Halo Violation: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read online

  “That’s so sweet...”

  I absolutely cannot wait to meet Mama Wenzel.

  “Anyway, I should let you get changed.”

  Once he leaves the room, I swap my sweater for the hospital gown. Then I slip the necklace over my head and climb up onto the table just as the door opens. Eric comes back into the room, closely followed by an older woman wearing a lab coat.

  She introduces herself as Lydia and after the requisite small talk, we get right down to business. Lydia squeezes a dollop of clear gel onto my rounded belly. It looks like a dollop of toothpaste, but OMFG. It is cold!

  “Eek!” I turn to Eric, whose huge smile fades instantly.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. That stuff’s cold, though.”

  He rolls his eyes and reaches for my hand. I’m okay with this. Sure, we’re trying to keep things plutonic, but this is a huge moment for us. It’s not like I’m thinking about how amazing it felt when his hands were all over my body.

  Oh, great. Now I’m thinking about how amazing it felt when his hands were all over my body.

  Lydia switches on the monitor hovering over the table, and then she reaches for the wand and places it on the lump of gel. She moves it around a little and suddenly the room is filled with the sound with the baby’s frantic heartbeat.

  I gasp.

  It’s so hard to believe I’m actually listening to the sound of my baby’s heart pumping away. Eric gives my hand a squeeze. I turn to him and we exchange a smile as Lydia moves that wand around on my belly.

  “Here we go. That’s your baby up on the screen.”

  I can’t take my eyes off of the mysterious image on the screen. Lydia uses her free hand to point out the baby’s feet, and the hands. She’s got the most adorable profile I’ve ever seen. Her nose is just too cute. I can’t believe I’m actually looking at her. This is the most profound moment of my entire life to date.

  “Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” Lydia asks.

  “Yes,” we answer as one.

  “It’s a boy.”

  “Awesome!” Eric says.

  “Wait, what?”

  “You’re carrying a baby boy,” Lydia says with a wide smile.

  That doesn’t make any sense. I was 100% positive it was a girl.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Absolutely,” she says, her smile fading just a bit. She points to the screen. “See here? That’s his little penis.”

  I don’t see anything that faintly resembles a penis, but I figure she’s got a whole lot more experience with this sort of thing than I do, so I take her word for it.

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Were you hoping for a girl?” she asks.

  There is no trace of a smile on her lips now.

  “What? No.”

  And then it occurs to me that she thinks I’m disappointed by the news. Which I’m not. I’m really not.

  “Boy or girl, I just want the baby to be healthy,” I assure her. “But I could have sworn it was a girl. I really, really thought it was. I don’t know why. I just felt it.”

  She nods. “It happens.”

  “I knew it,” Eric says as we’re leaving the medical imaging facility.

  “I knew it,” he says, swinging his keys in his hand as we head through the parking lot to his brand new SUV. “Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I say it was going to be a boy?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

  Rolling my eyes, I try to think of a clever comeback, but in the end I decide to let it go. I want Eric to have this moment. Maybe someday, years from now, this will be a funny story to share with our son.

  20. ERIC

  I swear. Sometimes I don’t understand Molly O’Neil at all. The whole reason I bought the Navigator was to make life easier for the both of us. We made arrangements to go apartment hunting today and I assumed she’d be happy to let me pick her up in Bronxville and chauffeur her back to Manhattan, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Don’t be silly!” she said when I spoke to her this morning. “It’s only a half an hour ride on the Metro North. I’ve done it a million times.”

  “But wouldn’t it be nice to sit back and relax while I drive you into the city?”

  “That doesn’t make any sense at all, Eric. Don’t worry! I’ll take the train in. It’ll be fine.”

  I knew better than to push it. I’d finally convinced her to look for places on the East Side of Manhattan, north of Houston. When we first talked about where she wanted to live, she was firm about not wanting to be too close to my place on the Upper East Side.

  Don’t ask me why she felt like it was important to keep a distance between our two apartments. Like I said, there’s a lot about this chick that I don’t understand.

  But I pointed out to her that it would make sense in terms of logistics for us not to be too far from each other. What if there was a subway strike? A nor’easter? A city-wide blackout? I’d feel a lot better knowing that my baby son was within a reasonable walking distance if some shit went down and I needed to get to him.

  I refused to back down, and after a while, she agreed to look at rentals in Gramercy Park. I took the liberty of getting in touch with a real estate agent who specializes in properties in the area, and I’m hoping she’ll decide on one of them and go ahead and sign a lease so we can cross that off the list.

  So here I am, standing in front of Hudson News in the main concourse of Grand Central Terminal. Molly’s train pulled in a few minutes ago, so she should be coming up those stairs any second now.

  And here she is, just as beautiful as always. She spots me right away and we start making our way towards one another. When I take her in my arms, I feel the baby bump pressing up against my abs and I think of my son. Less than four months from now I’ll get to meet him, and I can hardly wait.

  “Hey. How was the ride down here?” I ask.

  “Good. I got some reading done, which was nice. I have to get through The Histories of Herodotus in its entirety by Monday.”

  Hmm.

