebastián to bring the car around and to throw a garbage bag on the passenger seat. When he hangs up and slips his phone into the breast pocket of his suit that he was dressed in for our evening out, I can’t hold back anymore.

“Why are you so calm? We’re having a baby, King, a baby. Shit, this is really happening. I’m not ready to be a mama. I can’t do this.”

He crosses the room to wrap his arms around me in front of the mirror, where I’ve been rooted for the last few minutes, looking at myself.

“Hey . . . hey, breathe, baby . . . deep breaths in through your nose, out through your mouth.” I follow his instructions and listen to his soothing voice.

“That’s it, good girl, just like that. You’re going to be fine, you’re prepared, you’re smart, and you are going to be a wonderful mother.”

“Who are you?” I ask between deep breaths.

“I’m actually very good in stressful situations when I know I have to be.” He smiles crookedly at me in the mirror and slides his hands from my belly to squeeze my shoulders.

“Ready, champ?” He turns me to face him and holds his hand up for a high-five, and I slap it.

“I guess so, there’s no going back now, huh?”

“Nope. Everything is going to be fine, baby, really. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Pinky swear?” I ask.

One corner of his mouth lifts in a smile as he nods his head up and down, offering me his pinky finger.

“Yeah, baby, pinky swear.”

He pulls me into a kiss by our joined pinky fingers. It’s a kiss full of reassurance and tenderness that relaxes me. It’s a kiss that says ‘let me help you’, ‘let me shoulder some of this burden.’

“Are you having contractions yet?”

“No, well yeah, I mean . . . I don’t know. I’ve been having Braxton Hicks for a week. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. How do I know the difference?”

“It’s all right. I knew. I felt them when you were sleeping, and my guess is that they’ll hurt when they’re real.” He shrugs and slings our overnight bag over his shoulder at the same time that he guides me toward the door with his free hand on my back. I twist to look back one last time, making sure we have everything, and notice the white duvet covered in amniotic fluid.

“I think we need a new comforter.”

“Already bought a replacement. It’s in the closet.”

“Well, you’ve just thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“I like to be prepared and organized.” When he winks at me, a warm sensation spreads through my chest, and I know he will make good on his pinky swear. Everything is going to be okay. I love him and I trust him. I have no doubt that he will take care of us and make sure we’re safe forever.

When we step outside the quiet club entrance, Sebastián is waiting in the car King gave to me when I got my license. He thought a white Mercedes sedan would be a perfect first car for me—a family car, he said . . . ha. Savannah’s eyes popped out of her head when she saw that the speedometer went over two hundred and fifty mph the first time we took it for a test drive, but she quickly stifled her enthusiasm when King gave her a ‘don’t you fucking dare’ look.

“You okay?”

I knew he couldn’t go much longer without asking, and I’d like to tell him ‘Yeah, sure’, but I’m not. I think I’ve figured out the difference between Braxton hicks and real contractions, and real contractions suck. My belly is tight, and I feel like I’m having the worst period of my life every five minutes.

“It’s starting to hurt,” I say, pausing with my hand on the roof of the car to breathe through one of these miserable period cramps before getting in.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. Contractions can come on faster when your water breaks.”

I look up at him with disbelief when the wave of pain subsides, and he shrugs again.

“
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
,” he says, as if that’s the answer to everything.

Sebastián is standing on the sidewalk, looking down into the car when I get in.

“Buena suerte y felicitaciones,” he says. Sebastián isn’t one to be very sentimental, but his words spoken in his native language are full of sincerity, and his expression is tender and encouraging. He has been teaching me Spanish since I moved in with King, so I know he just told me good luck and congratulations.

“Thanks, see you soon,” I say.

King slides into the driver’s seat and closes my window before pulling away. We’re having a baby . . . I can’t believe it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

King

Eight pounds and one ounce of perfection entered our world six hours later.

“She’s perfect.” Tears are streaming down her flushed cheeks. The delivery was exhausting, but Holland was a champ. She’s a little shaky still from the hormones rushing through her body, so I offer to take our daughter from her so she can rest.

“Of course she is, do you want me to take her?”

“No, I need both of you close. Can you just come and sit next to me?”

“Of course, but are you hurting?” I nod toward her belly.

I have just witnessed a doctor performing what I consider to be a gruesome repair of Holland’s female anatomy. He assured me everything went fine and that ‘things’ will be back to normal before we know it. I don’t think I’m ever going to be back to normal after watching an entire human come out of her body. I can’t imagine how she’s sitting on her ass after all that. She’s got to be sore. She was phenomenal. She even refused an epidural when the doctors and nurses were practically insisting she have one.

“Are you disappointed she’s not a boy?” she asks.

“You’re kidding, right?” I raise my eyebrows and sit on the edge of the bed, wiping her tears away with a scratchy hospital tissue. “Blow,” I say and hold another tissue to her nose.

“Okay, Daddy.” One corner of her mouth lifts in a mischievous smile with the double entendre, and she honks loudly into the tissue before handing it back to me.

