by Ava Miles
Grace nodded because she knew it to be true. “I haven’t told him about my condition yet, Mom. I was afraid of the stress. For the baby. He’s going to blame himself for what happened with the press. I hate this.”
They rested against each other in silence for a while, and Grace was comforted by her mother’s rock-solid presence.
“You look wiped out,” her mom said. “Do you think you can rest now? I’ll talk to Jordan for you. I’m here to help, and Tony’s going to stay a little longer too. You’re not to worry about anything.”
She had secretly hoped her mom would offer to talk to Jordan, and she’d tried not to feel guilty about that as well. “Tell Jordan, I’m sorry…and that I’ll call him when I can.”
The baby’s safety had to come first. She knew he would understand.
Chapter 9
Jordan was close to leaving the stadium after a pre-season afternoon practice, and honestly, he couldn’t wait to get home. The press had been hounding him, and his easy-going demeanor was shot. Grace had responded only briefly to his texts. He could feel her pulling away from him, and that one moment from their shopping trip kept playing over again in his mind. They’d been so close to giving it a second try. He knew it. A part of him was depressed by it all, and since the media was everywhere these days, he basically went to practice and then back to his apartment. He didn’t like how caged in it made him feel. Not one bit.
For the first time since he’d become famous, he understood Grace’s feelings about the invasion of her personal privacy. The media was keeping him from doing what he wanted, from what he needed to do. That couldn’t continue.
His phone rang as he was changing, and when he noticed Grace was finally calling, he hurried out of the locker room without a shirt on to take the call in a more private setting.
“Hey!” he said, pitching his voice low. “How are you? I’ve been worried.”
“Jordan, it’s Meg.”
“Meg?” Then it sunk in. “Something happened. What happened?” He pressed a hand to his forehead as tension shot through it.
“Grace is okay, but she needs to be in bed for a while with the baby. I came to stay with her.”
Oh, God, no. Not this. “Are they all right? Dammit, Meg, when did this happen? Why didn’t Grace call me?”
“I’ll explain more when I see you.”
Meg’s familiar voice had soothed his hurts when he was a boy and cheered him on in his football games in more recent years. Now it was slightly stilted, and it was yet another slash to his aching heart. “I’m finishing up now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He strode back to the locker room.
“Jordan, I think it’s better if I meet you at your place. I’ll leave here shortly. Tony is going to stay with Grace.”
“What? Why can’t I come over? I want to see Grace.” I need to see her. And the baby. If Grace was resting with the baby, it meant there was trouble. Had she almost miscarried from stress? He doubled over and had to fight to breathe. This was all his fault.
“Jordan, she’s resting. And she needs it. I’ll explain the particulars when we talk.”
Shoving his own issues aside, Jordan took a moment before responding. “Okay, I’ll be home shortly. I can text you the address or send a car for you. Whatever you’d like.”
He wouldn’t ask if there were reporters still camped out at Grace’s. He knew there were. He’d hired a security service that watched over celebrities to wait outside her apartment in case she needed anything. Had she called him back, he would have told her that. But she hadn’t, and he hadn’t pushed it.
“I can find my own way there,” she said, ever the tough-as-nails Midwesterner he knew her to be. “I’ll see you soon, Jordan.”
Jordan clicked off, staring down the hall. The energy buzz he always felt after a workout died away. It didn’t matter that things were going well for the team. He felt old and tired. And helpless.
Jordan finally made it to his car in the parking lot. As the QB, he had a reserved spot right next to Coach Humphrey’s 1992 blue weathered pickup. The truck was like his coach—unassuming, durable, and tough. The trade to the Rebels had been the start of his success. Grace had made him veal scaloppini instead of letting him take her out to celebrate his new, hefty contract. They’d made love after consuming way too much of an expensive Brunello he’d brought to her apartment.
Those days seemed eons ago right now.
