I think Elena is the only one who doesn’t want to believe it. She said something about hearsay not being admissible, but Evan just shrugged and said, “This isn’t a court. There’s no judge here. I’m just saying, it makes sense.”
We all looked at Coach Hanson, then, as he was making the rounds. He smiled and waved, and the guys all forced smiles and waved back.
At long last, the last boring old white guy finishes blabbing about integrity and hard work and whatever other hypocritical nonsense he’s been spewing, shakes Coach Hanson’s hand, and Coach Hanson himself steps up to the microphone. My sigh of relief is almost too loud in the relative silence.
But fortunately, Coach clears his throat at the same time and covers my faux pas. “Thank you all for coming,” he says. “I won’t drag this out for too much longer.”
I have to fight back the, “Thank god!” that wants to come out, but I manage to hold it in.
Chris reaches over and threads his fingers through mine, giving them a squeeze. When I look at him, his hazel eyes are dancing with mirth.
“Did I accidentally say that out loud?” I whisper.
He nods. “Very quietly, but yes.”
I start giggling, and so does Chris. Layla gives me a quizzical look, a smile fighting for dominance on her face, and pretty soon she’s giggling too. It spreads around our table like some kind of virus, and pretty soon we’re all shaking with suppressed laughter, only able to release it when Coach Hanson says one last thank you and steps away from the mic. When everyone bursts into applause, we can all giggle freely as we clap, and we finally manage to control ourselves by the time the applause dies down.
“What’s so funny?” whispers Abby, leaning across the table to me.
Still smiling, I shake my head. “I’ll tell you later.”
“I wanna go talk to Coach for a minute,” says Chris, and I give him a nod. The other guys, all former teammates, follow him, leaving us girls alone at the table.
Abby stands from her seat and slips into the seat next to mine. “Have you told him yet?” she whispers into my ear.
“I haven’t had time,” I answer, keeping my voice low, but Layla, Elena, and Hannah have moved next to each other and are discussing something else, so I’m not too worried about them overhearing. Plus, they’ll all find out soon enough, anyway. Because once I tell Chris, I know he won’t be able to keep the news to himself.
Thankfully, the guys return after only a few minutes, all looking like lost little boys. Abby stands and goes to Lance, while Chris slips into her vacated seat. I stand and gesture for him to scoot back from the table so I can settle in his lap.
He sighs, a sound equal parts sadness and relief, as his arms wrap around me and pull me close. I examine him while his attention is elsewhere, his gaze abstract and pointed somewhere off to his right, the muscles in his jaw tightening and relaxing rhythmically.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, just loud enough to be heard.
His hazel eyes find mine, and he sighs again. “Yeah. It’s just …” He looks around the room again before refocusing on me. “Coach confirmed what Evan said. He put a good face on it, smiled and said it was time, he’d had a good run, he was looking forward to spending time with his new granddaughter and fishing more instead of hanging out in a smelly locker room full of arrogant jocks. We all laughed and joked about how great retirement will be. But he’s a damn good coach. The best. He cares about his players and gets the best out of them. He built this program basically from nothing, has taken it through one division change years ago and built it up to be ready to make another hop to Division I, and now they’re shitcanning him? It’s not right.”
Cupping his cheeks in my hands, I hold his face still and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Should we go?” I ask quietly.
He leans forward and kisses me again before nodding and letting me go so I can stand. “Yeah. I need a few minutes to settle down, then we’ll head to Lance’s. I’ll let him know we’ll catch up to everyone there.”
I gather my purse while he leans in and tells Lance our plan, and my stomach flip flops. This is my chance.
No, granted, this might not be the ideal time, since he’s upset about Coach Hanson’s retirement, but I’ve been waiting for the ideal time for days. Maybe this news will cheer him up.
Yeah. That’s how I’ll frame it. I know you’re sad about Coach Hanson and worried about your shoulder, but I have some good news that might make you feel better, or at least distract you from the other stuff. We’re having a baby.
