“I’ll get things sorted out for you. When would you like this to commence?”
“Whenever our last game is, I’m done. Whether it’s when we win the World Series or lose in this final playoff run,” I tell him, mytone steady and confident. “I would like it to stay quiet, though. You can tell Coach Tran, but I don’t want my team to lose focus at all. And this news will throw them off.”
“Got it. I’ll make sure it’s confidential,” Andy replies, the sound of his keyboard clacking away in the background. “Now, go out there and win another World Series. Bring it home for the last time.”
I grin to myself at his words because while I may be retiring, I’m not doneyet.
So in the meantime, I’m going to play with everything I’ve got. To fight for another championship win and to give the fans one hell of an ending to my career.
It’s my love letter to the sport that gave me the life I always dreamed of, the one that eventually led me to the girl who changed my entire life.
Chapter 42
Teagan
Iwalk in the house from my lunch date with Ian. It’s something we used to do monthly, but lately has been happening weekly, either lunch or dinner. The increase due to the fact that I’m home more than I was while competing, on top of him also prioritizing his relationships more now.
I’ve been enjoying seeing him more and this new, more carefree side to him. Plus, things between him and Quentin have never been better, taking a huge weight off my shoulders.
So overall, life’s been really good lately.
My pregnancy has been moving along well too, my only issue being the back pain I’ve been getting. It’s finally not hurting today for the first time in a week, a win I’ll take these days.
Between my belly and my tits growing, I’m not sure which is to blame for the increase in pressure on my lower back lately. I’m just happy my days of nausea are over. The only symptoms I really have now is lower back pain, being hungry and horny twenty-four seven.
Quentin’s been giving me back rubs on the couch nightly, and it’s taken everything in me not to try to and have it go further than that.
There’s been a shift between us, and I don’t know exactly how platonic we are anymore. Between him taking care of me, our mini golf outing that seems like a date the more I think about it, and the smiles and gazes that linger more than they once did.
Add in our intimate moments and things don’t seem as clear-cut as before.
The need for him has always been there, and lately it’s been more potent than ever.
Seeing him talk to our daughter through my belly, finish setting up her room, or attending to me has me wanting to do unspeakable things to him. There’s something about seeing a man do manly things that is the biggest fucking turn-on.
But while that need has been poking at me, so have the reminders that this has the potential to end really badly.
If we try to make it work and it doesn’t, then what kind of life is that for our daughter? Tension-filled pick-ups and drop-offs, never doing family parties together, or celebrating holidays together.
Whereas right now, we can do all of those things with no hostility.
It’s why I’m grateful that we were interrupted on the couch that night. Because I was about to tell him that I want to try–being together, that is. I took it as a sign from the universe that I wasn’t meant to say those words and tucked them back into a mental box that I don’t plan on opening again.
Shaking off the thoughts, I make my way to the kitchen, noticing that Quentin’s office door is open and there are muffled voices.
I shouldn’t eavesdrop, I really shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I creep closer, being careful not to make a sound as I press my back against the wall near the open door.
“Thanks, Matheo. I’m excited to be a dad,” he tells him, who I’ve learned is his brother. I know they haven’t talked in a while ashe’s been off traveling through eastern Europe, going off the grid, so he must be telling him the news now.
Quentin believes the rest of the family is most likely aware because even though they don’t keep in contact, he has inside information that they still keep tabs on him and Camille.
“What’s the situation with the mom?” Matheo asks, his voice clear as he’s on speaker.
Quentin hesitates, taking a few seconds before responding.
“Nothing. We’re friends who will co-parent together,” is his monotone response.
And it pisses me off for whatever reason. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but…all I know is I don’t like that.