Ignoring the team of reporters and scantily dressed women calling to him a short distance from the parking lot, he put his car in gear and sped out of the lot. The media followed him, of course, giving him that same hemmed in feeling.
When he got home, he rushed to tidy the house. The maid was coming over in a few days, everything was in shambles. When it was mostly presentable, he shaved and changed into khakis and a button-down shirt.
Jordan eyed his hair in the enormous slate-gray framed mirror in his bedroom. Even though she hadn’t said so, he knew Grace didn’t like it when he wore his hair a little long. Meg would hate it too. He licked his fingers and smoothed the hair back behind his ears in the hopes of making it more presentable to her. When he was finished, it was slightly more in keeping with his past look, but the hair curling at the collar couldn’t be concealed. With a sigh, he headed to the family room.
Eyeing the carved teak bar forlornly, he headed to the kitchen instead to prepare tea and coffee and wait for Meg to arrive.
The security guard in the complex finally called him to say she was downstairs. Noticing a pillow slightly out of place on the buttery Italian leather couch, Jordan darted to straighten it. There were more nerves licking in his stomach than before the Super Bowl.
He jumped slightly when his discreet doorbell chimed. Jordan walked down the foyer, which was lit by a French chandelier, and opened the door.
“Hello, Jordan.” Meg made an attempt to smile, but the corners of her mouth fell slowly. The sea-foam blouse she wore matched her eyes, but her white capris and low-heeled brown sandals made her seem even more petite than he remembered.
“Hey, Mrs. K.”
Meg awkwardly stepped forward and embraced him. Surprised, he slid his arms around her. She patted his back as she always did before releasing him.
“Please come inside. We can get you some tea.”
She hadn’t been to his new place before. Neither had Grace. He had sold the old one and bought the penthouse after the breakup, needing a change in scene. There were too many memories of Grace in his old apartment, even though this one was still in Midtown. He planned to keep it—even when his new house was finished. It was closer to the action downtown and a good investment.
Meg took in the surroundings. He knew what she was seeing. His penthouse boasted an incredible view of Atlanta’s downtown and bespoke of restrained wealth, an eye for beauty and comfort. It suited him to a T. He caught her wringing her hands, and since she was not a woman prone to nerves, it bothered him that his wealth would affect her like it did her daughter.
“I see you’ve been reading up on being a father,” she said, gesturing to the stack of books neatly arranged on the Italian tile coffee table.
“You know how I like to prepare for things,” he said, aware of the tension between them—one he didn’t know how to alleviate.
He wanted more than anything to demand that she tell him what had happened with Grace and the baby, but it seemed she wanted to take her time. Pushing her would get him nowhere. She was like Grace that way.
He led her to the kitchen. It was smaller than his old one, which had been designed and stocked for Grace. He had intentionally gone simpler this time around.
Jordan had already warmed the water in the stainless steel teakettle, so he simply turned on the gas to reheat it. After turning on the coffee maker, he turned around. Her green eyes were lasering into him. He felt as if she was reading his mind. She would guess about the kitchen. God knew what else she was picking up on.
“Please sit down.” He gestured
awkwardly to the bar stools by the marble countertop.
“Do you have a few telephone books I can stand on to get into it?” she asked, attempting to use levity to break some of the ice between them.
He couldn’t have been more grateful.
“Nope. They don’t really make those anymore—even for short ladies like you.”
They shared a smile, and he was able to take an easier breath.
“Let’s sit at the table. I’ll get your tea.”
He took the teapot he’d pulled out of a back cabinet and poured in the water. Like Grace, she loved chamomile with lemon and honey. The movers had packed the tea up with the rest of his stuff. His heart had lifted at the sight of it, and he’d kept it in the hopes she might surprise him sometime after his Super Bowl win. He’d been an idiot. Sam was right—he’d shamed her by letting himself be photographed with those other women. Grace never would have come to him if not for the baby.
Meg sat quietly as he brought over the teapot and mug. He smiled and then poured the coffee he’d made for himself.
