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“Feeling’s mutual, asshole,” I mumble, though I know he doesn’t hear me.
I have a feeling Ed knows Callie and I are living together, but maybe he doesn’t.
On the plane, the guys are laughing and having a good time with one another. It’s a good vibe even though we know the season is slipping away.
I sit near the window, staring at my phone to see a text from Callie showing me her tits.
Mase sits next to me. “What’s with the grin?”
I turn my phone away from him. “Thinking of Callie in bed this morning.”
“Not again.” Remy groans on the other side of Mase. “Stop it. You’re making me jealous. I haven’t gotten laid in like two weeks.”
“And who was that with? Catelyn?” Ryan grins and then dodges the left hook Mase delivers toward him.
Just so we’re clear, Remy does not deny it.
Remy fights Mase off, but not easily. “I take it pregnancy sex is good?”
“It’s amazing.” I grab Mase and force him to sit back down because he’s kicked me in the face twice now in the process of trying to attack Remy over the seat. And then I feel the need to tell them all: “She bleached her exit ramp. She’s going all out.”
That gets their attention, and suddenly they’re all ears. “Really?” Mase asks, sounding surprised and then just as intrigued as Remy is for details. “What’s it look like?”
“I don’t know. Bleached.”
Remy coughs, trying to catch his breath, and then pops his head up over the seat. “Does it work?”
I shrug. “I don’t look at assholes that much. But it looks good.”
And that’s how the rest of the plane ride goes. Us googling images of bleached assholes.
* * *
April thirteenth.That’s the day Callie found out the sex of the baby, and I was in Vancouver. She never called to tell me. I called her, but she wouldn’t tell me. She said we’d talk about it when I got home. Wanted to tell me in person.
I got home late last night, and she was asleep.
With a 2-0 game lead in the series over us, we headed home to the Canucks on home ice. Saturday morning, before I’m leaving for practice again, Callie is sitting in the kitchen staring at a black and white photograph. Wearing white sweatpants rolled down with the words PINK written up the leg. Her light gray tank top is raised, revealing a few inches of her skin. I find it adorable when her stomach peeks out from her clothing now that she has a bump. I personally find the baby bump extremely hot. I never knew I’d find pregnancy so sexy, but I do. There’s nothing hotter to me than her carrying my child. Possessive maybe, but still, she’s carrying a part of me with her.
Coming up behind her, I place my hands on her stomach, my lips resting on her bare shoulders. “Sorry I didn’t wake you when I got home. You looked so peaceful.”
“That’s okay.” She twists on the stool and draws me between her legs, holding onto my waist. “Sucks you’re leaving again.”
“What’s that?” I ask, staring at the black and white photo on the counter behind her.
Holding the picture up to my eye level, she kisses my forearm. “Your son.”
A son? I’m going to be the father of a son?No wonder she wanted to tell me that in person. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Holy shit. What’s that weird feeling in my chest? Why does it hurt? Am I getting sick? No, that’s… pride? No. It’s not that. It’s fucking fear. How am I going to parent a son?
“Really?” I swallow over the dryness in my throat. My heart thuds loudly in my chest. “What… I… well, can you tell the sex?”
Callie searches my eyes, watching my reaction. “It’s a boy.”
I’m positive the look on my face isn’t what she’s expecting me to have, but everything lately is turning out that way. Imagine when the kid is born?
I stare at the photo, trying to make sense of my thoughts.
A boy.