Page 17

FOURTEEN

HANNAH

Daniel: How are you feeling?

Me: I’m good.

Two hours later

Daniel: How are you feeling?

Me: still good.

A few hours later

Daniel: Still feeling okay?

Me: I’m fine. Thanks.

Like a tiny tornado, Oliver scrambles into the kitchen holding up a card and wearing the biggest smile on his face. “Dad is taking me to Disney World!”

With as much faux surprise as I can muster, I widen my eyes and let my jaw go slack. “ No way . Does that mean I’ll get the television all to myself this weekend?”

Oliver folds his arms across his chest and grunts. “You control the TV even when I’m here.”

A chuckle escapes me. He’s right. I refuse to watch cartoons or YouTube videos. SportsCenter feels too much like work, and no one in their right mind should watch the news. That shit is just depressing.

Noah never watches television so at least I don’t have to fight him for the remote. The only thing the man ever seems to watch is that damn Serendipity movie. I swear I’ve caught him watching that late at night on his lap top more times that I can count.

“Don’t lie. You like watching Joanna Gaines just as much as I do.”

Yup, I force my four-year-old nephew to watch home DIY shows with me. When I was a kid, we never stayed anywhere long enough to develop that sense of home. Even now, there are no pictures on my walls, no memories stashed away. I don’t think my mother has a single photo album from my childhood.

Since Noah and Oliver moved in, I’ve become acutely aware of how different his parenting is from that of my mother’s. Then again, it makes sense. His father has photos galore all over his apartment. He even has one of me with Noah at his graduation.

A dull ache throbs in my chest. What type of mom will I be? Will any of that stuff come naturally?

I’ll probably be the clueless, delusional type. So far, since I took the pregnancy tests last week, all I’ve done is ignore everything pregnancy related.

I’m also doing an excellent job of avoiding Daniel.

Can’t say my mother never taught me anything.

I clearly inherited her natural tendency toward avoidance and an inability to communicate. Excellent.

To be fair, the man has texted me the same couple of words every few hours, every single day, for the last week. It’s awkward. And annoying. I’m fine. Okay, maybe not totally fine, but mostly. I’m not nauseous, I’m not showing. I’m just a woman who can no longer have coffee, alcohol, or sex with strangers.

Basically, I’m no longer me. But still, I’m fine!

“I do love Joanna, but I miss cartoons.”

Noah laughs as he joins us in the kitchen. “Are the two of you arguing about the TV again?”

Oliver is incredibly smart for his age. So smart I wonder how he puts up with the rest of us.

“Oliver was just telling me about your trip to Disney.”

Noah ruffles his son’s silky brown hair, and the little boy peers up at him with a look of total adoration. “ Dad .”

With a smile down at the kid, he heads for the coffeepot. It’s ridiculous, really, but I’m still brewing a pot of regular coffee in order to keep up appearances. Even at work, I use the same coffee pods I always have to avoid drawing attention to the change in my routine. It should be a crime, pouring out so many cups of perfectly good coffee.

“When are you headed out again?” Noah asks as he spins around, holding a coffee cup out to me.

I hold out a hand. “Had one already, thanks. Trying to cut down on my caffeine.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “Right. You, not drinking coffee?” He shakes his head and gives me a sly grin.

Ugh. He’s so right. I live for coffee. And alcohol. And sex.

Not that I can’t have sex. The issue is that the only person I want to have it with right now is the man I’m avoiding.

“We leave for Chicago on Sunday.”

“Damn. That’s the day we get home from Disney.” He sighs.

“I know. My schedule sucks.” It truly does. During the season, I bounce from place to place constantly. Though I technically live in Boston, I don’t spend more than four days at a time here during baseball season. And the season is long . We travel from March through the end of September. If the Revs play well enough, they sometimes travel until the end of October. And the team owns me. I go where they go.

It’s exhausting, but I love it.

Or I did.

