The war raging in her head, the push and pull, was impossible to ignore. Every time we were alone, this happened. Like she was afraid to let her guard down around me. Like she didn’t want to risk having fun with me.
“Come on. A little shoot around,” I said, dribbling between my legs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I could get pregnant again,” she deadpanned.
I laughed, my chest loosening.
But hell if the idea of impregnating her again, on purpose, didn’t make my blood heat. That was a reaction I’d have to unpack later.
With a jut of my chin, I passed her the ball. She shot from the grass, making the move look easy.
“Damn.”
She cocked a brow. “I told you I was good.”
“Noted.”
We passed and dribbled, each taking shots. And yeah, she was good. I was a lot taller, but she shot so well it didn’t matter. Out here like this, she was different. More confident and open.
So I took a chance.
“How are you feeling?” I shot and missed, then had to chase the ball onto the front lawn.
She checked the monitor, then set it on the hood of my car. “I’m okay. It’s weird. I’m excited to go back to work but terrified of leaving Vincent.”
She shifted on her feet, as if debating whether to keep talking.
I gave her a minute. I’d learned with my sisters that sometimes the best thing I could do was be quiet.
“I’ve only been a mom for three months, but it already feels like my entire being has shifted.” She sighed. “It’s hard to remember my life before Vincent. But at the same time, I miss that version of myself. You know?”
The tightness returned to my chest. “I feel the same way.”
“You do?”
“Not the mom stuff, obviously, but it’s hard to remember my life before Vincent.” I raked a hand through my hair. “That version of me is fading away. I don’t want the same things anymore. I don’t think I even like the same things.”
She tipped her head and studied me. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”
Wincing, I shrugged. “Sorry.”
She waved off the apology. “No, I’m impressed. I thought it was just me. I feel like I exist on a totally different plane of reality. And honestly, part of me is excited to go back to the office. I miss it. And they’ve been so flexible and kind, giving me a part-time schedule and plenty of work-from-home hours.”
“But?”
“But can I still do my job?” she asked, her brows knitted. “Will I be good at it? Does professional Evie still exist?”
I took a step closer, wanting to touch her, to comfort her.
But I didn’t know the rules here. Did any even exist? Or was I just stumbling along without a playbook?
Taking a chance, I reached out and brushed her shoulder. “You’re going to be great. I saw you in that virtual meeting the other day. I was blown away by how articulate you were. You were locked in, even while rocking Vincent with your foot. If you can multitask like that, I doubt there’s much you can’t do.”
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. A tell, I’d recently learned, when I surprised her. Before I could process my small victory, she stole the ball from my hands and dribbled toward the net.
“One on one,” she declared, doing a perfect layup. “Clear it at the big crack over there.”
With a smile, she passed me the ball. She enjoyed this. Competition.
