Sweet Spot for Victoria (Men of Baseball Book 4)

by Faiman, Hayley

  “You’re pregnant too, Victoria, I couldn’t,” she says, ignoring my little speech.

  “You can and you will. I’m pregnant, but I’m not sick, Maggie. Tell Jackson to bring her over or I’ll just load everybody up in my brand new suburban and pick her up,” I grin.

  I will use any excuse to drive my monster of an SUV. It’s really too big for the city, but everybody gets the hell out of my way. It kind of makes me feel like a badass mama.

  “Jackson will bring her over,” Maggie mutters.

  I can tell it’s killing her to rely on me, but she needs the rest and I want to give it to her while I can.

  “Have you talked to Jackson’s family?” I ask carefully.

  Jackson’s family isn’t a topic we broach often. Maggie doesn’t like to talk about them much. His father is kind of an asshole and his mother lets him rule with an iron fist. His brother is a complete no-go topic of conversation.

  “His mother snuck in a phone call when Quinn turned one. His father thinks I’m the she-devil. Apparently, even though his stats are better than ever, I’m too big of a weakness for him.” She shrugs, but I can see the hurt behind her eyes.

  It bothers her that she has finally found a good man and his family isn’t supportive, especially since she doesn’t have family of her own.

  “They’ll come around or they can fuck themselves,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. I smile when I hear the lyrical giggle that comes out of her.

  “Love you, Vic,” she murmurs.

  “Love you too, bitch,” I say, bumping her hip with mine.

  I walk behind Victoria and Maggie, watching them. Victoria’s arm is wrapped around Maggie’s shoulder and she’s just bumped hips with her. I can practically see the bright orb that glows around them. Two of my best friends, pregnant together and so happy it would make any other person sick. It doesn’t affect me at all, except to make a smile creep up on my lips because I am just as happy as they are.

  I would have never thought that my life would be so beautiful. A godlike husband, two beautiful babies, my brother back in my life, and a whole family of marriage and friends.

  Years ago, when I was hiding from my ex-boyfriend and trying to move past the hurts he inflicted on my psyche, I never imagined I would have a life so beautiful waiting for me.

  “Amalie, get your ass up here,” Victoria hollers.

  I take a few long strides to catch up to them. I slide up beside Maggie and grab her hand with mine.

  “The men will want to celebrate this victory with food and beer,” I say. Maggie groans.

  “I ordered food to be delivered to the townhouse. The kids can run around and play without having to be quiet in a restaurant,” Victoria announces. If I didn’t already love this woman, I certainly would now.

  We wait for our men to come filing out of the locker room. I am holding Axel’s hand and have Clara on my hip. My eyes are focused on the men and my heart skips a beat as my eyes catch my husband’s gigantic form coming toward us. He grins and I swear my panties melt away right then and there.

  “Hey, baby,” he murmurs brushing a kiss against my neck.

  “Hi,” I breathe.

  I still get butterflies every single time I look at him.

  It’s ridiculous.

  “We’re going to Los and Vic’s for lunch,” I announce as we load the kids up in the car.

  “You know that prick still has pictures of you taped up in his locker like he’s in fuckin’ high school?” Jarrod asks, his face turning a bright shade of pink, borderline red.

  “He does it just to goad you,” I say, fastening my seatbelt.

  “Yeah, I fuckin’ know, but it fuckin’ works,” he grumbles.

  “Can you possibly say the f-word a few more times, I don’t think Axel has fully grasped the pronunciation yet,” I say.

  Jarrod turns to look at me before he bursts out in a laugh.

  “He’s a boy, smuk,” Jarrod says with a shrug.

  I turn to look at him to see if his brain has been cut out of his head. He has clearly lost his damn mind.

  “He’s a little boy, Jarrod, he doesn’t need to use vocabulary like a sailor quite yet,” I explain. He shrugs as if I am the crazy one.

  “He’ll be fine. You worry too much,” he mutters. I look up to the ceiling of the car, praying for patience. I obviously need it when dealing with this man.

