I stand. My vision wavers for a moment, and before I know what’s happening, Quentin has one hand wrapped around my arm and the other on my hip. My eyes shoot up to his, my breath hitching in my throat at the proximity.
This always happens if I stand up too quickly, and it doesn’t help that I haven’t eaten much these past few days because of this constant stupid nausea. God, I hope it gets better after I’m past this first trimester.
“Okay, you need to sit down,” he demands, yet his eyes give away the panic he’s feeling.
I shake him off and stand up straight. “I’m fine. I think I got up too fast, that’s all. Let’s go.”
“Teagan,” he admonishes with a groan as he follows me out of my office.
I turn around to face him, crossing my arms under my chest. “Yes?”
“You need to be more careful. What if you had fallen over or something?”
My shoulders lift in a shrug. “That didn’t happen, so let’s not focus on the negatives. Am I right?”
He gives me a deadpan look. “Not funny,” he grumbles.
With a sigh, I give him a pat on the shoulder for reassurance. “Look, baby daddy. I’m a renowned world champion. I’ve pushed my body to limits most athletes can’t even reach, and I’ve taken care of myself my entire life. I’m simply tired and stood up too fast. Of course Blueberry’s safety is important to me. Hell, I’ve stopped my skills training because of it. But I’m not going to walk around on eggshells. I’m pregnant, not dying.”
“I’m sorry,” Quentin says on a swallow. “I can be…protective.”
I chuckle at that. “You think?”
“Sometimes it can be a lot, but when I care about someone, I’m all in. I’ll try not to act like you’re too fragile to do anything, but I won’t stop worrying,” he says with finality, a brisk tone to his voice that sends a shiver down my spine.
“I appreciate that. Now let’s go check on our little Blueberry,” I say with a smile, trying to get the sad puppy dog look off his face.
It works marginally, the corners of his lips lifting slightly as he falls into step with me. We walk in what I think is a comfortable silence through campus. I’m not worried about anyone seeing us, as there is a confidentiality clause for anyone who works or attends school here.
We’re nearly out of the building when we run into Nicole Walsh. I usually bump into the golfer after my morning class every day where we chat for a few minutes before we’re off to our nextclass. I wouldn’t say we’re friends necessarily, but it’s nice to talk to someone who gets what it’s like to be freshly retired.
Even if I’m just pretending to be.
“Hey, Teagan.” She smiles at me, then shifts her gaze to Quentin with a raised brow, a look of interest on her face. “Who’s this?”
I’m about to answer when a loud cackle leaves her mouth. She slaps a hand on his shoulder, as if they’re long-lost friends. “I’m joking. Of course I’m aware of who the number one pitcher in the country is. It’s nice to officially meet you, Quentin. I’m Nicole and a huge fan.”
Something thick and heavy wraps around my chest as I watch the interaction, the feeling akin to annoyance.
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you,” he says kindly, his gaze not at all how he looked at me that night at the bar. All I see is a polite smile, and I chide myself for feeling victorious.
“The pleasure is all mine,” She winks, giving me the sudden urge to claw her eyes out. Because while I want nothing to do with the man other than co-parent together, I don’t want Blueberry to have a stepmom so soon.
“We have to get going,” I cut in, doing my best to give her a smile that is believable, but also not really caring if it isn’t.
We’re nearly to my car when Quentin chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, coming to a stop.
“You.” He smirks as he slows down next to me. “She’s married.”
“That matters because?” I grumble, annoyed at where I know this is going.
“You were jealous.”
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t jealous. I’d just rather not involve someone else in our situation right now.”
“Are you asking me to be exclusively single?” he clarifies with one brow raised.
