Lake only gives her a look, and Leighton waves her off.
My mom taps Lake’s leg. “They’re in love, let them be.”
“Back to the question of the hour…” Leighton whispers, secluding us in our own little conversation once more.
“You’ll find out after he does. You’ll be the first to know, I promise.”
I could tell her. She wouldn’t spill the secret until after, but for some reason, I feel like telling the father first is the right thing to do. Allow him to digest the information before we tell anyone else. After all, we got ourselves into this mess together.
Leighton balks and straightens her back. “Your brother has such a great ass. Last night in bed?—”
“Oh, so you’re gonna play dirty?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
She shrugs. Leighton knows I don’t want to hear the details of their sex life. Do I know they have sex? Of course, but I don’t want to hear about it. Immature? Maybe, but believe me, once my brother finds out who I conceived his niece or nephew with, he’s not going to want the details of my sex life either. Which, thinking about it, I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the locker room wall when this secret comes out.
Hayes throws a runner out at second, and our entire row gets on their feet, screaming and cheering for him.
“Did the baby daddy just tag that runner out?” Leighton whispers in my ear.
I shake my head. “Like I said, relentless.”
The game continues, and the best thing about her now being guardian to three kids is that her attention gets diverted a lot. The smart thing to do would have been to keep this news to myself until after I’ve told the father, but I was kind of freaking out. Me… pregnant? A mother? It’s hard for me to visualize, and I’m sure it will be for others as well. I’m not exactly Mary Poppins.
By the time we get to the eighth inning, the Colts are winning, but only by one run.
Taz is losing his cool on the mound. Hayes calls time and walks out to talk to him.
Two girls who haven’t been here the entire game stop beside the row in front of us, causing everyone to stand to allow them to pass.
Leighton and I glance at one another. We’ve seen women like them enough over the years. A player got them tickets. The question is who exactly? They definitely don’t fit in with the rest of the crowd with miniskirts so short I’m about to put my hand over Lincoln’s eyes. They’ve matched their skirts with tight crop tops that have their boobs spilling out.
Leighton leans in closer. “Aren’t they cold?”
“I’m pretty sure they prefer to be nippin’.”
“He told me as soon as the catcher guy talks to the pitcher, I should make sure I’m in my seat,” one woman says to the other one.
Leighton and I glance at each other again, and she mouths, “Who?”
I have a suspicion, and my body plays war with itself on whether I care if I’m right or wrong.
Hayes jogs back to home plate. Taz, being the dipshit he is, walks along the back of the mound and sets up.
“Oh, so… no then?” the one woman says to the other.
I’m really curious where they’ve been seated up until this point.
“These seats are so uncomfortable.” The other woman elbows the nice man to her right while trying to situate herself as if there’s a cushion out of place. “If he’s such a big deal, he couldn’t get you a suite?”
“He said he wanted me up front and center.” The blonde shrugs.
Taz walks the first runner, and it’s over for him in this game. Ripley steps out of the dugout, meeting the infield on the mound, and Taz puts the ball in his palm.
The minute Taz is in the dugout, the lights cut out in the stadium. My stomach swoops as if it’s in a stunt airplane.
The Jumbotron flashes ALL ABOARD! in bold, blinding letters as “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne plays and a train engine bursts from the shadows on the screen, wheels sparking as it barrels down tracks of pure lightning, racing straight toward the fans until it feels as if it might crash through the screen.
“Oh, is it…?” The blonde elbows her friend, whose attention is on her phone. “This is him, I think.”