  We are the last to arrive at Carlos and Victoria’s, so the men are already out on the deck, drinking beer and supervising the children. I hand Clara to Jarrod and shoo him off to enjoy the other kids and men.

  “You okay?” Victoria asks with a smirk.

  “That man,” I growl, flopping down on their comfortable as shit sofa.

  “Those men,” Victoria laughs.

  “No shit,” Maggie mumbles. We all turn and laugh with each other.

  “I miss Libby,” Maggie says softly.

  I nod. Libby is the best.

  She’s the sweetest and the loudest and she loves the hardest.

  “They’ll be here when the Sox play us,” Victoria says with a nod.

  “It’s not the same,” Maggie shrugs.

  “How’s your brother doing?” Victoria asks as she stands to start getting all of the plates and silverware ready for our late lunch, early dinner.

  I inhale deeply before exhaling. Niklas, my brother, is a topic of crazy proportions these days. Jarrod and I have been going round and round about him these past few weeks.

  “He’s got some weird thing going on with a girl he knew from Florida,” I explain.

  “Like?” Victoria pushes with a grin.

  The woman loves gossip like no other.

  “I don’t know the specifics, but it seems like she’s running from something and ran straight to Niklas. I think it’s an ex or something. He’s going above and beyond what he needs to do to protect her. I think he’s trying to do right by her to try and make up for not protecting me like he should have years ago,” I say, taking a sip from the water Victoria passed to me just minutes ago.

  “Damn—is she nice or is she crazy?” Vic asks. I mull over the thought of Tansy.

  “Tansy seems… nice,” I say. Her name annoys the shit out of me, though.

  Tansy.

  Who the hell names their baby Tansy?

  “Tansy?” Victoria bursts out in question.

  “She says it’s some kind of flower, do not ask me what the fuck it’s about,” I say, throwing my hands up.

  “Sounds like a stripper name,” Maggie mumbles.

  We all laugh; it totally does sound like a stripper name.

  “I don’t think she could strip. She’s about the shyest person I have ever met,” I say with a shrug. “She’s got the personality of a fence post.”

  I feel bitchy for talking shit about this girl my brother is so enamored with. I think I might be a tad jealous that he is willing to help and save her but he wasn’t willing with me. The circumstances are different, of course, but I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to make up for the fact that he wasn’t there for me by helping another damsel in distress.

  It’s pretty obvious.

  “If she’s been abused, then she’s probably just scared,” Maggie suggests.

  I agree. Not every woman is as determined and strong as I am. I had my moments of depression and weakness, and had I not had the help I searched out on my own, I would probably be a complete disaster.

  “What about Eric?” Victoria asks cautiously.

  “Married to Jo. Disgusting, right? She’s working to pay his court fees, basically. She’s living in some shit-hole apartment to be able to pay for his attorneys and give him spending money in prison,” I admit, shaking my head.

  “That’s fucking insane,” Victoria points out. I agree, immensely.

  “Where’s the food, hermosa?” Carlos barks, sticking his head through the sliding glass door.

  “Any minute, baby,” she murmurs softly.

  He smiles b
efore giving her a wink and then closes the door to return to conversations with the guys outside.

  “Well, you two look good,” Maggie observes.

  “So good,” Victoria admits with a blush.

  I have seen the woman talk about anal until she’s blue in the face and never once has she blushed. She’s so deeply in love with her husband again, it’s adorable.

  We spend the rest of the evening talking, eating, and watching our children play. This family of ours and it’s perfect. It’s crazy, but it’s perfect. When I am with them, the worry and stress over my brother, over my own family, melts away and I watch in awe as the love flows through these couples and their children. Outstandingly beautiful.

  I stretch my shoulders as I warm up. I didn’t get dick for sleep last night and I’m dragging ass today. Victoria mumbled and moaned all night long, clutching her belly. I woke her up a few times and she just said that she had aches and pains, nothing to be concerned about.

