Halo Violation: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 5

  “Wenzel’s touchdown was epic.”

  “He should have been MVP.”

  “I couldn’t be happier with the starting lineup,” Dad says. “We’ve got the strongest, most capable players I’ve ever had the chance to work with in my entire career.”

  “Grandpa, when I get older, can I be on your team even though I’m a girl?” Ashley asks, giving his jacket a tug.

  Dad laughs. “I’m afraid not, honey, but if you still want to play professionally when you’re all grown up, I’ll see to it that we get you a spot in the Independent Women’s Football League.”

  “Yay!”

  Beth and I set the table—with the help of our assistants, Ashley and Bridget—and then Mom and Tricia start bringing out the dishes. We’ve got cranberry sauce, candied yams, green bean casserole and all the standard Thanksgiving fare. Once the table is laden with the feast, we all sit down. We join hands and bow our heads so Dad can say the blessing.

  “O Gracious God, we give you thanks for your overflowing generosity to us. Thank you for the blessings of the food we eat and especially for this feast today. Thank you for our home and family and friends, especially for the presence of those gathered here. Thank you for our health, our work and our play. Please send help to those who are hungry, alone, sick and suffering war and violence. Open our hearts to your love. We ask your blessing through Christ your son. Amen.”

  “Amen,” the rest of us say in unison.

  As per family tradition, we go around the table, sharing what we’re thankful for as Dad carves the turkey and we all start dishing ourselves up. And just as she has done for as long as I can remember, Mom gets the ball rolling.

  “First and foremost, I’m thankful for the health and happiness of my family. We are all very blessed.”

  “I am beyond grateful for the safe arrival of this little guy,” says Michael, motioning to my nephew, Lucas, who’s sitting in the antique high chair, looking sleepy.

  “Same here,” Tricia says. “I’m grateful for everything in my life, and I feel very fortunate for all that I have, but the baby’s safe arrival is what I’m most thankful for.”

  My turn.

  I feel my cheeks burn as I consider what I’m really grateful for. Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about the mind-blowing sex I had with Eric last night, and the magnificent orgasm that knocked me senseless. I am tremendously thankful for that experience—for the best sex I’ve ever had.

  But what I say out loud is, “I’m thankful to be here with all of you, that we’re all healthy and happy, and I’m also very thankful for the opportunities and experiences I’ve had in life so far.”

  7. ERIC

  “Damn,” Ben says, holding up his wineglass for a refill. “I could really get used to this.”

  I only grin in response.

  My normal lifestyle isn’t nearly this lavish, but I wanted to plan something really special for the guys’ visit, so I spared no expense. One of my teammates told me about this “private dining” outfit based in a converted boot factory in the Bowery. Basically, you pay anywhere from one to five thousand bucks to reserve a stylish dining room and have a staff of six to cook and serve whatever you want. The dining rooms can hold up to twenty people, apparently, so I get that it’s a little extravagant for a party of three, but fuck it. It’s Thanksgiving and I wanted to go all out.

  Nathan grabs another buttery roll from the bread basket and says, “You were awesome on the field. You practically flew today, bro.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “How did it feel?” Ben asks.

  “Pretty awesome, man. Pretty awesome.”

  “So, what do you guys feel like doing tonight?” I ask. “We could hit one of the lounges around here, or we could head over to my teammate’s party. Derek Adams is having a post-game blow out at his loft in SoHo. Should be fun. Or, hell, we could just head back to my place to drink beer and watch a movie or something.”

  “A movie?” Ben laughs. “You’re kidding, right? No way can you really be that lame.”

  “Dude, fuck you. How about you catch a ball while a bunch of giants chase you down the field and then we’ll see how much energy you have left to party?”

  “Seriously, Eric?” Nathan asks. “You want to head back to your apartment?”

  I laugh. “No, you dickhead. I was just throwing it out there as an option. I’m up for anything.”

  “Oh. Okay, cool.”

  “I was gonna say,” Ben says. “You’re twenty-five, not fifty-five, dude.”

  I grab one of the bread rolls and chuck it at him. He blocks the throw and the roll lands in the pumpkin risotto. Our waiter hurries over to fish it out of the serving dish, looking pissed as hell. I make a mental note to tip the staff extra well tonight.

  “Let’s hit the party at Derek Adams’s place,” says Nathan. “You think there will be a lot of people there?”

