"I can't believe we're doing this," I grumble, the sounds of what is obviously an over-the-top party already making me itchy, and we're not even to the front door yet. Makes me wonder what all the neighbors are thinking and when they'll be calling the cops.Nate Funderling and his giant ego bought an overpriced condo a couple of years ago, right near Memorial Drive. Knowing what professional soccer players make, I know it was way over his budget, and I've always wondered how he was able to buy it in the first place. Now that he's moving to Timbuktu, instead of selling it, he's renting it out. My guess is he'll be upside down on the mortgage if he doesn't hold on to it for a while longer. Because he's a dumb ass. So instead of being able to unload it, he's renting it to… hell I don't know who he's renting it to, nor do I care. I stopped interacting with most of my teammates beyond necessary team conversation after several of them participated in publicly humiliating Tiffany.Posting a
Sliding the door open, they both look up at me."Everything okay out here, babe?""Fine," Tiffany assures and reaches for me. Seeing the question in my eyes, she continues with, "Sorry. The smoke was getting to me."I nod once and gesture for her to move forward so I can sit behind her. Partially to be near her and partially to remind Santos that her place is with me. He's not looking at us, but I'm not dumb enough to think he doesn't see it. "Babe, can I ask you a question?" Tiffany asks. I nod as I shift and get more comfortable. "How did you know I was done with this lifestyle? With the parties and stuff."The personal nature of her question surprises me. I'm not really sure how to answer, especially in front of present company."Um, I.. I don't know," I stutter.She nudges me. "Come on. I promise I'm not being girly and emotional right now. I need your honest answer."I'm still not convinced but I don't mind humoring her. Leaning my head back, I think about how best to answer. "We
Pregnancy is not all it's cracked up to be. Not that I was expecting it to be a cakewalk. But I'd looked up a few websites and every one of them said morning sickness usually tapers off at about ten weeks or so.Lies. They all tell lies.Here I sit at twelve weeks pregnant, and not only has the nausea not gone away, I swear I throw up more now than I did a few weeks ago. Even these gross hard ginger candies my mother-in-law told me about don't work.Disgusted at the thought of eating another one, I toss the offending candy back in my drawer and slam it shut just as Steve jumps out of his chair, arms raised victoriously."Woo hoo! Nailed it! Did you see that three-pointer?" he yells, eyes still glued to the monitor. "Nailed it!""Yep," I answer nonchalantly, even though I want to call him out about this catchphrase he's been overusing lately, but I don't. He knows basketball is my least favorite sport of them all. Especially these days when watching players run up and down on the court,
"What is it with you and that catchphrase?"He shrugs. "It fits so many parts of my life." I roll my eyes as he continues spouting off all his positive traits. "Including the fact that I'm a wealth of pregnancy information," he boasts, going back to his work. "You should've been picking my brain all along.""It seems that way.""And don't worry. When the horrific gas that smells like something is rotting inside you comes, I have remedies for that too."Shaking my head, I try not to laugh. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that.""Pretend all you want. Eventually you'll let one rip during a staff meeting and be pissed at yourself for not taking me up on my offer.""Okay, I'm gonna just keep gathering these scores…"He shrugs as I turn back to my monitor, keeping the lemon close by. Admittedly, I feel a little stupid. Part of my job is researching. Researching scores, background information on players, patterns of play for teams. And yet I couldn't figure out how to look up remedies
It's funny how everything changes when you find the one you want to be with forever.Two years ago, going on a road trip was fun. I liked visiting different cities and checking out stadiums around the country. I enjoyed hanging out with my teammates. We had a good time.Then Tiffany and I started dating and it got harder. I still enjoyed going on trips, but I always wanted to get back quickly to be with her. I wasn't clingy or anything. Nothing stalkerish. With her is just where I wanted to be all the time. Now that she's pregnant, though, I have no desire to leave whatsoever. None. My instincts have kicked in something fierce, and all I want to do is stay home and take care of her. It doesn't help that she's sick all the time. It just increases my worry tenfold. Even when she tries to make me feel better."Seriously, Rookie, I'm fine.""You aren't fine, babe. I can tell by your voice that you just got sick again."Sitting on the bench in the locker room, I'm taking advantage of the f
I use a little too much force to toss my own tape into the trash and rest my hands on my knees, ready to tell all. "All that morning sickness is supposed to go away by ten or twelve weeks, but it seems to be getting worse. We asked about it yesterday and the doctor said some women never get over it.""Seriously?""It doesn't happen often, but of course it happens to my wife. And, of course, there's nothing I can do about it. And, of course, the doctor mentioned watching for dehydration since she throws up a thousand times a day, so now I feel like I'm constantly making her drink water, which just makes her throw up again." The frustration runs through me again, now that I'm not having to hold myself together in front of Tiffany. Not that I need to, but I know it adds to her aggravation these days. "I'm sorry, man. That fucking sucks.""I don't know how you went through this three times," I say with a shake of my head.He chuckles. "It's different every time. I remember the first time,
