We didn’t speak much over the weekend. Honestly, we aren’t big texters. Communicators, yes, but if you go through our messages, there are probably days without a message to each other—especially since he’s in the off-season. Cooper and I call each other if we need to talk.
This weekend, I sent him a few photos—a couple of beach bikini selfies, a few nudes at his request. That was the extent of our messages. If Jordan and Elliot sent him any, I don’t know about them.
“Thank you.” I move my mouth against his.
An hour later, I walk into the kitchen. It’s decked in the aroma of grilled salmon and veggies.
“Mmmm. Smells good,” I fib, gritting my teeth at a wave of nausea.
“You smell good.” Cooper buries his nose in the crook of my neck. He places an open-mouth kiss on my sensitive skin before nipping at it. I let out a whimper. His hands are on my waist, guiding me to the counter. They slip under my thighs, picking me up and setting me on the counter near where he’s whipping up homemade protein mac and cheese. Cooper is on the addprotein to everything kick. We have this dish at least three times a week during the off-season, but I don’t care.
I recount my bachelorette trip to him. His sister and Iris, one of our college friends, only danced on two tables, a new record low for them. Elliot forgot to put sunscreen on one part of her thighs and has the weirdest burn. Molly mothered us all. Meave surprised me on day two—she wasn’t going to be able to attend because of an art show, but she flew out right after. Jake, Dawson’s now husband, came and made the best beach cocktails—at least that’s what I was told! My mocktail was great, though.
In the middle of my stories, Cooper plates dinner, and we move to the table to eat. He catches me up on his weekend. Chase was recently traded to his team, and they spent the weekend playing video games and touring apartments.
After dinner—the only thing I was able to touch was the pasta and a minor bite of salmon—we find ourselves back in a position that got us pregnant in the first place. Cooper’s naked body crawls over mine on the couch. He hovers over me, his elbows digging into the cushions next to me.
“You have new freckles.”
I giggle. “How can you tell?”
He gives me a cocky smirk. “Superpowers.” I roll my eyes at him, and his smirk grows. “They’re one of my favorite parts of you, so I just know.” He plants a kiss on my lips, then another. Cooper starts trailing kisses down my jaw, to my neck, and then chest. Leaning on his right arm, he uses the left to trail a finger down my stomach.
It lingers there.
“Sooooooo.”
“So,” I parrot.
“When were you going to tell me you’re pregnant?”
My mouth falls open. Silently, I’m cursing Jordan and Elliot.
Cooper tugs something out from underneath the couch. It’s the toddler-sized jersey I custom ordered. Thirty-six printed on the back with DADDY in place of his last name. I didn’t expect expedited shipping to be this fast. Two days? With production, too?
“When did that come in?” A tear that I tried to blink away sneaks out.
“While you were asleep.”
“It’s for?—”
He cuts me off not buying my bullshit. “Are we pregnant?”
“Yes,” I whisper, “we are.”
“Seriously?” I can’t tell if he’s excited or upset or?—
“I found out at my bachelorette party.”
“That means you’re”—his eyes find the ceiling as he counts backward—“seven or eight weeks?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be good at math? I’m five, maybe six, weeks.” I take the jersey from his hands, run the tips of my fingers over the letters and numbers before placing it on the back of the couch. “Are you upset?”
“Upset?” He looks caught off guard by the question. “Why would I be upset?”
“This wasn’t part of our plan.” Another tear sneaks out and kiss wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.
“Having a family with you, Sutton, was always part of my plan.”