  I’m concerned.

  My wife is my life. My morenita. The love of my life. I can’t imagine being without her. I pray that she and the babies are all right.

  “You okay, man?” Jarrod asks, clapping my shoulder.

  “No. Vic wasn’t acting right last night. I think there could be something wrong but she’s keeping her lips shut about it and acting like everything is fine,” I confess. Jarrod’s brows furrow.

  “You get her into the doc?” he asks.

  “Called and made an appointment for after the game. I can’t leave next week without knowing everything is going to be okay while I’m away.” I shrug and Jarrod grins.

  He loves it when we pull one over on our women. Like hiring the housekeeper. Victoria thought it was an option, it wasn’t.

  “Just try to keep your head in the game. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s had two healthy pregnancies,” he says.

  “Yeah, but never twins. I’m out of my realm here,” I admit.

  “If something was really, really, wrong she’d let you know,” Jarrod says before jogging off to warm up himself.

  I close my eyes and try to relax. I take a deep breath in and exhale it out. Calming myself. I need to be calm and relaxed in order to get through this game. My mind drifts to the little tattoo on Victoria’s side.

  Angel from Hell.

  Fuck, if that isn’t my Vic.

  My angel from hell.

  My little spicy, spitfire of a wife.

  I love her.

  She makes my heart swell and my cock ache.

  I won’t make it in this life without her.

  She has to be okay.

  My babies have to be okay.

  I send a prayer up to God to watch over them, to keep them safe until I can get them to the doctor.

  I suck.

  I fucking suck.

  The coach pulls me from the game and I can’t blame him. I would have pulled me in the first inning. I grimace when I sit down and look at the scoreboard. I can’t concentrate and I can’t stop worrying. I grab my phone from my jacket pocket and look at it. No missed calls. I am relieved but still worried about Victoria. I send her a text to try and ease my own fucking mind.

  Me: You ok?

  Victoria: I’m okay. You sucked. What’s wrong?

  I chuckle. Leave it to Vic to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

  Me: Off day.

  I don’t tell her anything else. I don’t want her to feel shitty because I was worried about her. I don’t text her the rest of the game. She’s having her girl time and I want her to enjoy herself. As much as she bitches about the cleat chasers that are up in the stands with her, I know that she has a blast with Amalie and Maggie. It’s their time to let loose a bit and enjoy themselves.

  “Fuck, this game has gone from bad to worse,” Jackson says, flopping down next to me.

  I watch as he starts to strip his gear off and I agree. This game is shit. We’re losing and it fucking blows.

  “Everything okay?” Jackson asks.

  “Something’s off with Vic. She was in pain last night. Kept me up moaning all night long. I made an appointment with her doctor for after the game,” I explain for the second time. All it does is make me feel more anxious.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” he mumbles before his mind goes somewhere else, probably to thoughts of Maggie and her own issues with pregnancy. I have never seen a woman get so fucking sick from being knocked up.

  When the game is over, I shower and change into jeans and a t-shirt before making my way to Victoria. She’s standing next to Amalie with one hand on her belly and the other on her back. I can tell she’s smiling but I can also tell that she is in pain. Her brow is furrowed and she’s gritting her teeth, a sign that all is not right. I slide my hand around her waist and pull her into me before placing a gentle kiss on her temple.

  “Are you meeting us for dinner?” Amalie asks.

  I answer her before Victoria can even think of opening her mouth.

  “No, we have something we have to handle before we pick up the kids,” I say.

  Once we are in the car, Victoria turns to me and opens her mouth, presumably to ask me about our plans. I hold up my hand to stop her.

  “We’re going to the doctor. I don’t want you to give me any fucking shit about it either. You aren’t okay, no matter how many times you tell me that you are,” I announce, watching as she closes her mouth and nods. She then turns her head to look out of the window of the car.

  I feel like a dick for going off on her, but I’m so fucking scared.

  He’s scared.

