“Yeah, everything is good.”
“Okay, good. If you need anything, just say. We’re all here for you.”
“I appreciate it. I’m just…getting my head around it all.”
“Have you seen her?”
I can’t help the smile that twitches at my lips.
“Oh my god, you have? Are you hanging out with her?”
“Kinda. I don’t really know. We’re just…figuring it all out together.”
“Parker is going to be so excited. You’re telling her when she gets back, right?”
My stomach twists into tight knots. I might have somewhat gotten used to the idea that Bea is currently growing my child. But telling people…that seems entirely too real. Right now, despite knowing it’s happening, it almost feels like a dream.
But once everyone knows…once Bea starts showing…
Fuck. Then reality is going to hit.
“Y-yeah, I guess.”
“I want to say take your time, but there’s only going to be so much of that. How many weeks is she now?”
“Fifteen,” I mumble, feeling weird about the fact that I know exactly how many weeks pregnant Bea is and just how big our baby is and how it’s going to develop through the next seven days.
“Aw, listen to you. You’ve totally got this, Donnelly.”
“Here’s hoping, because it’s happening. I’m gonna go…” I point at Monroe as I walk away.
“Call me if you need anything. Either of you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” I say before getting the hell out of there before anyone can overhear us.
With my eyes focused on Monroe, I make my way across Kodie and Casey’s backyard, grabbing my shirt and slipping my feet into my sliders as I go.
“Hey, Marilyn,” I say as I step up to his lounger.
He takes a swig of beer before his eyes lift to mine.
They widen slightly, just like they always do when I talk to him. It’s as if he can’t believe I’d want to give him any attention.
I get it when I’m talking to kids. I’m living their dream, and they’re in awe. I remember looking at my dad and his teammates with the same look on my face. But Monroe is here. He’s just played his first year in the NHL, and not only that, but he smashed it. He’s got an incredible future ahead of him. There are millions of kids out there right now who would look at him with those eyes. But he can’t see it.
“You ready to head out?”
He looks back down at his beer before lifting it to his lips and draining what’s left.
“Yeah,” he mumbles before slowly climbing to his feet. “Oh shit,” he gasps as he trips over his own shoes.
“Easy,” I say softly, grabbing his upper arms to steady him. “I’ve got you.”
A manic kind of laugh erupts from him.
“Everett Donnelly’s got me,” he mutters to himself.
I smirk.
