by Masen, Kat
I’m speechless, still not understanding how that links to my work. “But… I don’t understand?”
“You’re experienced in running foundations, charity events, all the things we will need to do to make this work,” he tells me with a serious expression. I can tell he’s thought long and hard about this. “Playing A-league means my time is dedicated to training and games. I don’t trust many people, but I trust you. And, so does Chance. So, what do you think?”
“It sounds… too good to be true, but I’d been saving to move out of Aubrey and Chance’s place.”
He places his hand in his pocket, removing a piece of paper. Carefully, he hands it to me, fixated on my reaction. I open the paper. It’s the first page of a contract. My eyes scan through the words until I comprehend what it means.
“Wait, Hermosa Beach… the house next door… I’m confused. Like rent it for the summer, but you want me to work here?”
“No… like live in it,” he states. “As in, it’s ours. You can get rid of that awful blue wallpaper in the bedroom.”
He bought us the house.
My lips fall apart, and in a dazed state, I try to find the right words to say at this moment.
“But I love that wallpaper.”
“Or keep it.” He laughs, lacing his arms around my waist. “Say yes, please?”
Olly wants the best of both worlds, and that’s exactly what he’s given us. Neither one of us makes sacrifices, we both will continue to follow our passions, experience the best of both our cultures and the best part—we will do it right beside each other.
He draws me to him with his eyes, inclines his face in perfect position with my own, and lays his mouth on mine gently. My hands wrap around his neck, gliding against his hair and caressing it between my fingers. Like a surging tide of warmth, leaving me helpless in his arms, my heart begins to sing the loudest of melodies. This beautiful man is all mine.
His insistent mouth continues to part my swollen lips, sending wild tremors to every inch of my body. I pull away, shallow breaths consuming me as I stare deeply into his captivating green eyes.
“You could have shown me a card box, and I would have said yes.”
“Well, if that’s the case…”
I gently slap his chest, my cheekbones hurting from the continuous smile I’m unable to hold back.
“I love you, Olly.”
“Of course, you do, Gabs.”
I pull his face down to mine with annoyance, playfully teasing him.
“Such an arrogant Aussie.”
Gabriella
“Here, let me help you.”
Aubrey is bursting at the seams. Six days overdue with her second child, and she’s become a miserable beast. I shouldn’t use the word beast, after all, she is my best friend. An overly hormonal loose cannon would be more precise.
Chance has raced to be by her side, latching onto her arm to help her off the sofa.
“Princess, how about I get that drink for you?”
“I think you’ve done enough.”
Oliver is in the kitchen, eyes wide and hiding from Aubrey. He isn’t a fan of cooking but smartly offered to prepare the salad and garlic bread to avoid her.
Poor Chance, I will give credit where credit is due. He has been taking care of CJ, doing everything he can for Aubrey to make her comfortable, yet this baby is refusing to come out.
Escaping to the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of iced tea.
“Was I this bad when Alexander was born?”
“You had your moments…”
I playfully punch him in the arm.
“She looks miserable.”
“Any day now,” he says, chopping up the cucumber. “Chance and I have a bet running.”
“What... that’s awful,” I scold him. “Aubrey’s about to give birth. This is an important moment. No bets should be placed on—”
“I want in,” Aubrey shouts from the sofa. “How much?”
“Princess, I hardly think—”
“One hundred bucks buy-in,” Olly states, wiping his hands on the dishtowel. “I’ve locked in Friday.”
“And you?” Aubrey stares at Chance with a less-than-enthused expression. “The instigator of all this madness.”
Chance scratches the back of his neck, torn between participating or keeping his mouth shut. “I’ve locked in Thursday.”
“Fine, I’ll take tomorrow,” Aubrey agrees, rubbing her stomach.
“Well, fine.” I throw my hands up in the air. “If you’re all playing, I’m in. I’m locking in tonight.”
There’s a hush over the room.
Chance closes his eyes as if he’s saying a silent prayer.
Aubrey shakes her head, shrugging off the notion.
“That’s a mighty big bet, Gabs.”
“Look at her.” Everyone turns around to look at Aubrey. “Her stomach has dropped, it’s almost touching her goddamn knees. She cleaned our pantry and even labeled all of the containers with color-coded stickers and stocked them in alphabetical order.”
“So, I like things in order,” Aubrey exhales.
“And you keep asking Chance to rub your lower back because your back pain is intolerable.”
Olly raises his hand, quick to command the room.
“We’re all locked in,” he informs us. “Now, let’s have dinner, and for Christ’s sake, Aubrey, keep your legs shut till Friday.”
Olly lifts Alexander onto his lap as he attempts to eat his spaghetti bolognese. CJ sits beside him infatuated with Alexander’s chubby little feet.
I serve myself a plate and welcome the glass of wine since I stopped breastfeeding months ago.