“Watch it now, Mommy,” I say, and when I stretch forward to toss it into the trash, she reaches out to stop me, placing her hand on my stubble covered cheek. Her eyes are serious now, and the playfulness is gone.

“I mean it. I know you were looking forward to having a son.” Her eyes dart back and forth between mine, trying to read what I’m thinking.

The truth is that I am so incredibly smitten with this beautiful baby girl that I couldn’t care less that she’s not a boy.

I cover her hand on my cheek with mine and tell her exactly that. “Don’t ever, for a second, think that I’m disappointed. I thought she was a boy . . . I don’t know why, but she’s not, and I’m glad. Do you want to know why?”

“Yes.”

“Because now I have two remarkable, stunning women in my life instead of just one, and it doesn’t get much better than that, baby. It doesn’t get better than that.”

I pull her into the crook of my neck, pressing her face against my skin so I can kiss the top of her head. She snuggles against me, holding the baby between us and trying not to smash her.

“Here, let me have her,” I say, taking the little pink bundle out of her arms. I stand and turn to sit in the bed next to her. I slide one arm around her shoulders and hold the baby in my other arm so Holland can rest her head on my chest and ogle her.

“It’s weird, huh?” she says thoughtfully.

“Being a parent? Yeah, really weird. Doesn’t feel real yet.”

“It’s gonna feel real when she’s waking us up every two hours to eat.” I feel her smile against my chest.

“It won’t be that bad. You’ve been getting up every two hours to pee for months,” I remind her.

“That’s true. What are we going to name her?” Holland alternates between tenderly stroking the baby’s cheek with the tip of her finger and running her hand along the waffled texture of the pink blanket. She’s having trouble believing this is real too.

“You don’t have any girl names picked out?” I ask.

“No, you were dead set on her being a boy.”

“All right. Okay, do you want to name her after your mother?”

“King, that’s not even funny.”

“Sorry, you’re right. Speaking of your mother, did you call her and tell her you were coming to the hospital?”

“No. She never wanted me to have her, so I figured she wouldn’t want to be a part of this.”

“I think you should call. She’s your mom, baby. Don’t you think she’s gotten past the baby thing yet?”

“It’s not so much the baby thing as it is the violin thing. She thinks any chance of my being a professional violinist went out the window when I decided to have a baby. She’s obsessed with my success.”

“You can be successful at more than one thing, you know. I mean, your talent is larger than life. I have no doubt you’ll be famous. A baby is just a little detour on the map. You’re still going to get there, just not when you planned on it.”

“When
she
planned on it.”

“Let’s not hash this over again today of all days. We’ll deal with your mother later, but I do think you should call her and tell her she’s a grandma.” I smile and wink. She’s going to hate that title.

“Yeah, she’s gonna love that . . .
Grandma.
”

“Back to names—how about Destiny or Doris?”

“Destiny . . . or . . . Doris?” She giggles, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I should have never mentioned her mother.

“No? Okay, how about September or Marlene?” I say.

Our nurse is shuffling around at the other end of the room, cleaning up after the delivery. She stops and raises her eyebrows, giving me an ‘are you nuts’ look.

“September? What the heck, King, it’s February.”

“Okay, February then.”

“No, no months or seasons. Something romantic because she was born on Valentine’s Day.”

“Romantic. Okay, let’s see . . .” I’ve been messing around, but now I’m really thinking. What is a romantic name for a girl?

“Juliette, like from
Romeo and Juliette
. I know it’s a tragic story, but it was the ultimate romance, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do, and I love it. Juliette,” she says to the tiny wrinkly face sleeping in my arms. “Your name will be Juliette.”

I glance up at the nurse who is finishing up, and she gives me a very approving smile before leaving the room.

“Your nurse likes it too,” I say.

“She’s probably just glad we didn’t name her September.”

“Whatever, September’s a great name. What about a middle name?”

“We could name her after your mama . . . wait, I don’t even know what your mama’s name was. That’s terrible, King. I’m so sorry I’ve never asked.”              

She props up on her elbow to look at my face and winces. “Wow, that numbing medicine is really wearing off,” she says.

“I’ll get the nurse. You need some pain meds. And don’t worry about my mother’s name. You already know it.”

“I do? How?”

“Because I just told you, Juliette.” I kiss her again on the head before getting up to put Juliette into the bassinette.

“Oh, King, your mama’s name was Juliette?”

“It was her middle name. Her first was Isabelle.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“I wasn’t sure. People are so into weird names these days,” I say, shrugging as if naming my daughter after my mother isn’t that important, but it is. I loved my mother very much, and a big piece of me died when she died. Naming my daughter after her feels like I’m getting a little bit of her back. If Holland had shot down my suggestion, it would have stung.

“Well, I love it, and just so you know, I would have named her Gertrude if it made you happy.”

“Yeah? I can’t believe it. My grandma’s name was Gertrude. We can name her Juliette Gertrude Romero.” And with that, Juliette burst into tears.

“She doesn’t like it, and you’re kidding, right? About the Gertrude thing?”

“Yeah, just messing with ya. Why don’t we give her your middle name?”

“Blue? Really? It’s sorta weird. I thought you didn’t like weird.”

