The Gate to Everything (Once Upon a Dare Book 1)

by Ava Miles

  That news tied Jordan’s stomach in knots. “I see.”

  Grace looked up. “Jordan, you’ve always said I was the wiser one. You have to trust me on this.”

  He met her eyes. “This is new territory, Grace.”

  “I knew you’d think you were doing the right thing by offering to marry me,” she said, her voice hoarse. “You’d never want to be the kind of father that yours was, leaving his family.”

  His walls rose up, made of hard, impenetrable steel. His father had been a cheater and a shark, and his abandonment had left deep scars.

  “You’ll be a great father,” she whispered, her mouth tipping up at the corners. “But not a very good husband for me. I’m sorry to say that, but it’s true. The fame has changed you, and I don’t want to be a part of it.”

  Tears popped into his eyes. Those words were like the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

  “Please don’t be hurt,” she whispered. “You’re wonderful in so many ways. You know that. But your career demands so much of you. It was hard enough before—and we weren’t even living together.”

  He bit his tongue to keep from saying that her career as a chef was equally demanding in terms of passion and hours. But that wasn’t what she was talking about.

  Silence reigned between them. The icemaker emptied in the freezer, the sound like the crashing taking place inside him.

  He couldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re right, dammit.”

  Chapter 2

  Grace felt her heart crumble yet again. Desperate to soften the words she’d uttered, she rubbed the back of his hand. “I don’t know how, but somehow, it will be all right.” Those words had become her mantra after the home pregnancy kit had affirmed that she and Jordan would be tied together forever.

  She stood to make his favorite coffee, eager to keep herself occupied as the reality of the situation settled into his bones. The simple tasks of grinding the beans, measuring the coffee, and filling the brewer with water helped her settle. She stilled when he came up behind her.

  “When did you know, Grace?” he asked softly, and she fought the urge to lean back into him for comfort.

  “I suspected at Christmas, but didn’t have the heart to check. Mom knew something was up.” She’d prayed it was another sinus infection at first, but a part of her had already known. It had seemed like life’s cruel birthday present considering how much she’d been stewing about her biological clock.

  His sigh punctuated the silence between them.

  “I finally took a test on New Year’s when I returned to Atlanta, right before I left for Italy.” Her trip to Italy had been her salvation. No one had recognized her, and she’d enjoyed being a normal person again—especially knowing the hype around Jordan and the Rebels’ Super Bowl win would be insane in Atlanta.

  “You didn’t have to handle it alone.” He put his hands on her shoulders and rested his chin on her head. “I would have been there for you, even with the playoffs. I would have wanted to know.”

  The tears Grace had tried so hard to hold back spilled out of her closed lids. God, she’d missed his touch, but she’d dreaded the comfort she’d take from it.

  “Why’d you really wait until now to tell me?” he asked quietly as the coffee finished brewing.

  She’d never outright told him how much she feared that Farley and all the other jackals were right—that he’d be better off without her. The pictures of Jordan partying with other women that had been splashed all over the Internet and tabloids felt like confirmation that freedom suited him. It had only made the breakup harder, as had the embarrassing knowledge that her family and her colleagues had seen them. A little voice in her head told her this baby—their baby—would hold him back too.

  “You needed to focus on the playoffs,” she said instead, trying to keep her voice even. “This was the last thing you needed to deal with.”

  His sigh warmed her scalp. When she shivered slightly, Jordan ran his hands down her shoulders, warming her. Awareness was alive and well between them. She’d hoped it would be gone. Being pregnant and not being together was going to be hard. So hard.

  Since knowing she was pregnant, every day she’d feared she’d cave and get back together with him. She loved him. But all the fame surrounding him had only mushroomed, and he’d seemed happier without her anyway.

  “The playoffs and the Super Bowl ended early February, Gracie.”

  “I know,” she said, remembering how many times she’d picked up her phone to call him only to put it down. “I didn’t just wait because I wanted to be past the first trimester…there was another reason.”

  He turned her around. “What?”

  “You worked so hard to win the Super Bowl,” she said, feeling comfortable she could share this one. “It was your dream, like me earning a Michelin star. I wanted you to have some time to enjoy it.”

  His face scrunched up, and he turned his head to the side, fighting the emotion radiating out of him. “How do you feel about the baby?”

  There weren’t enough words to describe the seesaw of her emotions. “More than a little scared, but I’m growing used to the idea and doing my best to be happy about it.”

  He let out a long breath. “And what about Gracie and her needs?”

  She shrugged. “What about her? It is what it is. No use crying over spilled milk.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “This is about more than milk, Grace. It’s a child. Our child.”

  Jordan stepped back to give them space, and she was glad for it. Feeling his hands on her—even in comfort—was too strong a pull toward the past. She knew he was fighting it too.

  “Have you been to the doctor yet?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, I had the first ultrasound yesterday.”

  He looked down, his brow knitted, and she realized he was staring at her belly. His hand darted out to touch it, but he jerked it back. Her legs turned to lead at the thought of him touching her there.

  “I…um…I’m not showing yet,” she said awkwardly.

