“You deserve someone amazing to be the father to that baby, someone who can keep his shit together and be there for you. Not…me.”
I frown at his words, the way he’s refusing to meet my eyes. He wants to do this, but he doesn’t think he deserves me or this baby? I sit down and prop the phone against my laptop and lean in so he can see me clearly.
“Trick, I want you to listen to me. Hey, look at me.” His eyes swing to mine and there’s something more than fear and panic I can’t identify. “You are not obligated to do this with me, okay? If this scares you, I understand. I didn’t tell you about the baby so you’d take responsibility for them. Or us. I told you so it wouldn’t be a surprise down the line. We’re going to be in each other’s lives because of Vera and Elias.”
I cringe at how ridiculous I sound and Patrick nods, oblivious to my own turmoil.
“What if I’m not a good father? I’ve been googling and thinking about this for hours and I’m not sure you made the right choice with me.”
I want to ask him who he thinks would be a better choice? And better yet, why does he think I had a choice with him? The truth is, if I was to get accidentally knocked up and have a kid with someone, I’d pick Patrick Joseph. We don’t know the adult versions of each other and it’s going to take us some time to navigate, but I remember the boy I once loved. He cared about people he barely knew and was so gentle with me. I know he’s an incredibly gifted athlete and his generosity has extended to helping underprivileged kids. He would put his family first every single day and lay down his life for them in a heartbeat.
What he doesn’t know is even though I was ready to kill him at the beach house, when I saw him, my heart practically leaped. She was ready to jump back into his arms, like we hadn’t been apart for twenty years or that he ripped her to shreds.
“You’re my only choice, Trick.”
He blinks once, twice and gapes at me.
“I know this is scary and trust me, I’m feeling all those feelings too. I don’t even need to meet your father to know you’ll turn out really great too. You’re still the generous, kind, big hearted boy from camp. You’re a pain in my ass, but you’re a good person. You’re the best person and our kid is so lucky to have you as their father.”
Patrick swallows and bobs his head in a gentle nod. He exhales loudly and dips his gaze, before his deep voice echoes through my soul. “I think I’m the lucky one.”
The corner of my mouth ticks up in a smile and he notices. His face transforms as he returns it. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. I clear my throat and blink back tears that have been hovering at the edges this whole call.
“Win me that medal.”
“Every win has been for you,” he rumbles and I bite my lip hard. “Thank you, Tamara. For calling me back, for helping me through this.”
“Can’t have my baby daddy mess up on the field can I?”
A low growl reaches me and my core clenches. “Say it again, Lotus.”
“Goodbye, Patrick. Good luck today.”
“Bye, baby. I’ll see you soon.”
Before he can call me any more nicknames and terms of endearment to make my defences crumble and my body react, I hang up. I lean back in my chair, hands pressed to my face. Damn this man and the whiplash he’s putting me through. I allow myself a few minutes to catch my breath, then gather my things for my next meeting.
We’re in the second quarter and the score is 0-0, but of course someone on the Indian team fouls and Spain gets a free hit. I’m sure if I ask Patrick, he’ll sit me down with a drawing and explain it in excruciating detail. My mouth twitches into a smile and I catch myself, pressing my lips together to keep it at bay.
Everyone groans when Spain makes the goal and I sigh. Since the whole Thomas clan and Elias know about the pregnancy, nobody’s asked why I’m so quiet. But I still see them sneaking glances at me. All assurances that I’m fine have been accepted with disbelieving nods, so I stopped saying anything. Instead of the multiple glasses of wine I usually consume, I’ve got a large mug of tea that’s helping me stay awake and keeps the nausea at bay.
“Tamara, are you okay?” Tessammai asks as she settles onto the sofa beside me.
I lean into her and she wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Been a long week and I’m really tired.”
“You work too hard,” she says for the millionth time. All of us—her kids, as she calls us—work too much and too hard.
“You sound like Velliamma,” I tease and she swats me playfully.
“One day you’ll sound like me, and I’ll remind you of this.”
I laugh and kiss her cheek, leaning away as she gets up to return to her husband. I glance at them and smile, loving how open they are with their affection. On the other side, Vera and Elias hold hands as they stare at the TV screen intently. I’m so glad she found her person, because if there’s anyone in this world who deserves all the good things, it’s my cousin.
With my hand on my stomach, I turn to the TV in time to see Patrick score a goal. The living room erupts, but I stay seated. My lips, however, have finally given up the fight and curve upwards. We’re tied with Spain and they have the opportunity to win it all. In the third quarter, the captain scores a goal, giving the team the boost they need. Thanks to the second goal, the tension is high and I’m leaning forward as I watch the defenders block every attempt and shot, moving around the Spaniards skilfully. No matter how many times I’ve watched the matches, it’s mind-boggling to see grown ass men moving so fluidly across the turf.
When the final whistle blows, signalling the end of the game and India’s big victory, I get to my feet as everyone hugs each other. My tummy twists and I know it’s my anxiety, but I’d like to think my baby is happy for their dad too. The team is on the pitch and it’s a blur of white and blue as they all celebrate.
Me
