Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I nod slowly. “I know you are. And it’s okay. I also know you didn’t mean it.”
“Are we good?” he asks gruffly.
“Always.” I kiss him. With an unprofessional amount of tongue, ignoring the loud reaction of Nice’s friends.
Garrett’s fingers tangle in my hair. He pulls away for a moment to meet my eyes, staring at me with an expression I’ve never seen before.
My breath catches. “What?”
“I love you. Maybe more than I ever have.”
“We’re having a baby,” I say, grinning with both excitement and still a bit of trepidation.
“Bet your ass we are.”
43
Garrett
“Get back in bed. I’ll bring it to you.”
“It’s just coffee,” Hannah tells me the next morning, standing at the machine in the kitchen. “I’m not going outside to clean the gutters.”
“Doctor said to take it easy.”
“I don’t think making some decaf and pouring it into a mug is over the line.”
Turns out keeping Hannah off her feet is damn near impossible. If this woman makes it more than two days working from home before sneaking back into the studio, I’ll be shocked. Already I can tell she’s going to be a pain in the ass during this pregnancy.
Hopefully our friends can rally around me and help keep her in check. Last night we put out the word to everyone we care about, sharing the good news and watching the texts roll in congratulating us. Reading the hilarious messages reminded Hannah we’re not as alone in this as she’d feared.
Grace is already talking about helping Hannah pick out nursery furniture when she gets back from Paris. Sabrina promised to help out too, though it might be harder for her because in that same text thread we learned that she and Tuck had both accepted jobs in Manhattan and will be leaving Boston at the end of the summer. I’m happy for them, but I can’t help but feel bummed that Tucker, the only dad I know, won’t be in close proximity to me anymore.
“I was thinking,” Hannah says as she raises her mug to her lips. “We should get married.”
I’m in the middle of pouring some orange juice, and my hand freezes mid-pour. “Oh yeah?” I keep my tone casual.
She takes a demure sip, then flashes a little smile. “If you’re into it.”
It’s pretty hard not to throw my OJ glass on the floor, dropkick Hannah’s mug out of her hand, and maul her. “Yeah, I could be into it.”
“Cool.”
“You want me to get you a ring?”
“Obviously. Just don’t make it as big as Allie’s. I’m not a psycho.”
I bite my cheek to stop from laughing. “That’s it? That’s our proposal?”
“I mean, we love each other and we’re having a baby. Isn’t that all that matters? Who needs speeches?”
She’s right. “Who needs speeches,” I echo, grinning. “Now. Please.” I take her coffee mug and guide her toward the staircase. “Go back to bed. And don’t you dare get up on the roof while I’m gone.”
“Can I at least do some vacuuming?”
“Swear to God, I’ll send Tucker and Sabrina over here to strap you down.”
“I’d like to see them try.”
Chuckling, I smack her butt to get her walking up the stairs. But I trail after her, because I still need to finish getting dressed. While she crawls back under the covers like a good girl, I search for a clean button-up and slip it over my shoulders. The nerves slowly work their way up from my stomach and into my throat. There’s no part of me that is looking forward to what comes next.
“You never said where you’re off to,” Hannah says. She’s sitting up in bed, flipping through channels on the TV.
“I’m going to talk to the ESPN producer,” I admit. “I ran off the set the other day during taping and haven’t spoken to anyone since. Landon set up a meeting between me and the producer. Just the two of us.”
She looks over sharply. “What are you going to do?”
“What I have to.”
When I get to the studio, Stephen Collins invites me into his office. I decline a beverage from his assistant, trying to charge past all the doting and on to the reason I’m here before I find a way to talk myself out of it.
“I hope it was nothing too serious,” the producer says, sitting on the edge of his desk. Behind his head, there’s a wall of awards and signed sports memorabilia. “Bryan and I were sorry we weren’t able to finish the segment. Got some really great stuff out of the interview. We’d like to get you and your father back on set sometime this week, if that works for you.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that,” I state plainly.
His polite smile falters. “If we have to push it a week or so, I suppose—”
“I have to pull out of the show, Stephen. I don’t want you to air it at all. Any of it.”