When he sat down across from her, he said, “So, tell me about Grace.”
She told him the doctor’s prognosis in simple terms. He held her eyes the whole time, listening intently, while his stomach pitched in terror. She really could lose the baby. From his reading, he knew how vital the placenta was to a healthy pregnancy.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. K. This is all my fault.”
“Oh, Jordan,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “I’m sorry too. For all of you.”
“You must be so mad at me,” he said, his voice breaking. “And Pat and Mike and John.”
She placed her hand on his forearm. “We wish things were different for you both. This is hard…on everyone.”
He clenched his fist. “I hate this, you know? All of it. I don’t know how to make it right. I’m trying to do what I love, but my career keeps hurting Grace. And now our baby. Oh, God.”
“Jordan, I’ve known you since you were born. The Jordan that grew up in Deadwood had a life I understood. But all the VIP treatment and those women who flock around you.” She waved her hand. “No one can understand all that. I won’t pretend to. Only you can know if it’s making you happy.”
Of course she would have seen pictures of the extravagant parts of his lifestyle. Did she also wonder why he hadn’t asked Grace to marry him before? He was too afraid to ask.
“You and Grace are going to have to make it work for the baby’s sake. I don’t know how, but you will. You’ll soon learn that in order to be a good parent, you have to put what you want behind what’s best for your kids. It’s not easy, let me tell you.”
His mother had told him the same thing many times after his dad had walked out on them. He hoped he could be as good a parent as she’d been to him. And if she managed to help him a little from heaven, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Meg traced the rim of her mug. “You’re trying to do what you think is right by Grace. The idea of being neighbors is a good one, if you ask me.”
“That means a lot to me, coming from you,” he said harshly, taking a drink of his coffee to wet his throat. “Especially when I didn’t ask your daughter to marry me before.” All right, he was putting it out there.
“That’s not my business.” Meg paused. “Grace has to find her way through all this too. I hate to say this, but she’s broken under this, Jordan. I’ve never seen her this vulnerable. Being a mom is a big thing, but losing you and her dreams for the life she wanted… It’s like she’s lost a piece of herself.”
He could only nod. He didn’t know what else to say.
“She’ll face it because that’s what a Kincaid does. I know my daughter. It’s unimaginable to me how she must feel. The media spectacle only made it all worse.”
“I wish they’d never shown up.” He wanted to pound the table in frustration. “I want to obliterate all of them.”
“You’re not alone in that,” she said coldly. “But let’s focus on Grace and what’s best. Being pregnant takes a lot out of the body.”
And yet, before the recent media event, she’d been glowing. He’d felt her coming back to life and hoped their near reconciliation was one of the reasons. “I’m glad she’s resting, Meg. But I can’t imagine how upset she is about not being able to go in for work. She loves her job.”
“It will be hard on her, but she’ll do it for the baby. That’s all that matters now.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “What can I do to help?”
She clenched his hand hard, and his chest grew tight with foreboding. “The doctor thinks it might be best to let Grace rest without seeing you right now. Things between you are stressful, and stress isn’t good for the baby.”
Oh, Jesus. Not see her? I’m like Typhoid Mary. “If that’s what the doctor thinks is best. I want… Oh, God.” He felt tears burn his eyes. “I just want them both to be okay.”
“Give Grace some time to heal and get this baby out of the woods. In the meantime, you can work on a plan to keep the media away and allay her fears when she moves into the new house.”
“I’ve already hired a company. You have my word that I’ll do my best to handle the situation.” He couldn’t stop them from doing their job, but he could do a better job of protecting Grace and the baby.
She patted his hand. “I know there’s a lot of…stress and sadness now, but the joy of seeing your baby when he or she arrives… Jordan, it will change everything.”
Everyone said that, from the experts to his fellow players. He still didn’t completely know what it meant. But he planned to be as ready as he could be. They could all use a little joy.
