“Stop there,” he interrupted. “Libbie’s in a mood. It happens a lot and that’s when she misses Chan, I think, or the idea of Chan being there. She told me the other night that she didn’t really remember Chan anymore, and that upset her. But - Libs is also always quiet with new people, so don’t analyse how she was tonight. She’s the opposite of Zara.”
“They’re both really polite girls, Nate. You must be proud of them.”
“I am. Just like I’ll be proud of that one.” He nodded towards me, his eyes dropping to my belly. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay. Much better than a few weeks ago.” I fell quiet, his words from earlier echoing round my head. “Can I have a hug?” Tears pricked at my eyes as I said it. “I’m really sorry, but I just need–”
He was there before I finished the sentence, scooping me up onto his knee as he took the seat next to me, tucking me into his chest and for what felt like the first time in weeks, I relaxed. The tension in my shoulders fell away and my breathing became easier.
“Okay, I can do this all night, but I need to know what’s brought it on.” His tone was soothing, soft and oh so in control.
I swallowed, my tears having stopped quickly. “Genny isn’t a hugger. Neva is, but obviously, we’re not close at the moment, so it’s just been ages since I’ve had anyone close to me. I’m really tough as a person – my family are a bit high end dramatic, so I’ve had to be – but with this–” I put my hand on my belly. “I’ve just felt like I’ve been carrying a lot.”
He didn’t speak for a couple of minutes, just carrying on holding me, or hugging me, his lips occasionally brushing a kiss into my hair. It was so nice to be held, to have someone there holding me upright so I could let go.
“I don’t like that you’ve felt that way. What can I do so it doesn’t happen again?”
I tipped my head up at him. “Most men tell someone how to fix it. You ask. Why?”
He smiled again, that boyish grin that once again had my underwear feeling like it was being incinerated. “I know better than to tell you what to do unless we’re in bed.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think you need to do anything but be here. Like this.”
“How about more? Will you think about it?” There was need in his voice I hadn’t heard before.
“I already am thinking about it.” This time I initiated the kiss, just a quick one, with my ears on high alert for little footsteps because this wasn’t how I wanted his girls to find me.
“Good.” He broke the kiss. “Do you want to stay here tonight? Instead of driving home? The spare room is made up.”
I shook my head and climbed off his lap. “No, I’ll head home. Thank you for a lovely night.”
He stood up too, pulling me straight into another hug. “You’ll come back?”
“Yes.” I didn’t even need to think about it.
CHAPTER15
Nate
TWENTY WEEKS
We were backin the doctor’s treatment room again, Amber lying on the bed, her T-shirt tucked over her bra, and her sweats once again pulled down under the now prominent bump.
There was no denying she was pregnant.
For the last four weeks, I’d seen her every other evening, unless we were staying away for a match. She’d asked not to travel with us anymore, mainly because she didn’t always sleep well, and I knew she was finding morning’s tough. After training, she’d go home and nap, then most evenings she’d come over to my house, either before or after the girls had gone to bed.
Zara adored her and now asked where she was on nights when she wasn’t there. Libbie was wary. She was polite, and there had been a couple of evenings when she’d wanted Amber to listen to her read her book, but I couldn’t help but think that Libs was testing her in some way.
We were also getting to the point where Libbie was probably going to say something about Amber’s bump.
Today, we would possibly find out whether it was a Cupcake with blue frosting or pink.
I didn’t care either way, although I had thought about it. Another daughter would be great, and I was pretty sure Zara would love having a younger sister, but equally, I’d like a son. So as long as the baby was healthy – which was what most expectant parents said – that was all that mattered.
Gel was spread over Amber’s belly, the coldness of it making her laugh. I had hold of her hand this time, because in the last few weeks touching her had become the norm. The girls had seen me hug her, they’d seen me press a kiss to her cheek and stroke her back, subtle signs that we were more than friends – or could be more than friends.
“You okay?” I squeezed her hand.
