Tears spill from my eyes as I watch them together, acting so damn familiar. How long has this been going on? A long while is the obvious answer by the way they’re interacting.
His hands roam her body, and they start kissing again, but this time it’s getting even more heated. He lifts her, and she wraps her legs around him.
Fuck this. I’m out of here.
With tears spilling from my eyes like a damn waterfall, I run out the front door to my car. Peeling out of the driveway, I begin to replay every conversation I’ve had with Fallon in the past six months.
She definitely asked about my parents a lot. She was always encouraging me to mend fences with my dad and spend time with him. Did he send her to manipulate me into reconciling with him? I’m so confused and so damn hurt by her betrayal. Another mother stabbing me right in the back. What have I done to deserve this? Am I that horrible of a person?
My car practically steers itself. There’s only one place I want to go right now. My safe space. The only true safe space I’ve ever known.
I pull into Daylen’s driveway. His Jeep is out front, so I know he’s home. Using his code, I walk inside and am immediately warmly greeted by BJ. She’s so gentle with me. It’s such a contrast to how she practically tackles Daylen when he walks into the house. It’s like she knows about the baby. Maybe she really is as smart as Daylen thinks she is.
I rub her ear as she nuzzles into my stomach lovingly. “Where’s Daddy?” I ask.
Oh god, now I’m talking to her like she understands me, just like Daylen does.
She motions her nose toward the stairs. Yep, she understands me. Genius dog.
I walk up the stairs and hear music. Naturally, it’s “Waterfalls,” and it makes me smile. Why does he love that song so much?
I know the answer, and it’s a sweet one.
Following the sounds, I make my way down the long hallway to one of the guestrooms. I can smell it’s freshly painted before I arrive at the doorway and see the new pretty pastel pink color on the walls. Painting supplies are piled in the corner over a plastic sheet.
There are a variety of pastel-colored basketballs and footballs stenciled on the wall with all types of animals. There are new built-in bookshelves filled with children’s books and other decorative knick-knacks. I can’t help but smile as I notice a mobile on the ground that has both tiny basketballs and tiny footballs hanging from it. He obviously had it custom made.
Looking to the other side of the room, I see a big ivory toy chest with a pink Beaver on the front, overflowing with toys. Dozens of stuffed animals fill the huge lavender and ivory striped rocking chair next to it.
And then I see him. My husband.
He’s on the ground with a screwdriver, assembling a crib. He’s mindlessly shaking his body and quietly singing the words to his favorite song as he reviews the instructions with determined focus.
The tears run afresh from my eyes as I watch him build our baby’s crib. He’s one of the highest paid players in the league. He can more than afford to have someone else do all this, but he wants to be the one to do everything.
My heart has never felt fuller in my life.
Only three words cross my mind right now. “I love you,” I state without a shred of doubt or regret.
His head snaps to me. “Oh shit. You said you had plans with your friends tonight. I didn’t want you to see this room until it was done. I wanted to surprise you.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t be mad. I know it’s early, but things get crazy once my season kicks into high gear, and I wanted to do it all myself.”
“I love you,” I again announce with a fresh wave of tears dripping down my cheeks.
As if hearing it for the first time, he smiles so damn big that I can’t help but let out a laugh through my tears. “You love me?” he asks. “Love-love or love that I’m assembling a crib?”
“All of it,” I answer without hesitation. “Every single thing about you.”
He places the screwdriver, instructions, and screws on the ground before standing and walking to me. His arms are open, about to embrace me, but his face falls drastically as he approaches. “What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”
I take his hand. “Can we go to the roof balcony and talk?”
He nods. “Of course. Is everything okay?”
I lean into him and bury my nose in his neck, taking in his familiar, comforting scent that wraps around me like a warm blanket. “It is now,” I breathe.
We silently walk up to the balcony and lie on the big circular lounger-sofa. I rest my head on his chest, needing to feel his arms around me like I’ve never needed anything else in my life.
Without hesitation, he indulges me and pulls me close to him. “What’s wrong?”
