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

by Ava Miles

  “What’s your deal, Dean?” he asked. “You’re worse than a bump on a log.”

  Sam gave him a look as if to say, Might as well tell them.

  He downed the last of his drink and set the glass down with a clack. “I got Grace pregnant.”

  Zack and Hunter stopped roughhousing immediately. Blake turned to look at him, and he met the man’s gaze. The rest of the guys were soon sitting down around him, all business.

  “Tell them what you told me,” Sam said.

  So he did. The guys mostly had shocked looks on their faces.

  “Are you completely sure it’s yours, man?” Zack asked when he’d finished.

  Jordan leaped up and was in his friend’s face in seconds. “We’re talking about Grace here,” he snarled. “Not one of your Vegas showgirls.”

  Sam and Blake pulled them apart, and Jordan huffed back to his seat.

  “I’m sorry, Jordan,” Zack said. Judging from his tone, he meant it. “You broke up months ago. I had to ask.”

  He bit his lip to keep from shooting his mouth off.

  “I like Sam’s idea of giving her the dream house you had built for her,” Blake said when the silence in the room became overwhelming.

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked, feeling way too exposed for comfort. “Sure, moving in next to Natalie worked for you, but not everything has an easy solution, man.” He was doubting the wisdom of his plan more and more since talking with Sam. Grace was going to see the house as another stalling tactic on his part, which it was.

  “Jordan,” Blake said, staring him down. “I feel for you. But don’t push it. Besides, I had less of a chance of winning Natalie back than you do with Grace.”

  “That’s the God’s honest truth,” Logan said. “Grace is a sweetheart, but Natalie…”

  Blake turned his gaze on the wide receiver.

  “Come on, man,” Logan said, not backing down. “Your wife is awesome, but she can be pretty scary sometimes.”

  “That’s the way I like her,” Blake said, “but we’re getting off point. If you love Grace, you need to fight for her. You find out why things fell apart and you fix it. Do you hear me, Dean?”

  Romancing the woman who was carrying his child? “I hear you.”

  “You don’t believe you can do it,” Grant said, slapping his forehead. “I can hear it in your voice. Coach would bust your nuts for that wishy-washy response.”

  “Grace isn’t a football play,” he said, but even he could hear the wimp factor in his voice. “What if I mess it up more? This isn’t just about me and Grace anymore. We’re having a kid. Man, I just saw stars like I got my bell rung.”

  “Put your head between your knees then, Dean,” Brody said, demonstrating the move. Sure enough, it helped. After a few moments of holding his head like that, the dizziness passed.

  “You’ll figure it out,” Blake said as Jordan leaned back against the couch. “Just don’t wait too long to get your head out of your ass.”

  Was his head up his ass? It chafed to hear his buddy say so, but he knew one thing for sure. Despite winning the Super Bowl, his lifelong dream, he didn’t feel quite right. A part of him had been hollow since his breakup with Grace, and he wasn’t sure it would ever be whole again unless he got her back.

  “You should tell Grace you built her dream house because you wanted her to be happy—in Atlanta where you both have careers,” Zack suggested. “That’s pretty romantic, if you ask me.”

  Would she see it that way? He had to find out. “I might need some help,” Jordan said. “You guys love me. Maybe…” No, no one could put in a good word for him with Grace. Not even Natalie, with whom she’d been friendly. He had to win her back on his own.

  “If you need help, you ask,” Sam said in a definitive tone. “Now, let’s leave Jordan to his thoughts for a while.”

  Grant reached over and shook him playfully. “We’re here for you, man.”

  “Thanks,” he said, burrowing deeper into the couch.

  “All right,” Sam said, rising and going to the center of the room. “Who wants to hear what I’ve cooked up for the Smuck competition?”

  “Me!” Brody called out while others shot their hands in the air.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask,” Blake said with a playful shudder.

  “Only because you won—or should I say lost—last time,” Logan said, grinning. “I have fond memories of Zeus the boa constrictor, not to mention you screaming like a girl.”