Alexander Miles Madden is exactly five months and three days old. Our wicked week of making up resulted in me falling pregnant straight away. To say we were shocked would have been an understatement.
At the time, I argued science and swore you could get pregnant doing anal. I blamed Olly’s radioactive sperm with supernatural powers fighting through my diaphragm. It took us days to wrap the pregnancy around our heads until our first ultrasound when it finally sunk in.
We both couldn’t haven’t asked for a more precious baby. Alexander has everyone wrapped around his chubby little fingers. He’s the spitting image of Olly—nothing at all like me.
The pregnancy, and the birth, meant we had to put off the wedding. Between Olly playing soccer, sorting out our visas so we could live in both the States and Australia, plus working with Chance on setting up the youth soccer academy, there was time for little else. I enjoy telling people I am technically still on the market just to rile up a reaction from him.
Olly’s phone on the counter begins to chime, and quickly, he passes Alexander over to me.
“Hello, Oliver speaking,” he says, walking out of the room to take the call.
Chance places his fork down at the same time Pixy walks into the room and rubs his body against Chance’s chair.
“Are you sure you don’t need my help with the fundraiser next week?” he asks, rubbing behind Pixy’s ear. “And I’m almost done with interviewing the summer coaches.”
I swallow the piece of bread I’m eating, balancing Alexander on one knee. “All under control. You just go have a baby.”
Aubrey huffs. “Yeah… Chance is going to be so busy.”
We chat for a little while longer until Olly walks back into the room. His expression is blanching, almost pale. Rubbing his arms absently, he sits at the table in utter silence.
Worried, I place my hand on his. “Olly, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve been asked to attend a meeting here in LA…” he trails off in a neutral tone. “They’re offering me a deal to play for major league soccer.”
Chance scrapes his chair along the floor, jumping up. “Mate! This is fucking amazing!”
“Chance, language,” Aubrey scolds. “Olly, what does this mean… major league soccer?”
&nbs
p; “It means they want me to play midfielder. They’re offering me a three-year contract.” A smile finally plays on his lips, reality starting to kick in. “I’ve dreamed of playing major league soccer for such a long time, but—”
“But nothing.” I place my hand on his, squeezing it tight. “I’m so proud of you. Where do you need us and when?”
Chance laughs as if he’s in on the private joke.
Damn these boys and their soccer knowledge.
“Here.” Olly grins. “The home ground is thirty minutes away.”
With Alexander on my lap, I lean as close as possible to squeeze into Olly’s embrace. This is such amazing news. At times, the traveling back and forth from Australia has proved exhausting. Knowing we can spend more time in the States has lifted my mood.
Chance brings a bottle of scotch to the table. “This calls for a celebration.”
Aubrey’s face widens in shock, her hands instantly clutching her stomach.
“Holy shit… it’s time.”
“Time for what?” Chance asks, oblivious to his wife and still pouring the scotch.
“My water just broke.”
Time is of the essence.
Chance races next door to grab Aubrey’s bag while Olly loads Aubrey into the van. I stay behind with Alexander and CJ, panicking myself as the memory of giving birth comes crashing like torrential waves.
Outside, I reassure Aubrey that CJ will be fine with us for as long as we need to take care of him while she goes and has the baby. I go as far as to let her know Pixy is even welcomed to stay over.
After the rush of getting her to the hospital, Olly collapses on the sofa, and I fall beside him. The two of us watch CJ sit beside Alexander who’s propped up in his little baby chair. He runs his monster trucks in front of him, goading a spurt of giggles as he makes loud noises.
“I wish I had a brother. My sisters were too feminine and made me dress up in ballerina clothes.” Olly sighs.
I cover my mouth, hiding my laughter. “I know, Matilda showed me the picture. Pink really goes well with your skin tone.”
“Seriously, emancipation looks really good right now.”
We continue to watch them until I try to remember the date, so I can note it as baby Bateman number two’s birthday. The harder I try to remember and count, a sinking feeling begins to creep in. “Oh my God.” I jump off the sofa, racing toward the kitchen. The calendar is stuck to the refrigerator. My hands glide across it, counting the days.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, fighting off the distraction. “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five—”
“Okay, I think I know how to count,” Olly complains.
“I’m seven days late.”
“No…”
The adrenaline floods my system like it’s on an intravenous drip. My eyes stare widely at the calendar counting once again to prove my counting skills are wrong. Still thirty-five. My heart is ready to explode, yet I’m completely frozen to the spot.
“Come with me, quick.” Oliver pulls me into the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind us. He rips my blouse open and unlatches my bra.
“This is hardly the moment to have sex, the kids—”
“You’re pregnant.”
“You’re trying to have sex with me.”
“I know your body with my eyes closed. The swell of your breasts.” He turns me around to face the mirror. They’re engorged. I hadn’t even noticed. “Baby, you’re expecting.”