And then he’ll hug me and kiss my belly and cry happy tears of joy. That’s what happens in all the best stories, right?
But looking at his despondent face, I somehow doubt that’ll be exactly what happens.
I give him my best hopeful smile as he tangles his fingers with mine and leads me out of the conference room. We collect our coats from the coat check in the hall, and he holds mine for me to slip into, puts on his own, then we head for the door, hand-in-hand.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he murmurs once we’re outside, our breath puffing in clouds over our heads. He glances at me, his brows knitted together as he looks me up and down. “I know you’re not really dressed for a walk. Hell, I’m not either. But I need to move to process this.”
Nodding, I release his hand, but only so I can thread my arm through his. “Let’s wander around campus a bit. We’ll take the long way back to the car. I haven’t been here in ages. It’ll be a nice walk down memory lane.”
He gives me a grateful smile, and we set off into the night, the skeleton trees reaching their arms up to the cloudy sky, our feet crunching on the ice melt scattered across the walkways. Fortunately I wore ballet flats, so while they’re not the warmest shoes and my toes will be freezing by the time we get to the car, they’re more comfortable for walking around than heels.
We wander in silence for a few minutes, slowly making our way over the brick-paved center mall of campus, past the student center, over toward the athletics complex. Memories flicker through me—bumping into Chris there, going to his football games, hurrying from one class to the next, all the late nights in the tutoring center—and a small smile lifts the corners of my mouth.
Chris glances at me, an answering smile on his face. “What are you thinking about?”
I turn my face to his, the yellow glow from one of lamps illuminating us. “You. Us. When we first were getting together, and how you were all protective of me when Isaac was being an asshole.” He lets out a growl that makes me laugh. “And I see nothing’s changed.”
He pulls me in and settles his hand on my waist, lowering his head to touch his lips to mine. “I’ll always be protective of you.”
“Back atcha,” I tell him, and his grin grows wider.
We stand in our bubble of light, just looking at each other, and slowly the smile on his face dims, and he examines my face, his eyes narrowing. “I feel like things with you have been a little off since we got here. Is everything all right? Did something happen before I got here that you didn’t tell me about? Or back at home before you left?”
I suck in a sharp breath. Of course Chris noticed I’ve been distracted and quieter than normal.
“What’s wrong?” he demands. “Tell me.”
Squeezing his arm, I shake my head and muster up my best smile. Because as much as I’m excited about the possibilities of having a baby with him, some part of me is still worried. And afraid. And ashamed. It’s stupid, the shame, but it’s the legacy of growing up in the fundamentalist cult I escaped from. Having a baby and not being married is a sin, according to them. And even though I don’t believe any of that nonsense anymore, I still wish I could tell my parents and have them be happy for me. And excited to meet their grandchild.
And since I know telling them will only be met with judgment and condemnation, it’s so much more important to me that Chris be happy too. I really, really, really want the excitement and the belly kiss and the tears in his eyes and the dreaming about al
l the things we’ll do once the baby’s here. I didn’t even realize how much I desperately need that from him until right this moment. And even though he’s done nothing to make me think he’d be anything other than supportive at a bare minimum, way deep down inside, the scared little girl part of me that always felt judged and alone is worried he’ll be mad. Or upset. Or … not happy.
“Megan.” He jostles me to get my attention. “You’re starting to worry me now. Please just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it, okay?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Chris. It’s good news.” I smile up at him, unable to help the dramatic pause so I can swallow down all my fears and believe in all the good in our relationship. “I’m pregnant.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Chris
“I’m pregnant.” I blink at my girlfriend as the words echo in my head, bouncing around until they fracture apart, meaningless, and put themselves back together again.
“Chris?” she asks, her voice tentative, uncertain.
