“Friends?” She gives me a yeah right look.
“Yes.” I place my hand on her arm to reassure her.
Sure, I have my own qualms about this arrangement, but after the baby comes, let’s be honest, my life won’t be mine for a good long while. I won’t be out dating or trying to meet guys I might have a future with. And I’ve learned that hope is what leads to heartbreak. I won’t hope that Foster will change, so I’ll be just fine.
“I’m not sure?—”
“I’ll be fine. I swear. I mean, Foster Davis isn’t one to give false hope, so he won’t be doing any sweet little boyfriend things. It’s strictly about getting one another off. Enjoying ourselves until the responsibility for caring for this little one takes over.” I rest my hand on my abdomen.
She’s not saying anything, but I can read her expression. I don’t really want to hear her doubts, so I change the subject.
“Did I tell you I’m in stretch waist pants now?” I run my hands down my abdomen, pulling my shirt tight so she can see the swell of my belly.
“Oh, Callie!” Her hand goes to my stomach. “You’re showing.”
“Barely, but yeah… every time I walk by a mirror, I stare at it. A human is in there. Isn’t that crazy?”
She laughs and puts her arms around me. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
“I can wait for the delivery because now I’m thinking about how he or she has to come out. There’s no turning back. Another reason to sleep with Foster—my vagina might never be the same after I deliver this baby.”
She squeezes me. “You’ll be fine. Many women have gone before you.”
“Says the labor and delivery nurse.”
We both laugh, and even though Leighton doesn’t agree with my plan, I feel lighter having talked to her. It’s been a while since the two of us have been able to connect. There’s nothing like a little girl time to put a smile on your face.
We eventually go back down to our seats. Foster comes in the game in the ninth for the last two outs. He keeps looking up at the stands, and there’s no way he’s making sure I’m here. He never even asked if I was coming.
He ends up walking a runner, then giving up a double. The outing isn’t going well, and he’s stopped glancing up here altogether. The next guy pops out to Decker. And then Foster strikes out the last batter, ending the game, the Colts winning by two.
“Good way to start the series against Colorado,” I say.
Leighton talks to a few of the fans around us.
As we file onto the stairs to make our way up, a woman touches my arm. “Callie Carlisle?”
She’s sweet-looking. Roughly my height, a little over average for a woman. A brunette with her hair cut short, but it’s her eyes that tell me who she is.
“Hi, my name is Angela… Angela Davis.”
I have no choice but to stay next to her the whole time we climb the stairs.
“I’m Decker and Foster’s?—”
“Mom. He has your eyes.”
She nods, and tears well in those eyes that match the blue of her son’s. I know absolutely nothing about their situation other than Foster moved away with his dad when he was eleven.
“I just wanted to”—her gaze falls to my stomach—“say congratulations. I heard the news, and Decker confirmed it. I’m not sure?—”
Leighton is waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I’m not sure if she sees something in my face or not, but she swoops in, putting her arm through mine. “We should get going.” She smiles sweetly at Angela. “Sorry to steal her away.”
It’s a typical thing we do when people find out we’re the family of one of the players and a fan of the team wants to chat for too long.
“Um… are you here visiting?” I’ve never seen Angela, but I didn’t come to a lot of games last year since I was on my podcast tour.
“I’m thinking about moving here,” she says. “So, you two go. I’m sure I’ll see you around again.”