  Blake walked over and got in his face. “I never scream like a girl.”

  “Do you want to hear or don’t you?” Sam asked.

  They all shut up and nodded. None of them could deny Sam for long.

  “Your goal is to pick out as many marbles as you can in under a minute,” Sam said. “The one who picks out the fewest has to wear the rainbow tutu. Mom made it, by the way, so no cracking jokes about it around her.”

  There was a catch. There was always a catch.

  “And?” Grant asked for all of them.

  “The box holding the marbles is filled with crickets,” Sam said with a grin.

  “Shit!” Brody said, shuddering. “I hate bugs, but especially ones that jump.”

  “Me too,” Zack said. “You need to have your head examined, Sam.”

  Their host gave him a mischievous smile. “You forget. My dad used to play for the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Anyone know what they were called before that?”

  Everyone looked at each other.

  “The Cricket Busters?” Zack asked, throwing his hands up in the air. “Oh, please put us out of our misery.”

  “The Bug Eaters,” Sam said. “I won’t be wearing that tutu. I’ve got strong blood running through these veins.”

  But Jordan didn’t. Either that or his concentration was shot.

  He ended up wearing the rainbow tutu.

  Chapter 4

  The day Jordan returned from vacation, he headed to Marcellos to see Grace. His time away had helped him decide on a plan of action. He only hoped Grace would listen.

  In the past few days, he’d ordered all the most highly recommended pregnancy, fatherhood, and baby books. He was in full-on preparation mode, but it chilled him to the bone how much the books couldn’t tell him. How was he supposed to take care of a kid? How was he supposed to know what to do when it cried or asked him the big life questions? He was so going to screw things up.

  When he pulled his Maserati to a halt at Marcellos’ valet stand, he eyed the young man barreling toward him with a ferocious scowl instead of his usual smile.

  “Hey, Johnny, how’s it going?” The kid hailed from Florence and was in his third year at Georgia Tech’s mechanical engineering program. He worked two jobs to pay for school. Jordan had always tipped him well.

  The boy ripped the valet card off, nearly tearing it in half. “Fine, Mr. Dean. I’ll try not to dent your ride.”

  Jordan winced. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a dent in his car when he reclaimed it. Johnny adored Grace. Hell, everyone at the restaurant did. And given that the vast majority of the wait staff was either Italian or Italian-American, they protected her like a sister in the old neighborhood. He couldn’t imagine they’d be happy with him—even if Grace had mostly initiated their breakup. They were blindly loyal that way.

  After struggling with the best way to approach Grace about the house, he’d finally texted her and asked to meet so they could chat. Jordan had suggested Marcellos after her lunch shift. They’d be on her turf, which would give her an added sense of protection. And when he left, there’d be plenty of people around to support her. He’d read some scary articles about the effects of stress on a pregnant mother, and he wanted to minimize it at all costs. Grace already looked fragile enough.

  Walking through the elegant glass doors of the restaurant, he headed toward the back. The smell of rosemary, lemon, garlic, and basil mixed with roasted meat hung in the air. On other days, it would have made him hungry. Today, it made him feel more nauseat
ed.

  Adriana, the sultry, black-haired hostess, saw him coming and muttered something biting in Italian, making a rude gesture with her hand.

  “Hello, Adriana,” he said warmly. “I’m here to see Grace.”

  “Testa di cazzo,” she replied.

  “Yes, I’m an asshole,” he agreed with her, “but I’m here to make things right.”

  “Imposibile,” she responded. “You’ve been seen with more women than Don Giovanni—and right after you two broke up. You’re a pig!”

  He bit his tongue, deciding it would be futile to try and explain. Plus, he had other problems. He’d been spotted by the only patrons left in the restaurant—an older couple dawdling over an afternoon espresso and a slice of ricotta and golden raisin cheesecake. The last thing he wanted was for Grace to be reminded of his fame.

  He blew past Adriana and continued toward the back of the restaurant to the kitchen.

  Ricardo, another waiter, glared at him and muttered something in Italian. Angelo, the busboy, stopped what he was doing the moment he saw Jordan. He flew back to the double doors of the kitchen. Jordan knew he was warning Grace.