I gasp, pulling her in and wrapping her in a giant hug, picking her up off the ground. Then I put her back down in a hurry, but not so fast I drop her, because … “You’re pregnant? We’re having a baby?” I hope I didn’t hurt her or squeeze her too hard.
Now she’s laughing, and tears glitter on her lower lids as she nods, still hanging onto my arms. “Yes.” A tear slides down her cheek. “I’m pregnant. I found out a few days ago, but you’ve been so distracted and busy, and I didn’t want to tell you on the phone.” She’s talking so fast her words are running into each other, but I’m well versed in Megan spilling out all the information she’s been holding onto, so I’m keeping up just fine. “And then you were so tired when you got here, and then we had the Christmas party, and then you had to get your speech together, and I didn’t know if you’d be happy or upset, and I didn’t want to stress you out more than you already were—”
I cut her off with a fierce kiss. “You didn’t know if I’d be happy?”
She lifts one shoulder in a shrug.
“Babe,” I say softly. “Megan. I love you. I love everything about you. Of course I’m happy to have a kid with you.”
Her shoulders slump, and she lets out her breath in a whoosh. “It’s just … it wasn’t planned. And I was on birth control. And …”
She trails off as I shake my head, dismissing all of those concerns. “I’m happy,” I tell her. “I promise.”
Those seem to be the right words, because her smile firms and widens. “Yeah? Me too.”
Unable to help myself, I pull her in for another hug, picking her up and spinning her around as she laughs. When I set her back on her feet, I kiss her, this time slow and deep, pouring all my emotions into the kiss. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t planned. But our kid is going to be the coolest. With a pro ball player as a dad and an artist as a mom, how could it not be?
Ending the kiss, I pull her arm through mine again and point us in the direction of the car. “Come on. You’re pregnant, so we gotta get you out of the cold.”
She laughs at that statement. “I’m pregnant, not fragile. If I get too cold, I’ll let you know.”
I shrug. “Still. Plus, we have an afterparty to get to. And now we need to stop somewhere and pick up champagne”—I glance at her—“and sparkling cider for you before we get to Lance’s. We need to celebrate.”
She lets me open her door for her when we get to the car, looking up at me before I close it, a hint of doubt once again shadowing her features. “You’re really happy about this? For real?”
Bending, I kiss her. “For real,” I reassure her, my face inches from hers as I look deep into her eyes, hoping that will broadcast my sincerity. “My parents will be thrilled they’re going to be grandparents, too.” Her face falls, and that’s when things click into place. I suck in a deep breath. “But your parents won’t be.” She shakes her head, her lips forming the word no, but no sound coming out.
Sometimes I forget that she still wishes her parents would come around. After that fateful Thanksgiving when I showed up at their house and her dad demanded that she move back home and we walked out together, I dismissed them entirely. Even if we got married yesterday, they’d never approve of me, of our relationship, of Megan. She’s not the weak, abused little girl they want her to be. She’s a fiercely strong woman who’s fought to overcome so much of the damage they tried to inflict on her. But this wound still runs deep, and even though she hides it most of the time, in situations like this, it becomes more obvious.
I crouch down and wrap my arms around her. “This baby will be loved,” I whisper. “So loved. And we will make sure that he or she can be whoever and whatever they want. And they will know they’re loved no matter what.”
She nods against my shoulder, her tears dampening my neck.
“I love you,” I tell her. “You are also loved, no matter what. I will always be here for you and for our baby, and my parents will too. Whatever you want, whatever you need, we’ve got you.”
She pulls back and looks me in the face. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I really needed to hear that.”
I tuck a curl behind her ear. “I will tell you that as often as you need, okay? I meant it before when I said that we’d handle whatever. We’ll handle this too. When we get back home, I’ll give Sanderson a call. His wife just had a baby. They can give us tips on the best doctors in the area, and we can start making a plan. This is good news. And now we need to go tell all our friends so they can celebrate with us.”