  “Definitely.”

  It’s a plan. We linger over dinner for another hour or so, and then we head out. It’s a clear, crisp night, and Derek’s place isn’t too far, so we decide to walk over.

  As I cut through the cold air, I find myself wondering what Margaret is up to. Is she really spending the holiday with her friend Nina’s family or was that complete bullshit? I can’t imagine why she’d feel the need to lie to me. As long as she’s not underage—and I am positive she’s not—then what possible reason could she have for conducting some random cover story?

  I know there’s no reason I should care. She’s just some chick. There are millions more just like her.

  But...well, that’s not true, and I know it. On top of being beautiful and sexy as hell, she’s got that unique look that first drew my eye. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl before who rocked the hot librarian look and the silent film star at the same time.

  She’s got a sense of humor, too. I love how she’s got her ringtone set to the shower scene in Psycho. And she’s hella brilliant. That’s for sure. I mean, how many girls are fluent in Latin, for fuck’s sake?

  And don’t even get me started on the electricity zooming between the two of us when we were fucking, or hell, even when we were kissing.

  Damn.

  This sucks. In the short time we spent together, I seem to have grown attached to Margaret, which is ridiculous, for sure. Maybe there aren’t millions more just like her, but there are plenty of chicks out there—chicks who would gladly give me their numbers, I might add.

  I’m stoked that we decided to hit Derek’s party. No doubt there will be tons of chicks there.

  We take the rickety old elevator up to the penthouse, and when we walk in, the place is already bumping.

  “Wenzel, hey!” Derek calls from across the room. He strolls over and gives me the one armed hug. “Glad you made it.”

  “Hey, Adams. Nice turnout. Have you met my friends?”

  After I introduce the guys, Derek takes our coats and leads us to the bar.

  “This is Cecilia,” he says, gesturing to the buxom bartender. “She’ll hook you up with whatever you want. I’m going to go dump these in the guest room.” He nods down at the pile of coats in his arms.

  “Cool. See you, later, Adams.”

  I turn back to the bartender, unable to hold back a grin. Leave it to Derek Adams to hire a busty babe to tend bar, and to have her wearing a low-cut top to showcase her impressive cleavage.

  “What can I get you boys?” she asks in a breathy, Marilyn Monroe kind of voice.

  I order a vodka, straight up, and when we all have our drinks in hand, Nathan holds his up for a toast.

  “Cheers to a kickass Thanksgiving,” he says.

  “Cheers,” Ben and I say in unison, and then we all clink our glasses together and take a sip.

  An hour later, I notice that one of Derek’s leather sofas is vacant, so I head in that direction and take a seat. My friends are taking full advantage of the fact that this place is packed with hot chicks. Ben hit it off right away with a curvy bru
nette, and they’ve been cozying up together all night. Nathan, on the other hand, has been an equal opportunity charmer. I don’t think there’s a single chick here who he hasn’t talked to. Both guys are clearly having a great time, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

  “Hey, baby,” says a curvy blonde as she slides up next to me. “I saw that amazing touchdown at the game today. Congrats on that by the way.”

  “Thanks.” I smile.

  “What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?” she asks.

  “Just chilling.”

  “You sure look like you could use some company.”

  Her eyes are so wide and innocent looking—a strong contrast to the hand she placed on my knee, which is swiftly making its way up the length of my thigh before coming to rest on my cock.

  Fucking hell.

  The chick’s got balls—so to speak.

  I pick her hand up and kiss the back of it before placing it on her lap.

  “Oh, you’re no fun,” she says with an exaggerated pout.

  “Sorry, babe. I’m just not in the mood.”

  She rolls her eyes and then she turns her attention to the crowd on the terrace.

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  I follow her gaze, which seems to be focused on my teammate, Troy Williams. Apart from Derek, he’s the only other player here. Looks like this wildcat is determined to bag a Viper tonight. It’s sure as hell not going to be me, but even so, I wish her all the best.

  “See ya,” she says, getting up from the sofa.

  Sure enough, she makes a beeline straight to Troy. I can’t help but chuckle under my breath.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  I turn around to find Nathan standing behind me with a perplexed look on his face. He walks around the sofa and takes a seat next to me.

  “Why’d you blow that chick off? She’s gorgeous.”

  I shrug.