I underestimated the vastness of the housing market in Houston. By a lot.Who knew when you have a decent-sized budget and a good realtor, you could spend hours upon hours searching for the perfect home?I didn't. And now I regret it.When Rowen's mom, Denise, invited me to come along with them, I reluctantly said yes. I am almost out of my first trimester, but the exhaustion and sickness is still taking a huge toll on me. I really wanted to nap instead, but they're my husband's parents. My child's grandparents. I want us to be close since they're going to be around so much more in the next few months.Plus, a small part of me still feels like I'm trying to impress them. It's overcompensation for the embarrassment I still feel about our first meeting. I know I shouldn't feel that way. They've made it very clear they don't look at me differently or anything. But damn if that insecurity doesn't rear its ugly head if I think too hard. Hormones don't help.So I agreed to go house hunting,
Laying my head back on my arms, I notice Denise has a huge grin on her face."What?" I ask.She glances up at me then back down to dump some flour in the bowl. "Every time he can't stump you makes me laugh. You know he actually jots down jokes now, so he can remember to try them out on you?" She chuckles. "It's become his personal mission to prove he's funnier than you."I shake my head, stifling a giggle. "That is a very strange life goal.""No one ever said my husband wasn't strange. He's a good man, but he definitely keeps me on my toes."I watch as she reads her recipe and continues adding ingredients to the bowl. I'm not a very good cook, but I enjoy watching her do so many things at once. Rice, eggs, now… whatever this is. I'm impressed."Why don't you go take a nap," she says suddenly, and I realize I must look as wiped as I feel. My head is back down on my arms and I'm just blankly staring as she works."I should," I say through a deep sigh. "But I don't know if I have enough e
The snick of the lock unlatching when I wave my key fob in front of the door is the first real sign that life is going back to normal. Well, as normal as life can be after a new little human has come into the world. But as I step through the door and into the newsroom, I realize nothing has changed. The scanners are still squawking. Reporters are still making calls and typing. Televisions still glow with every local station and CNN ready to be monitored. The only difference is the person at the assignment desk."Hi Tom," I greet as I grab a huge stack of mail I'll need to sort through upstairs. There's too much to go through down here."Tiffany." He tips his head at me and goes back to his business. Tom took over for Caleb when he moved upstairs. He's a little older than everyone else in the newsroom. His hair and neatly trimmed beard are almost gray. He's pleasant enough, just sticks to himself. We definitely don't have the same kind of rapport Caleb and I use to have.That also mean
Rowen makes sure we're all settled before kissing me on the top of the head and throwing on his sweats. "What do you want to eat? My mam brought bangers and mash.""I'll leave that for you," I joke, knowing it's his favorite. "But do we still have any of that grilled chicken salad? I don't know why but it sounds really good.""Yep. I'll go grab it for you."The last three months have been an adjustment, but overall, it's gone really well. Cace is a great baby, but I didn't expect anything less with him being Rowen's child. Well, that's not exactly true. A part of me always remembered Ryan is his grandfather, so I know there's some ornery in there waiting to come out. But for the most part, he's very docile. Cries when he's hungry, fusses when he's wet, but otherwise even-tempered. And my in-laws have been wonderful. Sure, the men argue all the time about the safest way to hold the baby or the best cleaning products. Denise and I just laugh at the ridiculousness and let them hash it ou
"Keep doing that," I moan, grabbing Rowen's hair and pulling him closer to my core. His tongue still does magical things to my lady parts and today, he's going to town. Licking, nipping, and sucking as he inserts two fingers inside me, hitting just the right spot. "Oh, that's it. Right there… ohgod…"My orgasm hits me fast and hard, just the way I like it these days. He continues to suck on my clit as the waves overtake me, riding me to that sated feeling I love. But he's not done yet.As soon as I've come back down to earth, he kisses up my body, paying special attention to the scar that now mars my abdomen. When I look at my stomach, I see flabby skin that hasn't tightened up yet and a knife wound. But Rowen tells me it's beautiful. That it's a reminder of the sacrifice I made to give him the best gift he's ever received - our son. Coming from anyone else, I'd say they were full of shit. But coming from Rowen, I know he means every word. Because of it, I still feel beautiful. It al