“I’m pregnant…”
“Do you know what this means?” The surge of happiness consumes him as he turns me back around, his eyes shining with hope.
“No more sleep?”
I button my blouse on the verge of tears. I think I have it together until a lonesome one escapes, and the flood gates officially open.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because two under two? I can’t do this.”
“There’s no I in team, Gabs. You don’t have to do anything alone. That’s why I’m here. Our best friends are next door. That’s why Ma and Pa come stay with us, and why Miles and the twins bought that beach house at Laguna Beach. We have the best support network anyone could ask for.”
Olly’s right. We have everything we could possibly ask for. And now, we’re expecting another blessing. I smile through my tears, allowing Olly to open the bathroom door so we can go back to the kids.
“So, what does this mean?”
“Soccer team, Gabs!”
I shake my head, not welcoming the thought. “That’s like what, eleven kids? I don’t think so. You’re getting the snip after this.”
In his arrogant triumph, he narrows his beautiful green eyes with his lip tugged upward into a sinister smirk.
“Never, say never, baby.”
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Oliver vs Pixy
AKA Esmerelda Snowflake
AKA Pixy
AKA Mutton
It’s staring at me.
It smells the fear. The two of us alone, no one else to witness a possible massacre.
Gabriella took CJ and Alexander out for an afternoon walk while I need to make an important phone call.
My business is done. I have officially agreed to a meeting first thing Monday morning where I will sign my multimillion-dollar three-year contract to play for major league soccer here in Los Angeles.
Behind this so-called cute shaggy interior lays a monster, I’m sure of it.
It’s always had a problem with me—like I’ve marked my territory in his domain.
Is it a boy?
Fuck, I can’t remember.
The only thing jogging my memory is the fear this damn goat has instilled in me. I don’t care for fear. I can feel the sweat drench my skin, the thumping of my heart against my chest. My fingers are curled into a fist, nails digging into my palm. I wasn’t ready when Sonny attacked me back when I was a kid, but this time, I am on complete watch.
I quickly dial Gabriella’s number. “How long until you’re back home?”
“Oh, hello to you, too,” she teases, the sound of wind muffling her voice. “I don’t know, like fifteen minutes?”
“Okay, no longer than that.” I hang up the phone but keep it close by just in case.
It’s watching me, I think.
It’s slit-shaped pupils make it hard to figure out exactly where the lil’ bugger is staring. It has to be me, I’m the only person in the house and in this room.
This is it, Olly, get over your fear, move on. You’re a big boy, not a kid. You’re a grown man with a fiancée, son, and another baby on the way. You’re going to play major league soccer in the United States.
You can do this.
“Listen,” I command, staring at Pixy contently. “You don’t like me, I get it. And if we’re being honest, I’m not that fond of you.”
He’s perfectly still as if he’s listening to my threat and planning his attack.
“We have a lot of mutual people in common. A lot of people who love us both, so I propose some sort of truce. When I’m in the room, how about you’re outside. And when I’m training or at a game, please feel free to roam around the house. How does that sound?”
I hold my breath waiting for some sort of charging attack until it freezes, tipping over onto its side.
Holy fuck, I’ve killed it!
In a panic, I scramble for my phone until it ge
ts back on all fours, let’s out a loud “Baaa,” then strolls out of the room.
My heart has fallen into my stomach, then I remember Aubrey explaining Pixy to me on the first day I arrived at Hermosa Beach…
“Pixy has congenital myotonic symptoms.”
“I thought Chance said its name is Mutton?”
Aubrey shoots Chance an annoyed look. “So, anyway, Pixy’s variety is commonly known as a ‘fainting goat.’ It’s a genetic disorder. They faint when they get nervous. All the muscles in their body freeze up, and they tip over. Only lasts about ten seconds, then he goes about doing his business.”
“Excuse me?” I laugh. This was ludicrous. “The goat faints?”
“Yes,” Aubrey confirmed. “Now, let me show you to your room. And just a word of warning, Pixy likes this room, so you might want to become friends.”
The fainting goat. Alone in the lounge room, I break out into hysterics. Me—Mr. Arrogant Aussie—afraid of a fainting goat.
Gabriella walks in, pushing the pram with Alexander fast asleep.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, placing her keys down and eyeing me dubiously.
“Oh nothing,” I chuff, grabbing the remote. “It’s between me and Pixy.”
“Oh God, I forgot I left you with him. Is that why you called me, panicked?”
I shake my head, unable to control the bursts of laughter. “I think we should get one.”
“What? A goat? Have you lost your mind? We have a baby and another one on the way. Plus, the last time I checked, you’re terrified of them.”
“Yeah,” I grin, shaking my head with amusement. “But sometimes people change.”
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BLURB
He was that boy in the playground.
The one who pulled your pigtails.
The one who lifted your dress in front of the entire school.
Now he’s that guy in the office.
The one who steals your lunch from the fridge.