  She sounds stressed. I take a closer look and find that she’s got dark circles under her eyes. Is Molly overextending herself? I fucking hope not. That can’t be good for the baby.

  “What?” she says, giving me a suspicious look.

  I motion for her to hand over her backpack. She does so without protest and I sling it over my shoulder.

  “You sound like you’re stressed out,” I tell her as we start making our way towards the 42nd Street exit. “Why don’t you slow things down a bit or maybe take some time to recharge?”

  Her eyes go wide. “Are you kidding me? Graduation is in less than a month, and before that, I’m facing the most gruelling and intensive conference week of my entire college career. This is not the time to be lollying about. Believe me. Plenty of time for that after graduation.”

  “But what about the baby?”

  “The baby is fine.”

  “Molly...” I sigh. God, she can be so annoying sometimes. “You have to take care of yourself. It’s not just about you anymore.”

  She gives me the stink eye and says, “Give me a break, would you? The baby is fine. Women have been giving birth since the dawn of humanity. You should be glad I’m not working in a cotton field under a boiling hot sun or in a crowded, disease-ridden workhouse.”

  What the hell is she even talking about?

  I search her face for some kind of clue, but she only bursts into a smile.

  “Don’t be such an old lady. Seriously.”

  Despite my best efforts, I have to laugh. I’m pretty sure nobody has ever accused me of being an ‘old lady’ before.

  I’m going to try to let this go and not worry about Molly’s intensive course load. Anyway, she’s right. It’ll all be over in less than a month.

  “So, I talked to my dad about graduation,” she says as we walk through the doors to 42nd Street.

  I reach into my pocket for my phone and open the Ly
ft app.

  “Did you?”

  “I did. And he’s cool with you coming.”

  “What?” I stop in the middle of ordering a car and look up at her. “No way. Are you serious?”

  “I’m totally serious. I pointed out you’re going to be a permanent part of all our lives. We’re going to see you at birthdays, graduations, school plays, spelling bees, science fairs, little league games or whatever. Dad grumbled a bit, but he eventually agreed with me when I said it would be nice to get a bit of practice in with being civil before the baby is old enough to wonder why Grandpa isn’t very nice to Daddy.”

  “No kidding...”

  She does make a good point. I hate to say it, but I was sort of hoping Coach would throw a fit and I’d have to miss Molly’s graduation. I have no desire to crash the family event and endure the attitude I’d get from Coach and possibly Mrs. O’Neil and Beth. I’m pretty sure Tricia’s cool with me.

  But Molly is right. We’re in it for the long haul here, and the last thing I’d want is for my kid to feel uncomfortable when it comes to family dynamics.

  “So, you’ll come?” Molly asks.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Awesome.”

  We head across town to meet up with Jack, the realtor I’ve been speaking with, and he takes us to a couple of really nice vacant properties in Gramercy Park. The first one has a skylight in the breakfast room and a shared garden space in the back. The second has original crown molding and access to the roof deck. But it’s the third one that Molly really falls in love with. The living room windows have stained glass detail and intricate metal work. There are antique light fixtures throughout the whole apartment. The wood flooring has a dark stain, but the high ceilings keep the place feeling roomy. With plenty of original detailing, a balcony and a view of the park, this place is perfect for Molly and the baby.

  “I shudder to ask,” she says. “How much is the rent?”

  Jack glances over at me and I give him a very, very discreet nod.

  “As a matter of fact, this apartment is priced way below market value. It’s listed at two point five a month,” he says.

  Molly’s jaw drops. “What? Yeah, right.”

  “No, I assure you. That’s the price. You’d only be on the hook for twenty-five hundred a month if you leased this apartment.”

  She stares at him for a long while before turning to me and then back to him.

  “Are you trying to mess with me or what? Why would anyone lease an apartment for like half of what they could get?”

  “It’s actually very simple,” Jack says. “The owner is one of those eccentric billionaire types. He’s elderly and he has no heirs, so he can afford to be generous. The only instructions he gave me in regards to leasing this place is that I should only show it to potential tenants who I felt were deserving—good people who could use a helping hand.”

  I cannot believe how easily the lies flow from his lips. Yesterday on the phone, I told him if Molly really fell in love with one of the places, I wanted him to claim the rent is only half of what it actually is. I told him I would cover the rest. I figured he’d say something vague about rent control and rare opportunities. I didn’t have any idea he’d construct this whole story about a billionaire with a heart of gold.

  But whatever works...

  I know it’s kind of shitty of me to pull the wool over Molly’s eyes like this. The thing is she’s been adamant that she wouldn’t accept any help from me when it comes to rent. She says I’m more than welcome to help pay doctor bills and to buy toys and clothes and stuff, and later to help pay for summer camp and braces and a college education. Things like that. But when it comes to her rent, she’s determined to handle that on her own.

  Sadly, her maximum budget—which is right around $2500 a month—won’t pay for anything more than a crappy little hovel in Gramercy Park. Hell, she’ll be hard pressed to find anything decent in all of Manhattan for that price. She’d have to compromise quality or safety or both, and I’m sorry, but my son is not going to be growing up in some roach-infested hovel, falling asleep to the sound of gunshots and police sirens.

