“Sweetheart,” June said, “that’s exactly what he meant.”
Jo nodded sagely. “Let the man fulfill his promise. It’s a win-win.”
Bella glanced up from her phone just long enough to add, “Statistically, sex during pregnancy is safe.”
Et tu, Bella?
I covered my face with both hands, laughing despite myself. “You guys are awful.”
“Awfully smart,” Kaylani said, leaning back with a Cheshire catlike grin.
The idea was more than a little tempting.
Brooks and I had been there before—manytimes—his lips on my skin, his tattooed fingers wrapped around my throat, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. And it had been good.
Every. Fucking. Time.
So good, in fact, that it didn’t have to mean anything. After all, we had messed around for months without it being anything more. At least, that was the lie I kept trying to sell myself.
Then again, nothing about Brooks was simple, and pretending otherwise was just asking for trouble. Sleeping with him now, in the middle of all . . . this, could turn into a full-blown mess before I even had time to catch my breath. I had more than myself andmyfeelings to think about now.
Mama’s little parasite deserved their father. I wasn’t going to jeopardize their relationship just because I couldn’t control my libido.
No, the safer plan was to keep my distance, to ride out this hormone surge until my body stopped behaving like a sex-starved maniac. That meant no more late-night texts, nomore lingering looks across the dugout, anddefinitelyno more fantasizing about riding his cock in that ridiculously big leather chair in his office, the one that looked like it belonged to a mob boss instead of a baseball coach.
I shook the thought from my head just in time for June to lean forward, eyes sparkling. “So, Kaylani, how exactlyareyou and Ryan doing it? And please, be as detailed as possible.”
Jo clapped his hands. Nessa leaned in, hot dog forgotten. Even Bella tilted her head with mild interest.
Kaylani grinned sheepishly. “Well, there was this one time where I was on my side—”
And just like that, the first fifteen minutes of the game became a crash course in pregnancy sex positions, complete with hand gestures, questionable metaphors, and more than one double entendre that eventually made the family in the row ahead of us turn around.
Brooks
Roasters 28–19
It was a wonder that there weren’t more pregnant bodybuilders.
Between the gear, the gadgets, and the random “must-haves” that promised to make life easier while simultaneously making your load heavier, it was like training for a fucking strongman competition.
Without the glory of a medal, no less.
Mothers didn’t get half the trophies, pay raises, or standing ovations they deserved—hell, they were lucky if anyone even noticed they were carrying the whole damn team on their backs.
The package in my arms was big enough to block half my view of the cobblestone path leading up to Dani’s townhouse, but that didn’t slow me down. I had scored the holy grail of maternity gear: a U-shaped pillow the size of a small canoe, with enough fluff to swallow her whole. According to theBaby Bumps and Lumpssubreddit, which, as of late, had become my how-to guide, it wasthepregnancy pillow of all pregnancy pillows, andI could believe it. I had gone to four different stores to find the damn thing.
Hell, I had nearly bought one for myself. The damn thing had nearly swallowed me whole when I’d tested it out at the store. It was like napping inside a cloud. If the new maternity pajamas I’d nabbed for her felt half as soft, I might need a set of those, too.
Dani had recently mentioned in passing that her skin had been extra sensitive lately, so I’d gone down a three-hour internet rabbit hole until I’d found the kind every mom-to-be blog swore by.
Some might’ve called it overkill, but I called it giving a damn.
I climbed the front steps to her and Pink’s townhouse, careful not to scuff the box against the railing, and reached for the doorbell.
“You just missed her,” a soft voice muttered from behind me.
I turned to find a twenty-something woman standing in the narrow strip of grass between the side-by-side townhouses. Her chocolate-brown hair had been pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder that fell nearly to her waist.