"I know you'll be here when you can, Mom," I say through FaceTime on my phone. "Really, all we're going to do for the next few weeks is sleep and eat anyway. Maybe bathe."Stroking the top of my son's head, I watch as he suckles on my breast. Yes, the dull pain of breastfeeding is there, but that doesn't take away the surreal feeling of being a new mom. It's amazing."I know." My mom sighs. "I'm just mad at myself. Of all the times to fall down some steps and break an ankle, this is the worst."I giggle lightly. "I still can't believe you did it at the gym.""And right after my kickboxing class too! I had just shown everyone what a badass I am, and three steps took me out.""Any muggers with ill intentions better beware of running into you in a back alley. Unless there are stairs involved." "Well, hopefully in the next few weeks, the doctor will clear me for travel. Then I'll be on the first plane there.""Sounds good to me." Baby Cace squeaks and pulls away from my breast, nuzzling h
The thoughts are overwhelming. I've never been this happy in my life, and I've only seen him for a split second. Lifting my head, I look around trying to catch another glimpse. Apparently, I'm not as subtle as I think I am."Would you like to see your son? You can go over there."Nodding, I stand up and follow the person over to a small table where my son is lying down, clearly unhappy by being poked and prodded. I don't blame him. I wouldn't like if all my glory was on display in front of these strangers either."Can I… can I touch him?" I ask tentatively, not sure what I'm allowed to do right now."Absolutely," the person says. "And talk to him. Babies like familiar voices."Slowly, I get closer, still in awe that I'm looking at my son. My son. It feels like I'm walking through a dream. Reaching down, I touch his tiny hand which immediately stretches and grabs my finger. The contact makes me suck in a breath. He's real. This is real. It's not a dream at all."Hello there, mo mhac. I'
I have dreamed about this day for months. Thought about every scenario on how it could happen. Planned for any situation. Prepared myself in every possible way.Except this one.Not one part of me anticipated I'd be standing in the hallway of the hospital wearing drab green scrubs with a matching surgical cap, waiting to join my wife in an operating room. And yet here I am, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more nervous than I've ever been in my life.It's not just the operation. Yes, that is my immediate concern. As much as I like Dr. Hermann, he's getting ready to cut Tiffany open and pull our son out through a gaping wound. I'm sure there's more to it than that, but it basically boils down to that, and it's scary. What if he cuts the wrong part and he can't stop the bleeding? What if he accidentally cuts my child? What if she gets a major infection? The horrific possibilities are terrifying.Taking a breath to refocus my thoughts, I try to remember all the positives. Tiffany won't
I can practically feel his surprise when he shifts, situating us face-to-face. Thankfully, my doctor and my father-in-law have started chatting again, so Rowen and I can have some privacy. "Tiffany, this is just a change in the play. You of all people know how easily it can happen. I know this isn't soccer, but it's not that different. We go into every match with a plan, but sometimes it doesn't go like we expected. There's an injury or a new goalie." I smirk at his reference to the issues the team had early in the season. "The objective is always the same, but how we get there doesn't matter as long as we do. It's the same thing here. It doesn't matter how he gets here as much as it matters that it happens safely for both of you."I sniff again, but my tears have all but dried up. "We've been deflected."He nods and smiles at me. "Exactly. It's a change of play. But in the end, when we're holding him and taking care of him, we'll forget about everything except that we won."I chuckle
A low murmuring pulls me from sleep. I know it's only been a couple hours, but I feel so much better than I did. Damn that epidural for being as amazing as everyone said it would be.Peeling my eyes open, I roll slightly onto my back to see Dr. Hermann and Ryan chatting like old friends. A few seconds of eavesdropping and I finally catch the source of their newfound connection - Ireland. Apparently, Dr. Hermann spent a summer backpacking through Europe and caught a couple games when Ryan was in his prime and playing in front of his hometown fans. I'm sure the tales are tall right now, but at least their relaxed chatter means nothing wrong is happening on my side of the room.Glancing around, I finally catch sight of my husband who is sleeping soundly. I'm glad to see him getting some rest. He's been trying so hard to be strong for me. It's not gone unnoticed. But at last count he'd been awake for thirty hours. It was wearing on him."Ah, iníon sa dlí, yer awake."Ryan steps toward me a
Another eight hours. Another one centimeter dilated. Almost. I may be rounding up out of my own feeling of desperation. This entire experience is not at all like I expected. Not that I knew what was supposed to happen. Sure, we'd taken a birthing class one Saturday, but that was months ago when our schedules allowed us both to be there. And it never told us what would happen if Tiffany's body refused to do what it should. At least Tiffany's sleeping now. About four hours after the Pitocin began, she started crying, saying she couldn't do it anymore. She'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours and had been in some form of labor for over half of it. Plus, once the drugs kicked in, her contractions went from being painful to downright excruciating. It didn't take much convincing for her to finally decide to have the epidural. But it did take my Mam physically moving me out of the way to help her through all her fears - fear of a needle in her spine, fear of the drugs hurting the baby,