  Having bought Jack’s story, Molly lights up like a firefly.

  “Oh my god, Eric. Can you believe this?”

  “It’s incredible. That’s for sure. You have to apply for this place.”

  “Hell yeah, I will!”

  As Jack sorts through his briefcase, pulling out the paperwork for Molly to fill out, my phone buzzes, alerting me to an incoming call. It’s Derek Adams. Since Molly is preoccupied, I go ahead and answer the call.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “Dude, you have to come out tonight!”

  “Yeah?” I walk across the living room and down the hall to the bigger of the two bedrooms so I can have a little privacy. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Huge bash tonight at Max Brumfield’s loft in Chinatown. Tons of people are going to be there, including the new crop of Victoria’s Secret models. You have to come.”

  Damn, that sounds like fun. I haven’t been to a party in ages, and I have to say, the idea of partying with a bunch of Victoria’s Secret models is pretty fucking tempting. I haven’t gotten laid in months. As a matter of fact, the last time was with Molly. Holy shit, that was five months ago. Five months is way too long for a normal, red-blooded American guy who’s in his physical prime to go without having sex. It’s fucking tragic, really.

  I should go to the party. I have every right to. And what’s more, I have every right to go home with a Victoria’s Secret model if that’s what I want. Molly has been clear about not wanting to start up anything romantic with me, which leaves me free to get with somebody else.

  Why do I feel like I’m trying to convince myself here?

  “Hello?” Derek says.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I was distracted.”

  “So, are you going to come?”

  I hesitate for a moment before saying, “Maybe. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it, but I’ll try.”

  “Dude, what the fuck?” He laughs. “What have you been doing with yourself lately, and why have you dropped out of circulation?”

  I shake my head and give a little chuckle. “It’s fucking complicated, man.”

  “Oh. Well, anyway, you should come tonight. It’ll be awesome.”

  He’s right, I know. Of course it’ll be awesome, and yeah, I really should go. It’d do me good to hang out with my friends and flirt with some sexy girls. Once we’re done here, I’ll send Molly back to Grand Central in a Lyft and go back home to start getting ready for the party.

  After ending the call, I head back into the living room where Molly and Jack are just wrapping things up.

  “I’ll run everything by the landlord, but I’m sure there won’t be a problem. You should have the keys by May the first.” Jack says.

  “Squee!”

  Molly starts bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She turns to me with a huge, gleaming smile on her face. She’s so happy. And I’m so happy for her.

  “Can you believe this?” she says.

  She runs across the room, throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me tight. God, I love the feel of her sexy new curves and that baby bump pressing against me.

  “I’m super stoked for you, babe.”

  “I know, right?” She grins.

  As we’re walking down 19th Street with no particular destination in mind, I wonder how to go about telling her it’s time to part ways. Maybe I should remind her of all the reading she has to do for school. Should I just call her a car and be done with it or what?

  I turn and find her gazing ahead, still so radiant from having lucked out with the below-market apartment. God, she’s beautiful.

  “Hey, Molly.”

  “Yeah?”

  She turns to me, and those bright, sparkling eyes of hers get me right in the gut.

  “How about we go out for dinner to celebrate your new apartment? Are y
ou hungry?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m eating for two, Eric. I’m always hungry.” She laughs. “Yeah, let’s do. I’m definitely in the mood to celebrate.”

  Awesome.

  So much for Derek and the party and the Victoria’s Secret models...

  21. MOLLY

  “Here they come,” says Jules in a singsong voice. She turns away from the window and her gaze lands on Eric with a jokingly grave look on her face. “You sure you don’t want to make a run for it? There’s still time to shimmy down the fire escape.”

  “Oh, shut up.” He laughs.

  This is it. Any minute now, Dad, Eric and I are going to be in the same room together for the first time since that horrible night that Dad went postal. I know the two of them have seen each other many times since then—at practices and games and whatnot—but their paths haven’t crossed in at least a month or so since it’s no longer football season and all.

  Needless to say, I’m a nervous wreck.

  The door buzzer goes off, and five minutes later, Jules’s and my small apartment is packed to the gills. My whole family is here, nieces and nephew and all, plus Jules’s parents, her grandma and her little brother. It takes a while to get to everybody with all the hugs and hellos being exchanged. I’ve got one eye on Eric as I welcome the newcomers. Since he’s already acquainted with my sisters and their husbands, he’s busy exchanging greetings, too.

  So far, so good.

  “Honey, you look beautiful,” Mom says.

  I can’t help but snort in response. She is so full of it. I’m as big as a house in the tent I’m wearing. Now Jules looks beautiful. She’s got on a pretty pink silk number with a nipped in waist and this incredible chiffon ribbon detail all along the bodice. As for me, I’ve got on this boring old navy blue gown with no frills. It’s an empire waist, of course, which I need to accommodate the baby bump.

  “You do,” Mom assures me. “You look very sophisticated and collegiate.”

  I laugh. I guess things could be worse. Anyway, we’ll all look pretty much the same in our caps and gowns.