Really, I would have.
But I doubled over as pain unlike anything I’d ever felt in my life hit me like a freight train.
“Oh, god,” I breathed shakily. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Weaver dropped down to his knee beside me and caught my face in his hands. “Come on we have to…”
“Too late,” I admitted.
“Too late for…”
“Someone get that tent over here,” Weaver went into drill sergeant mode. “Get it around her now.”
They had a tent that was surrounding the camera equipment in case it rained.
Now it was serving as the drapes that kept anyone from viewing my naked ass as Weaver all but tore my pants down my legs.
When he did, he looked stunned. Mostly because there was a baby’s head between my legs, hanging there for him to see.
“She, uh, has a lot of brown hair.”
I swallowed hard. “She does?”
“Yeah,” he croaked.
Then he reached out and caught her.
Two days later, we were finally at home and Weaver was at the kitchen counter reading the paper.
“You were in the paper, darlin’.”
I refused to look.
I was in the paper.
I was also in the national newspaper.
The news.
Every soccer website in existence.
“Is it next to the dead bear like it usually is?” I wondered.
“Not this time.” He chuckled. “Great photo of you, though. Look.”
I did, and saw the exhausted woman who was holding her baby to her chest, walking across a soccer pitch with a beach towel wrapped around her waist. Smiling huge and waving at the crowd that had nearly witnessed the entire birth live and in person. Weaver trailed behind looking freaked out. Then there was Bossy throwing her hands in the air celebrating double.
It was a good photo.
I’d give them that.
My phone rang and I picked it up absently, not checking the caller ID before placing it to my ear and saying, “Hello?”
“I know this is a crazy time,” Coach Addel said. “And congratulations on your baby. I loved seeing that.”
I groaned. “Not you, too.”
“It was awesome.” He laughed. “What a day and way to come into the world.”