  Jordan raised her chin so he could look into her eyes. “You should have let me come with you, Grace.”

  She hadn’t been able to face the thought of him accompanying her. It would have been too intimate. But seeing the baby on the ultrasound was the nudge that had finally made her reach out to him. There was a baby growing inside her, their baby, and she couldn’t hide from that reality anymore.

  “Water under the bridge,” she simply said.

  He pursed his lips, clearly unhappy with her answer. “Do they know what…it is yet?” His gaze tracked to her stomach again.

  It was weird, having people stare at her belly. The smell of food had made her violently sick, so while most people waited to share the news until after the first trimester, she hadn’t been able to hide it from her colleagues at the restaurant, either in Atlanta or in Rome.

  “I hope it’s all right, but I want the baby’s gender to be a surprise.” Waiting to learn about the sex was like waiting to unwrap a present under the Christmas tree. “You can ask the doctor if you’d like, but you have to promise not to tell me.”

  Those serious glacier-blue eyes studied her for a long moment before he nodded. “If you want to wait, I’ll wait.”

  For Jordan, it was a compromise. He hated to wait. When they were kids, he always used to shake all of his Christmas presents to guess what was inside. In fact, he still did. While she’d always been a pro at waiting. Hadn’t she been with him for seven years with no sign of marriage? She’d been a fool.

  “I have a picture.” She walked over to the drawer where she kept important papers and drew out what the doctor had given her. “The baby doesn’t look very big now, but my doctor says everything is on course.”

  He took the picture from her with shaking fingers. The black and white photo showed a small form suspended as if in midair. She’d gazed at it a hundred times since yesterday, and it still awed her to see the sma
ll head and the tiny fingers and toes.

  “I need to sit down,” he said, grabbing a chair. “I know you told me, but somehow it seemed unreal until…this. Holy…crap. I really am going to be a father.”

  She was happy he’d corrected his language this time. “I’m so sorry, Jordan. This isn’t…at all like we’d expected, is it?” Visions of them together in that beautiful yellow house in Deadwood flashed and faded.

  “I’m sorry too,” he said hoarsely. “You…you don’t deserve this.”

  She hugged herself so she wouldn’t go to him. “Takes two to tango, as they say. It’s not…ideal…but it is what it is.”

  She poured him freshly brewed coffee as he set the picture of their baby aside as if it were an ancient scroll that could crumble from the slightest force. She made sure their fingers didn’t touch when she handed it to him. After pouring herself more tea, she went back to the table and sat down with him.

  He set the mug aside untouched. “How are you feeling?”

  She gave a dramatic eye roll. “I’ve been as sick as a dog every morning for more than a month now. Just like Mom, it seems. She tells me it will get better.” Grace prayed that was true. Morning sickness sucked.

  “When is the baby due?” he asked haltingly. “August, right?”

  “August 17, they’re saying.” She was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around that date being one that would change her life forever.

  “I want to be there, Grace. For the birth.”

  She met his gaze. On some level, she’d hoped he would want to be there. After all the pictures of him partying, she hadn’t been sure what he’d want. But faced with his request, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it either. Part of her wanted nothing more than to have him urging her on as they welcomed their child together. That image was easy to see. He was a natural coach as a quarterback.

  “I’m not sure, Jordan.” She wet her lips nervously. “We’ll have to see.”

  His jaw clenched, but he didn’t fight with her, for which she was grateful.

  “Okay, we’ll see,” he said after a long pause.

  She looked at the table again, tracing the grain of the wood. This wasn’t how it was supposed to have happened. When she’d imagined this conversation in the past, she’d pictured a celebration. Non-alcohol sparkling wine and fried chicken and mashed potatoes, her favorite meal.

  “What are you going to do about the restaurant?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

  The topic of her career was one that added to her nausea. Pregnancy and motherhood were not easy for female chefs, and Jordan knew it. “The doctor thinks I can work my regular hours up until my thirtieth week. Then, I’ll need to cut back some and stay off my feet more.”

  He didn’t say anything, which made her fidget. They both knew how demanding the work was.

  “Tony thinks he can move me to the lunch shift and let me do more of the prep work, which I can do sitting down. You know Tony. He and the rest of the staff are already making me small dishes to eat, saying it’s good for the bambino.”

  A smile flashed across Jordan’s face. “Tony will always do right by you. I won’t have to worry about you with him around, and that’s a relief, let me tell you.”

  No, Tony and the rest of the kitchen staff’s old-world machismo would ensure she didn’t over-exert herself or lift any heavy industrial cooking pots. Her biggest concern was the adjustments she’d have to make to balance being a single mother with her career.

  He took a deep breath, and she braced herself, knowing what was coming.

  “Don’t get mad, but I have to ask. Do you want to keep working, Grace?”

  “Of course I do. You know how much I love it.” Until learning she was pregnant, all she’d truly had was her career. It hadn’t felt like enough. Now, she would have a career and a family—just not the way she’d ever envisioned it.

  He shifted nervously in his chair, which at other times, she would have found endearing. “I was just checking. Grace, you know anything I have is yours.”