“I’ll stay away, Mrs. K, until Grace and the baby are better,” he said, feeling his throat grow tight. “But you’ll tell her I’ll miss her. I’ve gotten used to…seeing her again. And the baby growing…”
He watched her blink tears away for a moment. “I’ll tell her, Jordan.”
“I was sorry you weren’t at the Super Bowl,” he made himself say.
Her eyes darkened. “We were too, Jordan. The boys came over to watch it with Pat and me. We were proud of you, Jordan. Your mother would have been too if God hadn’t seen fit to take her from us so young. You worked so hard for so long. You deserved it.”
Jordan found that he couldn’t respond. Man, he missed his mom. On days like this, all he wanted to do was dial her number and talk to her.
They sat quietly, drinking in the silence until Meg announced she needed to get back to Grace. When they reached the front door, Jordan moved first, holding onto her tightly until she pressed back. As she walked to the elevator, he had to bite his lip not to call out to her and ask her to tell Grace that he loved her.
Chapter 10
Grace’s spotting didn’t stop over the next few weeks, but it didn’t worsen either. Her mom arranged for a leave of absence from the hospital to stay with her longer. The bed rest was a constant frustration, but her mom’s presence helped. She didn’t know what she would have done without her.
Her mom called Jordan with periodic updates at Grace’s request, but whenever she listened to her mom talk to him on the phone, she had to fight the tears that wanted to streak down her cheeks. And the urge to grab the phone and talk to him. She missed hearing his beautiful voice.
His Once Upon a Dare guys showered her with well wishes and presents, everything from giant teddy bears and cashmere baby blankets for the baby to French copper pots and white truffles harvested near Alba for her. She suspected Jordan was behind the ongoing encouragement—that it was his way of staying connected—and it made her miss him even more.
As more days passed, Grace relaxed, knowing the baby was further out of the woods. They were going to make it, and sometimes, she gave in to the tears of relief at that thought.
An oppressive humidity hung over Atlanta on a Wednesday evening in early July just two days after America’s birthday when she felt it: a huge tugging
in her womb. She put her hands on her belly.
“What’s wrong?” her mom immediately asked, setting her knitting aside and rising from her normal perch in the rocking chair they’d brought into Grace’s bedroom.
Her gaze flew to her mother’s. “I’m not sure. There was this tugging. Didn’t feel like the usual.”
“Hmm…” her mom said, falling into nurse mode. “Let’s hang out a little while and see what happens.”
Her mom placed her hand on the watermelon shape that had become her belly.
A few minutes later, there was another tug, this one stronger than the last. The pain seemed to shoot up her side. “Ow. Are these contractions?” Please no. I’m not full-term yet.
“They might be,” her mom said. “Could be Braxton Hicks. Any back pain?”
Her alarm was rising, and she could feel the urgent beat of her heart in her chest. “Yes, for a few hours now. I thought I was just uncomfortable. Lying down all the time makes me feel like a beached whale. Mom, I’m scared.”
“Don’t be,” her mom said, cupping her face and staring into her eyes. “I’m here. Everything is going to be fine, Gracie.”
But soon the pains sharpened.
“Why don’t you call your doctor?” her mom said finally. “I think she’s going to want you to come to the hospital, but let’s confirm.”
Sure enough, after a short call, her doctor asked her if she wanted them to send an ambulance. Her mom shook her head when she asked her, saying they didn’t need the fanfare.
“I think we should call Jordan and see if he can take us, Grace,” her mom surprised her by saying. “You don’t have to have him in the room when the baby is born, but he’ll want to be at the hospital. He’ll feel more included that way.”
Just the thought of seeing Jordan again in the flesh had her insides churning, but it was the right move. “Will you call him?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” her mom said, grabbing her phone. “Hi, Jordan. Don’t freak out, but Grace is having some contractions, and the doctor wants her to come to the hospital. Can you come and pick us up?”
