“How could I not?” he counters. “You practically knocked over a few guests to get away from me.”
I stifle my laughter. “I did not.”
My expression sobers when I notice the serious look he’s giving me.
“If I knew then what I know now, I would’ve never said it,” he says. “I’m sorry you overheard that.”
His face is so genuine, his eyes imploring me to believe him. A tugging in the pit of my stomach makes me want to lean in and brush my lips against his, to let him know it’s okay.
I can’t do that, of course.
“You’re focused on your career,” I say, hoping it conveys my forgiveness. “As you should. From what I hear you’re one of the best.”
Again, I’ve said more than I intended. Through work, I’ve learned more about the sport that Travis competes in. It’s obvious from the way my coworkers speak of him that his name garners a lot of respect.
“I can’t claim that title yet,” he counters. His gaze drops and he looks back toward the infants. “But I damn sure will soon,” he says fiercely, turning back to me. This time his eyes are on my belly. “Now, I have an even bigger reason to claim my spot at the top.”
A tiny thrill rushes through me at the determination in his voice. I’ve learned enough to know Travis is competing for thechampionship. I get the impression he feels as if he’s not good enough—worthy enough until he’s earned that spot.
I hold back from telling him that waiting until you hit some elusive goal to feel worthy can be a fruitless endeavor. I know better than most that life can be flipped upside down within a matter of minutes.
Everything you once knew as solid ground liquified, destabilized.
“The here and now is what’s important,” is what I find myself saying, drawing his attention back to my eyes. “It’s all anyone can firmly rely on.”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me. I unconsciously lift my hand to my right shoulder and begin massaging it. Travis watches my movements silently, observing. Typically, I can’t stand being underneath the scrutiny of anyone.
Right here in the middle of this hospital, with the man I’m having a child with, I don’t mind it … as much.
“Travis, Alyssia?” the woman leading our tour calls. “This way.” She holds out an arm toward where the rest of our group have walked on.
Travis—and I don’t believe he thinks about it before he does it—grabs my hand, leading me to catch up with the rest of our fellow tourists.
“What about you?” he asks after a few beats of silence between us. “Did you ever think about having kids?”
I glance down at my not-so-flat stomach, marveling at the change that’s already occurred before answering.
“Not really.” I push out a heavy breath. “I mean, I went through periods of expecting it to happen, then not wanting any kids, and then kind of not thinking about it.
“None of my previous exes interested me enough that I envisioned having children with them.” It’s like once I starttalking my mouth moves before my brain has time to stop it and shut it up.
Why would I start a discussion about my ex-boyfriends with Travis?
He chuckles. “Me either, to be honest.” Then he looks over at me, pulling my hand. “Is that why you don’t want to know the gender?”
“What do you mean?”
A seriousness invades his eyes. “Is not finding out the gender a way to keep this less real for you?”
The question isn’t laced in judgement. He’s curious, wanting to know what’s going on in my mind.
I squirm a little in the way I often do when I feel someone trying to prod at the inner workings of my mind. I conclude it must be the extra hormones coursing through my body that has me opening up, where I typically would’ve pivoted the conversation at such a direction question.
“I don’t want to put any preconceived notions on this baby.”
His eyebrows wrinkle.
“As soon as you tell people you’re having a girl, they’ll want to start buying pink this and pink that. Not to mention all of a sudden it’ll become ‘aww, mama, you get to have a mini me.’”
