by Sarina Bowen
Then I lose twenty bucks to Heidi, who’s a better bluffer than anyone on the hockey team. She takes me with a pair of fours, for God’s sake.
“Yes!” she whisper-shrieks, mindful of the napping baby. “Ante up, people.”
“Oh boy,” Anton grumbles. “This better be my last hand.”
Across the room, Bess is holding a frozen margarita in a pretty glass. And I decide I’d rather chat with the ladies than lose at poker. “I’m out, ladies and gents. It was a pleasure losing to you.”
Slowly I stand, careful to support Roberto’s head, so that it doesn’t flop and wake him up. I cross the room, and all the women give me that smitten face that they reserve for men holding babies.
It’s a perk, honestly. I’ll take it. But where is Bess?
At first I think she’s given me the slip, but then I see a flash of red in the corner behind a tall, potted plant.
Hmm. What’s that all about?
Thirty-Seven
Plant Killer
Bess
As soon as I’m out of sight of my friends, I tip half my margarita into the soil at the base of the fern. I’ll hold the glass until the rest of it melts, and nobody will notice.
I can’t believe it’s come to this. I hope tequila doesn’t kill designer house plants.
My little secret is getting harder to hide. I’m mildly nauseous all the time, although I don’t actually vomit. Except for one time at work. And Eric was on a call the whole time and didn’t notice my quick departure from the room. He can’t understand why I gave up coffee, though. And sushi.
“Wow, you guzzled that. Was it tasty?”
I practically leap three inches into the air and spin around.
Tank’s gaze goes from my glass right down to the small puddle of frozen margarita melting into the potted plant’s soil. Then his chin snaps upward and his gaze collides with mine. “Bess, what—”
“I just…” Have no convenient way to finish this sentence. And I can practically see it all clicking into place behind his eyes.
“Jesus,” he breathes. “No way. Are you—” He swallows hard. He doesn’t want to say it out loud.
It’s scary to say it out loud. And this is why I’ve become a nutter who poisons potted plants. “Yes,” I choke out. “I’m sorry.”
“Holy…” He takes a deep breath. “I thought I was crazy.”
I give my head a violent shake. “You’re not. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know what to do.”
“How far?” he asks, reaching out to take my hand in his.
My fingers close around his, and I immediately feel more centered. “Ten weeks.”
He looks around for a second, as if trying to figure out if someone is pranking him. Like he just can’t grab onto the reality. Still holding my hand, he sits down hard on the window seat. “Ten. Ten weeks? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I’m so sorry,” I echo just as Roberto wakes up from the sudden motion.
He picks up his little head and yowls.
With shaking hands, I reach down and unclip the sides of the carrier, lifting his warm body out, and cuddling him to my shoulder. “Tank, I didn’t know what to say. Keeping it a secret felt wrong. But telling you seemed mean, too. Because I didn’t want you to get excited for nothing.”
“Wow, okay.” He reaches an arm around my body and leans his head against my hip. “You feel okay?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Mostly. Well, I feel like barfing pretty often, but it doesn’t actually happen. I’m exhausted all the time. But—God—I’m just whining right now. I’m fine. We’re fine.”
“This is a shock.” He takes a deep breath. “How did it happen?”
“Um, the usual way?” I pat Roberto’s small back. “I did such a good job forgetting about the whole thing that I guess I forgot about the whole thing. And then I didn’t pull out the condoms on the right days. Tank, I’m sorry.”
He raises his finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose and squeezes.
“I hope you can forgive me. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry to stress you out.”
He shakes his head. When his hand falls away, I have the shock of a lifetime. His eyes are red-rimmed and wet. “Come here.” He pats the bench next to him.
I sit. It’s never a hardship to do what Tank asks of me.
He wraps both arms carefully around me and the baby. “I love you. I would rather have dealt with this together, Bessie. I’m not as fragile as that. We’re not as fragile as that.”
“But it would kill me to disappoint you,” I say quietly.
“You can’t, Bess.” His voice is raw. “Not with this. So long as we’re together, I have everything I need.”
Anton Bayer’s head peeps around the big potted plant. “Oh noes! Are you guys okay? How much did Tank lose at poker, anyway?”