  God, he’d hoped things wouldn’t be so dramatic.

  Before he could follow Angelo into the kitchen, Tony came through the doors.

  Jordan didn’t bother trying to go around him. He knew the man would tell it to him straight. Tony’s honesty and general lack of interest in Jordan’s fame had made him a good friend. Jordan used to swing by the restaurant to pick up Grace after her shift, and he and Tony would have a nightcap more often than not. They’d even been to Italy together a few times.

  “Let’s go to the bar, Jordan.” Tony stretched out a hand to direct him even though Jordan knew where it was.

  Jordan nodded and followed him. Grace would come out when she was ready.

  “I’ve missed the bar,” he said to be amiable…and also because it was true.

  Made of stained glass, it depicted a Tuscan sunset, fields of sunflowers, rows of fat, purplish grapes on old vines, and an olive grove with young children playing amidst the gnarled trees. Tony had commissioned it in Italy, and despite all his traveling, it was still the most unique bar Jordan had ever seen.

  He slipped onto a leather barstool. Tony slid his lean, runner’s frame onto the next stool. He wore a white chef’s apron over a black shirt and jeans. Tony didn’t wear the ugly chef’s pants from the catalogues. Like Jordan, he was a fashion snob and made no apologies about it.

  Jordan nodded at Alfonso, the bartender, who was topping off some lemon-infused grappa. The guy muttered something in Italian before giving Jordan his back.

  “Alfonso, give us some room,” Tony said in English.

  The man scowled, but walked to the end and slipped out of the bar. Tony didn’t offer Jordan a drink. For a man famed for his hospitality, the gesture spoke volumes.

  Jordan decided to bring it out first. “So, everyone’s pretty pissed at me.”

  “An understatement,” Tony snorted, his aquiline nose lifting slightly. “Bodily harm was mentioned when Grace said you were coming today. Victor was more creative. He suggested poisoning by bad mushrooms. Apparently it’s particularly long and painful. I thought that was personally the best of the lot.”

  “I’ll be sure not to order any food today,” he said, half jokingly.

  Tony turned to face him. “Do you have any idea what this is doing to Grace? She is a proud woman. You two break up, and then she discovers she is with child while you’re off gallivanting with a bunch of groupies. You know what the media used to say about her. She is humiliated.”

  Jordan ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Don’t you think I know that? Do you think I wanted this for her? Jesus, Tony. I was trying to get over her and took things too far. I didn’t know about the baby until last week. If I’d known earlier, I would have shut the rest of that down. I’m not a complete asshole.”

  Tony went around the bar and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Jordan’s favorite grappa infused with lemon. It held the makings of a truce.

  After pouring a larger portion for Jordan, Tony slid the glass across the bar. They both downed their drinks. The alcohol and lemon hit Jordan’s tongue, burning all the way down.

  “Grace tells me she will not marry you, although I am glad you were willing to do the right thing. As you said, you’re not a complete asshole, just a misguided one.” Tony poured another round. “I would have poisoned you myself had you not offered. Since Grace is a wise woman, she must have her reasons. She tells me that we cannot all have a traditional family. I know she does not mean it.”

  Jordan did not answer. Staring into his glass, he frowned.

  Tony traced the bar’s wooden grooves after setting his glass aside. “She was planning on moving to Rome temporarily. After you broke up, Piero Ferantini from La Timora in Rome and Grace were going to exchange places for three months. We’ve been talking about a swap for a while now, but no one thought Grace would be the one to leave. When you broke up, she asked me to send her, and days before she left, she told me she was pregnant.”

  The emotion in Tony’s voice gave Jordan a flavor for how difficult that conversation had been. “She told me about the trip. She’s always loved Rome.”

  “I expressed my concerns since she was pregnant,” Tony said, “but she insisted on going anyway, saying she needed to get away and think.”

  “I’m glad she came back early,” Jordan said, his relief enormous.