“It’s not weird, and yes, really. Let’s name her Juliette Blue Romero. It sounds perfect.”

“Okay, so now that she has a name, can I take a nap?” Her big puppy dog eyes tug at my heart.

“You don’t have to ask me, baby. You’ve been through a lot today. I’d say you deserve a good, long nap. You want me to call Savannah and your dad? I’ll tell them to visit tomorrow when you’re more up to it.”

“Yeah, that’s good, but you’ll come back to bed with me, right?”

I move to her side and take the hair tie from her wrist. I scoop her damp hair into a ponytail the way she likes it, all messy and floppy on top of her head, and secure it with the band.

“I’ll go make the calls and tell Sebastián about the baby—he’s in the waiting room—then I’ll be back, promise.”

“Pinky swear?” she asks.

“Yeah, baby, pinky swear,” I say, linking pinky fingers with her again. “Great work today, champ. You were fucking amazing.”

“Thanks.” She snuggles down into bed with her arms wrapped around her pillow. Her weak smile and droopy eyes tell me all I need to know. She needs some serious rest. I tuck her in and dim the lights.

“Should I take her to the nursery so you can sleep?”

“No, please, just roll her over here next to me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be separated from her.”

“Okay,” I say, rolling the bassinette right up next to her bed and lowering the bed rail so she can reach out and touch Juliette while she sleeps.

Standing in the door of her hospital room, I watch the two of them until Holland’s heavy eyelids close and Juliette is still under her mother’s hand. They’re so beautiful that I slip out my phone and take a picture of the tender moment. Those two girls are my world. They are my responsibility, and I plan on providing them with everything they need in life to grow and flourish. After being alone in the world for the past five years, it’s an amazing feeling to have people I can call family again.

“King.” Someone whispers from behind me, and I turn to see Sebastián and Candy holding hands a few feet away. I still have a hard time thinking of those two as a couple for some reason.

I motion for them to come closer and hold my finger over my lips.

“They’re sleeping,” I say, and Candy peeks around me to look at them.

“Girl or boy?” Sebastián asks.

“Girl,” I say.

“You were wrong,” he says.

Candy clasps her hands together. “A girl,” she whispers loudly.

“Yep, now I have two women in my life. Here are some pictures I took earlier.” I hold out my phone to Sebastián, and he scrolls through them, his face brightening a little more with every photo.

“What did you name her?” he asks.

“Juliette . . . Juliette Blue Romero,” I say with just a little pride. Sebastián stops scrolling and stares at me. Candy notices the awkward stillness and compliments me on the name.

“It’s so beautiful. Where did you come up with it?” she asks.

“It was his mother’s middle name,” Sebastián answers, handing me back my phone, and I swear I see tears in his eyes before he turns abruptly and walks away.

“Oh, did I say something wrong?” Candy asks.

“I don’t think so. He knew my mother very well. Maybe it just brought back some memories or something,” I say for her benefit, but inside, I’m really shocked at Sebastián’s strong reaction to my naming my daughter after my mother. I thought it was a perfectly acceptable thing to do, but Sebastián seemed torn between grief and anger when I told him.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hey, can I see those pictures now?” she asks, and I hand her my phone.

“I’m gonna go see if he’s okay. Be right back.” I turn and head down the hall where Sebastián disappeared.

When I find him, he’s in the hospital lobby, staring out the window into the dark with his hands in his pockets. I stand next to him and look out into the dark parking lot of the hospital.

“You okay?” I ask

“Oh yeah. Just caught me by surprise with the name is all.”

“Yeah? It’s not so weird to name your kid after your mother, is it?”

“No, of course not. We just all figured it was a boy. You were pretty insistent, so I figured you had the OB tell you and you were just keeping it a secret.”

“Nope, I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“Is Holland all right? Did everything go well?”

“Yep, she’s great—tired as hell, but she was amazing.” I glance over and catch him swiping tears from his face.

“What’s going on with you? Why the tears, old man?” I ask.

“Just happy for you, that’s all, King. I never saw this coming, but I know it’s what you’ve always wanted.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

An ambulance speeds by the window, drawing our attention back to the parking lot with its red and blue flashing lights.

I slide my hand to the back of my neck and sigh.              

“Now I just need to get out of this this damn business without getting us all killed.”

Sebastián turns to look at me hard for a long time before turning to look out the dark window again.

His cold, skeptical eyes drain me of the adrenaline high I’ve been riding since Holland delivered.

Getting out of the drug business is proving to be much more difficult than I’d anticipated. There is no one left of the Romero family to handle the business, only me. We have the largest, most intricately orchestrated importation of illegal high quality drugs coming into the United States and Europe. The people I deal with trust me because my name is synonymous with a smooth, uncomplicated business. My father was equally feared and respected in his industry. He developed a relationship with the law in the countries he distributed to, and they trusted no one but Arturo Romero—now that he’s dead, they trust his son. They hold me to a certain standard. They expect things, demand things that only the Romero name can deliver. I’ve been trying to find a way out ever since I found out Holland was pregnant, but so far nobody’s budging. They want my drugs, my connections and my protection.