  “That’s all in the past now,” she said, hoping he would drop it.

  Jordan wagged his index finger at her. “No, it’s not! Whether you like it or not, I am this baby’s father. I make millions of dollars each year, and I will support both of you. I won’t have you slaving away like my mother did after my dad left.”

  Their eyes clashed and held. Money had always been a point of contention between them. Grace had not liked the lavishness his lifestyle afforded. She had resented him for buying her designer clothes so she could comfortably socialize with the rich people in his growing circle. “I’m not slaving away, Jordan. I love what I do, and you know I make good money for a chef.”

  The more he’d tried to buy her clothes and make her look more polished, the more she’d feared she wasn’t good enough in his eyes. Worse, she’d worried he would leave her for someone more beautiful and more interested in sharing the hard-partying, heavy-spending, highly publicized lifestyle he seemed to be gravitating toward. Someone who’d encourage him to do more ads, TV spots, maybe Dancing with the Stars one day.

  He reached for his coffee, and she could all but hear him growling his frustration into the mug when he remained silent.

  “Do you want a cookie?” she asked to lessen the tension between them.

  He leaned back in his chair and grabbed one off the island. He took a hearty bite. “No one makes a better chocolate chip cookie than you, Grace. The fact that I can even choke it down at a moment like this speaks to your culinary magic.”

  Grace sat quietly while he ate. She’d needed to make the cookies to release stress, but she’d chosen his favorite in the hopes of creating a fragile peace between them.

  After brushing his mouth with the back of his sleeve, something Grace had watched him do all her life, he rested his elbows on the table again.

  “You’re right, Grace. I don’t know how it’s going to be all right, but somehow it will be.”

  He grabbed her hand, which she squeezed before pulling away. His touch made her want to lean into him.

  “So, if we’re not getting married, what do you want to do?” he asked.

  Details were not her friend right now. All she did was panic in the face of all the decisions ahead. “You need some time to let everything sink in. Are you still going on vacation like you normally do at this time of year?”

  Jordan blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised. They had originally planned to go to Italy after the season was over—their usual trip—but she wasn’t sure what he’d decided after the breakup. Going to Italy by herself had been another way to reclaim one of her passions. She’d first gone there with Tony Marcello eight years ago, back when they’d worked together at Divino in the Big Apple.

  “I’m meeting up with my Once Upon a Dare guys at Sam’s house in D.C. for a few days.”

  The friends he’d made at his childhood football camp were his staunchest allies and supporters—real friends, not panderers—and it warmed her to know he’d be seeing them after hearing this news.

  “Please give everyone my best.”

  “I’ll call you when I get back,” he said. “You’ll call me if you need anything, though, right?”

  She nodded to pacify him, but deep down, she didn’t foresee calling him for anything—at least not right now.

  “My cell will work wherever I am. Any time, okay?”

  Grace couldn’t help but smile at the pushiness in his tone. He knew she wouldn’t call either. “Got it.”

  Jordan rose from the table slowly, looking like he’d been sacked a record number of times during a game.

  “Breaking up was hard, but this… You’re pregnant with my baby, and I can’t even hold you and be happy about it.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, trying to hold herself together. “I know.”

  He gave her one last long glance before walking briskly out of the kitchen. Grace stayed at the table and reached out a shaking finger to touch
the crumbs he’d left on the table. Laying her head on her arms, she wept.

  For all of them.

  Chapter 3

  Jordan hopped an earlier flight from Atlanta to Washington D.C. in the hopes he could catch Sam Garretty alone before their other buddies arrived. Everyone looked up to Sam, the eldest member of their Once Upon a Dare group and the son of the man who’d brought them all together.

  Jordan had first attended Coach Frank Garretty’s reputed Ohio football camp as an eight-year-old. His mother had applied for a scholarship, and he’d shown up pretending to be tough, but quaking on the inside. The Coach’s annual Once Upon a Dare speech—or, rather, challenge—had changed him.

  Playing professional football is not some fairy tale, boys. It’s hard, exhausting work. You’ll be tested in every way a man can be. There are no daisies and buttercups in this game. If you want everything handed to you like some princess, get off my field right now. If you’re going to play football for me or any coach worth his salt, you’re going to have to dare it all. So, here’s my challenge to you punks. I dare you to be more than you ever imagined…

  Jordan had been full of dare—always had been and always would be. And since Coach believed in putting kids of varying ages together to share life lessons and skills, Sam, who was four years older, had been put in the same cabin as Jordan alongside the other six guys in their group. They’d formed a fast friendship that had only grown stronger with each passing year. Now they were all pro football players—an achievement that spoke of Coach’s instincts. Jordan considered the other guys his brothers, especially since he was an only child.

  And after learning the woman whom he loved—and had lost—was carrying his baby, Jordan needed a brother.

  When he arrived at Sam’s home in the early morning, the Virginia horizon was hazy, making the large acreage look like a blurred picture, much like Jordan’s future. He felt the opposing forces of restlessness and depression war inside him. They hadn’t abated since his talk with Grace.