Last season felt longer than any other before. And soon, my whole life will be changing. I’ll show in the not-so-distant future, right? Will I get sick? Will my feet swell? Will I have pregnancy brain and be unable to do my job effectively?

As well as I’ve avoided most things, I have forced myself to do some reading on what’s safe during pregnancy, and the long list of symptoms I came across during that research could very easily make my job a challenge. It seems pregnancy and parenthood don’t mix well with the type of job that requires a person to travel for six months out of the year.

And motherhood sounds even less conducive to that.

Just another set of thoughts to avoid for the time being.

“Wish you could come to Disney,” Oliver pouts.

Noah laughs again. “That is not your aunt’s scene.” He eyes me over his cup of coffee. “Kids. Rides. Family time.” He shudders, though he’s grinning. “Her worst nightmare.”

I roll my eyes. He’s not wrong. But still…I guess I may need to change that. Right?

“I can’t believe the season is over.” Millie lets out a long sigh.

Dinner tonight is a subdued affair. The guys lost their game against Detroit last week, which brought the season to an end. They’ve got seven weeks of freedom before preseason training begins in August, and for a lot of them, that means they’ll be leaving Boston. But the guys whose wives and girlfriends are sitting around this table with me will stay in town and be home much, much more.

Lennox smiles. “I, for one, was over it. Aiden was too damn busy. I’m excited to have him in bed with me every night for the next few months.”

“Same,” Ava agrees. “Especially since we have some news.”

Hand resting on my hip, I turn to my best friend. Before she goes on, I know what she’s going to say. I assess her stomach, looking for changes. It doesn’t look any different, but as if on instinct, she brings a hand to it.

That’s all the confirmation I need.

Even so, I lean in close. “You’re pregnant?”

Green eyes glistening, she dips her chin. “We wanted to wait until the whole crew was in town before we told everyone.”

“Oh my god!” Lennox hoots.

Sara scrambles out of her chair and around the table and pulls Ava into a tight hug.

When she releases her, Millie is there taking her place.

Then it’s my turn. I pull my best friend into my arms. “I’m so happy for you.”

I truly am. Ava is such an amazing mom to the girls she and War adopted, and to Brayden, the teenage boy who isn’t legally theirs but might as well be. This child will be just as blessed as its three older siblings. Ava’s challenging childhood—War’s too—makes this even sweeter.

Ava squeezes me back. “Me too.”

“When are you due?” Millie asks.

“November seventh.”

“Wow,” I rasp, bringing a hand to my lips.

I’ve done the calculations, and if I’m correct, I’m due in January, which means Ava and I will be pregnant together. We’ll have kids the same age. Our children could grow up to be best friends, just like us. If I weren’t so emotionally stunted, maybe I’d share this information with the group.

“I’ve got news too,” Millie says.

“Oh no. Not you too,” I mutter without thinking. My chest constricts tightly. Shit. I’m not sure I can take another big announcement. This week has been full of surprises.

Sara snorts. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Millie shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “We’ve decided we want to try for another baby. I thought I wanted to wait until I was a bit older, but with Gavin being in his forties already?—”

“That sexy silver fox Hockey Daddy,” Lennox coos.

Millie giggles. “Yeah, that. And it might be nice for Vivi to have a sibling closer in age.”

Ava nods. “That’s how I felt. I love the idea of Scarlett and this baby only being three years apart.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you were thinking when you were begging War to bang you against the door.”

Ava turns a rosy pink and hisses, “Hannah.”

I laugh. “What? We all know how babies are made. Not one of you is innocent.”

Sara dances in her seat, one hand raised. “Guilty. But no babies for me anytime soon. Thank god we’ve got you, Han. We can always depend on you to be the fun auntie who drinks cocktails with us and talks about dirty sex.”

I hold up the glass of liquid I paid the server to make look like a dirty martini and dip my chin. “That’s me. The inappropriate auntie.”

And the in-denial future mom.