  I’m scared.

  I didn’t want to admit that something wasn’t right.

  Admitting it means facing it.

  I stare silently out of the car window as we make the drive from Brooklyn to Manhattan. It is the longest, most stressful drive I have ever endured. You can cut the tension with a knife and I don’t know how to fix it.

  It’s unfixable, at least until we know exactly what we are dealing with.

  I am twenty-seven weeks pregnant and although some people have delivered this early, I was hoping to make it to the thirty week mark, minimum. I already know that my babies will be coming by cesarean, since both Rocio and Junior were cesarean babies. At least I know a little of what to expect, hopefully, in the future. I have so many worries and emotions flying through my head.

  The biggest one is fear.

  I’m scared.

  Terrified, actually.

  Twins are adorable when you see them in their little matching outfits, but being pregnant with them and constantly worrying about going into early labor is exhausting.

  Once I walk into the doctor’s office, I spend about fifteen minutes doing all of the normal bullshit. Weighing, peeing in cups, only to hurry up and wait. A nurse comes in with a machine and instructs me to lie back. She said she’s going to do a non-stress test on the babies to monitor their heart rates and activity, to see if they are in distress.

  I lie back and close my eyes once the monitor is in place over my belly. Carlos is playing on his phone, or texting, or updating his twitter, I have no damn clue and I don’t really care. I just want to know why I’ve been in pain. Why my back is killing me and why my stomach feels as though it is contracting when I know damn well it should not be doing so.

  Carlos and I sit in silence for the next hour. We are both lost in our own minds and it is horrible. The doctor walks in when the test is over and looks over at me with something akin to pity in his eyes. It is then that I know something is terribly wrong. I squeeze my eyes tightly and pray for the tears to stay at bay; then I pray for my babies.

  “You’re contracting, I need to check you and see how far you’re dilated,” the doctor says very matter-of-fact.

  “What does this mean?” Carlos asks, taking the words out of my mouth.

  “It means that she could potentially give birth today or it could go on for weeks. We don’t know. If I check her, then I’ll be able t
o tell if she’s dilated or not and we’ll have a better understanding of the situation,” he explains, which relaxes me a fraction.

  I slide my heels into the stirrups and close my eyes tightly. I fucking hate this part. I think this is a million times worse than the clamps they use at my yearly. I grunt and then moan when it feels like he’s shoving his entire fucking fist inside of my pussy.

  “Oh, shit,” he mumbles right before I hear a splash.

  “Victoria, you fucking pissed everywhere,” Carlos yells, jumping up and away from me.

  “She didn’t Carlos, I just broke her water,” the doctor snaps. My heart begins to thump in my chest at an alarming rate.

  My water just broke.

  My water just fucking broke.

  My goddamned water just fucking broke.

  “What does this mean?” I cry out just as a contraction hits me.

  It feels like my stomach is trying to eat itself, it hurts so fucking bad.

  “It means you’re going in for an emergency C-section, immediately,” the doctor barks again, just before he opens the door to begin ordering his nurses around. He tells one to call the hospital and get a room and staff available to check us in.

  “We’re having them today? Can’t you give me a shot to slow this shit down?” I moan when another contraction hits me.

  “No. Get over to the hospital immediately. They’re expecting you. I’ll be right behind you,” my doctor snaps. I know that shit just got real because my doctor doesn’t freak out, ever.

  The next few hours are a blur of Carlos cursing and speeding through traffic, cursing some more on the phone, cursing even more when we finally arrive at the hospital and then cursing to the point of being threatened to have security remove him from the room.

  “Did you call your parents?” I ask once I have been given my IV and we are waiting in the operating room for the doctor.

  “Yeah, they’re going to keep the kids for as long as we need them to. My dad’s waiting by the phone. My mama ran down to church as soon as I called. She’s lighting candles,” Carlos says scrubbing his hand down his face in obvious worry.

  “My parents?” I ask on a moan. The pain, it hurts so fucking bad.