Tank laughs, swiping at his eyes. “I’m not losing at anything.”
“What’s happening?” My brother comes to stand beside Anton. “Is something wrong?”
“Not a thing!” I say, sniffling. “I’m just…pregnant.”
“Holy shit. But I thought…” My brother laughs. “Never mind what I thought. Here’s to more redheads!” He raises his beer as a toast.
“Maybe,” I hedge. “It’s early.”
“Does anyone else know about this?” Tank asks.
“No way. Just the doctor. If I couldn’t tell you, I wasn’t telling anyone.”
“Tell us what?” Becca asks, moving Dave out of her way so she can see me. “Wait. Did you dump out the margarita I made you?”
“I’m sorry,” I say because apparently I’m apologizing to everyone today. “I’m off alcohol until late July. Hopefully.”
Becca gives a little shriek.
“Late July,” Tank says slowly. “Oh my God. Wow. I’ll be on vacation.”
“Right after you win the cup!” Becca says with a smile. “A girl can dream. Would this be an awkward time to tell you that I’m due in June?”
“You’re kidding!” Anton shouts. “It’s gonna be baby city around here.”
That’s when the party turns into a back-slapping, congratulating outpouring of good cheer. Tank stands up and accepts all the congratulations and teasing that come his way. Including: “Nice job, Sure Shot.”
I suppose that joke was inevitable.
It’s a few long minutes until I get my husband alone again. We sneak out of the party and take the elevator back to our quiet apartment. Tank lays the sleeping baby in his port-a-crib and then joins me on the sofa, where we just hold each other for a few minutes in contemplative silence.
“Mark,” I whisper eventually. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He runs a hand down my hair. “It’s okay, love. I know you were trying to spare my feelings. I was very clear that I didn’t want to try for this. But since it’s here, I have to tell you I’m so excited I can hardly breathe.”
I let out a quick breath. “But no pressure.”
He chuckles and then wraps his strong arms around me. “It’s okay, Bess. We’re okay.”
“Can I just say that I still want to adopt? So badly. We might need a bigger apartment.”
“Well, I still want to adopt, too.” He kisses me on the temple. “That won’t change. If we welcome another baby into the world first, then our adopted child will have a sibling.”
I shiver suddenly. “Wow. This is starting to seem real.”
“You and I are already real,” he whispers. “No matter what happens with the baby, I’ll be here for you.”
I swivel to face him. “And I’ll be here for you,” I agree. “I promise.”
There’s nothing more that needs to be said after that. So he kisses me instead.
T h e
E n d
Thank you for reading Sure Shot!
Don’t miss the Brooklyn Bruisers bonus scenes!
Did you know there’s a book for Eric Bayer, too? Grab your copy of Moo
nlighter. Or turn the page for more Sarina Bowen titles!
Also by Sarina Bowen
EVERY BOOK IN THE BROOKLYN BRUISERS WORLD:
THE BROOKLYN BRUISERS
Rookie Move
Hard Hitter
Pipe Dreams
Brooklynaire
Overnight Sensation
Superfan
Moonlighter
* * *
TRUE NORTH
Bittersweet
Steadfast
Keepsake
Bountiful
Speakeasy
Fireworks
Heartland
* * *
THE IVY YEARS
The Year We Fell Down #1
The Year We Hid Away #2
The Understatement of the Year #3
The Shameless Hour #4
The Fifteenth Minute #5
Extra Credit #6
* * *
GRAVITY
Coming In From the Cold #1
Falling From the Sky #2
Shooting for the Stars #3
* * *
HELLO GOODBYE
Goodbye Paradise
Hello Forever
* * *
With Tanya Eby
Man Hands
Man Card
Boy Toy
Man Cuffed
* * *
With Elle Kennedy
GOOD BOY by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
STAY by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
HIM by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
US by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
Top Secret by Sarina Bowen & Elle Kennedy
Acknowledgments
A special thank you to Claudia, Jo, Jenn and Natasha for reading early and catching the last few errors. Thank you to Edie for your tireless editing in the midst of a scary time.
Thank you to Hang Le for your beautiful work, and to Wander for this photo.
Thank you to Emma Wilder for producing the Sure Shot audio book as all the studios closed and production times lengthened. Our motto: we shall not stress over this.