  “Although she didn’t say so, I suspect she didn’t want to be in the States during the playoffs, especially since you—and your friends—were already making the news every other day. And no one makes cruel comments to her in Rome.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “She didn’t come back until a few weeks ago.”

  Probably right around the time she made it past her first trimester. Things were starting to make more sense. “She was trying to escape for a while,” Jordan said. “I understand the feeling, but we need to deal with what’s in front of us.”

  “She did good work in Rome, but she did not come back better, Jordan. Maybe she didn’t have enough time. Maybe it’s because she’s started to realize that her life will be different with a baby.”

  Jordan felt sweat bead at his temple. “Yes, it will be. For both of us.”

  Tony slapped him on the back. “She is not taking care of herself. Her morning sickness has been fierce. Working in a restaurant did not help. She could barely keep anything down. The sight of food caused her much upset.” Tony looked back toward the kitchen.

  “I’ve read about the side effects of pregnancy, but I…don’t get it,” Jordan said, feeling like an idiot.

  “She does not want to eat! I can barely coax her to eat three bites of her favorite sandwich. I thought there was something wrong with the prosciutto and Parmesan when I saw that she had not touched it. But it was fine.” Tony frowned. “We are trying to take care of her. I make her leave early, but she goes home alone, which is not good for her.”

  No, it wasn’t good for either of them to bear such weight alone. The time he’d spent with his Once Upon a Dare brothers had buoyed him up some, but he knew Grace had been burrowing into her work.

  “I make Grace sit and cook as much as possible so she is not on her feet all day,” Tony said. “You do not want to know how that suggestion went over in the beginning.”

  All he could do was nod. Grace had always resisted special treatment, why would this be any different?

  “She does not have that healthy glow that pregnant women are supposed to have, Jordan.”

  “I’ll do something about it, Tony.” Standing up, Jordan set his glass on the counter. “Thanks for the grappa, and thanks for looking out for Grace.”

  Jordan wasn’t willing to wait for Grace to come out any longer. He headed to the kitchen doors. The minute he walked in, everyone paused in their prep work. Grace looked up from smoothing mustard over a piece of beef tenderloin she’d sewn clo
sed with a large needle. A visible tremor ran through her body when she saw him.

  Carlo set aside the ladyfingers he was using for the tiramisu. Victor let his hands rest on the sea bass he’d been slicing open. Roberto ceased deveining plump, gray-and-black-striped tiger shrimp near the industrial sink. He let his blade wink in Jordan’s direction.

  It was quite clear what would happen to him if Grace sent him away. He nodded to the guys, not planning to engage in some macho fest.

  “Hello, Jordan,” Grace said, wiping her hands on her white apron and easing out of the chair Tony had mentioned.

  “Hey, Grace,” he replied, studying her.

  She was pale and drawn, and there was a glob of mustard dotting her middle like she’d been playing paintball.

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said cautiously. “Tony said he’d come get me when he was finished speaking with you.”

  Since Tony hadn’t stopped him, he supposed he and his old friend had made some progress. “I guess the plan changed. He’s still at the bar.”

  That news seemed to settle the rest of the kitchen staff, and Grace nodded and led Jordan to the break room. Cookbooks and magazines lined the shelves on one wall. Posters from Italy graced another. Grace pulled out two sparkling waters from the small mini-fridge beneath the shelves, and they sat at the table in the middle of the room.

  He opened the bottle she gave him, the hiss sounding between them as the carbonation released. Jordan wasn’t sure where to start, so he went with his biggest concern. “How are you feeling?”

  He watched her throat work as she swallowed. The new haircut made her neck seem more vulnerable. It was still a shock to see this new Grace.

  “Fine. I hope you and the guys had fun.” She clenched her hands in her lap.

  Fine? He put his water down, shaking his head. Sometimes straight up the middle was the only way to make the play.

  “We did, but I had trouble relaxing because all I could think about was you…us…the baby. I even won the Smuck award, so I had to parade around D.C. in a rainbow tutu. So, let’s not beat around the bush. I’m not fine, and you’re not fine.”