She smiles and wipes her cheeks, running her ring fingers under her eyelids. “You’re right. It is good news. A doctor recommendation would be nice, because I feel so lost, and I don’t have any friends with babies to ask for help.” She settles her hands in her lap and looks at me with affection clear on her face. “I love you. I’m glad you’re happy.”
I give her one last brief kiss. “Of course I’m happy. I have you. Everything else is just gravy.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Matt
Chris and Megan don’t arrive until about twenty minutes after the rest of us, and when they do, Chris bursts through the door holding a champagne bottle aloft. “It’s time to celebrate!” he declares.
Everyone just kind of stares at him for a beat, then Megan giggles and steps under his raised arm, her face flushed and smiling. “I’m pregnant,” she announces clearly into the silence. “I just told Chris, and as you can see, he’s a little excited.”
A beat of silence greets her announcement, and then the room erupts in gasps and congratulations. Abby makes a beeline for Megan and gives her a big hug, and Lance steps up to slap Chris on the shoulder.
Chris is all smiles as he accepts Lance’s congratulations and then turns to me when I approach, hand extended. “Congrats, man. That’s awesome. I’m happy for you guys.”
“Thanks, man.” Chris pumps my hand a few times and hands off the champagne bottle to Lance, who leads the way to the kitchen. I trail behind them, watching from the doorway as Lance pulls down a variety of glasses—a couple of champagne flutes and the rest regular drinking glasses.
“Here.” Chris sets down another green glass bottle on the counter. “This one’s for Megan. Or anyone who just doesn’t want champagne.”
“Nice,” Lance says as he proceeds to open the champagne.
Abby puts a hand on my shoulder and scootches past me with a smile, quickly stepping close to Lance and picking up one of the champagne glasses just as he’s about to pull the cork. “Here, let me,” she says, positioning the glass under the neck of the bottle and expertly catching the bubbles that cascade out.
Lance tilts his head toward Chris. “That’s for him. Megan’s getting the other flute with sparkling cider. Then we’ll use the other glasses for the rest of us.”
“Then we’ll have a toast,” I say as Abby hands Chris the glass.
I help pass around the champagne and sparkling cider and stand in the middle of the room, my glass held aloft. “To Chris and
Megan and their new baby.”
Echoes of, “To Chris and Megan,” and, “Cheers!” ring out as we all sip our drinks, then everyone settles back into conversations, taking turns flocking around the lucky couple.
I stand off to the side and watch, content to let the conversation flow around me at this point, honestly kinda shocked by the fact that they’re the first ones to get pregnant.
Not that I think they’ll be bad parents. On the contrary, I’m sure they’ll be great. I just never really pictured Chris as a dad. I guess some part of me still sees him as the playboy, almost-college-dropout that he was when we lived together, even though he pulled up his grades and graduated and has been with Megan for years.
My money was on Abby, personally. They’re the only ones of us who’ve actually tied the knot, after all. They’re both out of school, Lance has a stable job with good benefits, and Abby freelances. Though for what I’m hoping for, it’s good that it’s not Lance and Abby. No way would he leave his job if she were pregnant.
Mostly it’s just a shock that any one of us is having a kid in the foreseeable future. It’s bonkers. I still feel like the same twenty year old I was when we moved into this house. But I’m not. I have a degree, a long-term girlfriend who lives with me, my own business …
Speaking of business, I turn and see Lance heading for my spot holding up the wall. He lifts his chin in a gesture of greeting. “Crazy, isn’t it?” he says.
I nod. “I was just thinking the exact same thing.”
“Good for them, though. They both seem excited about it, even if it wasn’t planned.”
That revelation has me turning to face him directly. “I wondered about that.”
Lance shrugs, once again looking over our group of friends scattered around his living room, jackets and ties discarded, shoes off, relaxed and happy. “Things happen, y’know? It’s good, though. They’ll be fine, and that kid will be spoiled rotten.”
A Very Marycliff Christmas Page 8