  “Dude,” he says with an exasperated look on his face. “Please tell me you’re not still pining over that girl from last night.”

  “Yeah right. I’m not pining over anyone, Nathan.”

  He doesn’t respond, but sometimes there’s no need for words. We’ve known each other for so long; he knows exactly what’s going on in my head. I can tell by the way his expression softens.

  “You’ve got to let it go, man.”

  “I know that.”

  I look away. I’m over this conversation already. I don’t need this shit.

  “Have you wondered if maybe this is just like an ego thing?”

  “What?” I turn back to him. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said yourself that girls never refuse to give you their numbers, but the one from last night wouldn’t do it. Maybe that’s why you can’t get her out of your head—because she’s like a challenge. You know?”

  “No way.”

  Margaret is special. I hate how Nathan is talking about her like she’s nothing more than fuel for my ravenous ego.

  “Well, whatever the reason is, you need to let it go. I was thinking about why she blew you off and I’ll bet you anything the chick’s got a boyfriend.”

  Oh, shit. Of course she does.

  “Think about it,” Nathan goes on to say. “She’s got her man back in California or wherever she goes to school, but while she’s away, she gets the chance to bang a NFL player and she goes for it.”

  I feel like such an asshole for not considering the possibility of this scenario. It makes perfect sense.

  “She’s probably feeling guilty and wondering how she can fix things with the boyfriend she betrayed. The last thing she needs is to always be wondering if and when you’re going to call or even show up, which could easily fuck up her relationship with Joe College.”

  “Wow.” I stare at Nathan without blinking. “You’re good.”

  He shakes his head and gives a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well. I’ve had plenty of experience with girls who cheat.”

  Unfortunately, this is true. I give him a sympathetic smile.

  “Come on,” he says, getting up from the sofa and holding a hand out for me. “Get your sorry ass up. Let’s go talk to some chicks.”

  I groan. “Dude, come on.”

  “I’m not saying let’s go bang some chicks. It’s a fucking party. You’re supposed to socialize, not sit around looking like some sad little boy who’s lost his puppy,” he says with a barely concealed smile.

  “Fuck you.”

  I’m doing as shitty a job as he is when it comes to hiding my own smile.

  Nathan won’t let up. He shakes his hand in my direction, and finally I give up and take it. He grips me hard and pulls me to my feet.

  “Now we’re talking,” he says, slinging an arm over my shoulder. “Let’s go show them what we’re made of.”

  Shit, man. I’ve really missed my friends.

  8. MOLLY

  No.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  This cannot be happening.

  I back up to the bathroom wall and then I slide down until I’m sitting on the cold tile floor.

  In an instant, my world has been knocked off its axis. One second I’m going about my business, doing a little Sunday evening housework, and the next I’m tangled up in the biggest fucking catastrophe of my entire fucking life.

  Oh my god.

  I’d just finished scrubbing the sink when I pulled off the lid of the little plastic trashcan next to the toilet to empty the garbage. That’s when I saw them—the empty tampon wrappers. And that’s when I knew.

  Jules and I have been living together in this apartment for over a year now, and our cycles synched up ages ago. We’re both like clockwork. Judging by the number of wrappers in the trash, she’s on Day 3 or Day 4 by now, like I should be. But I’m not.

  I hadn’t even realized I was late. I’ve been so wrapped up in completing projects, writing end of term papers and prepping for conference week, not to mention the fact that my schedule is jammed with one holiday event after the other. I hadn’t spared even one second to worry that I might be...that I might be...pregnant.

  Besides, Eric used a condom. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that there might be repercussions.

  Oh my god.

  This can’t really be happening.

  I don’t know how long I stay in the bathroom, huddled and shivering on the cold tile floor, but at some point I get up and head back down the hall into the kitchen, feeling dazed and numb.

  Jules is at the sink, washing dishes, and she looks over with a smile when she sees me standing here. Her smile fades fast.

  She sets down the glass she’s holding, shuts off the faucet and says, “Molly, what’s wrong?”

  “I think I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” she says, coming over to take my hands. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Why do you think so? I mean are you late?”

  Her hands are so wet, so warm, and she emits a clean, soapy smell. I have no idea why I notice such things at a time like this.

  Nodding my head, I tell her, “Exactly. And you’re on what? Day three? Day four?”

  She bites down on her bottom lip and looks away.

  “Jules?” I hate how whiny I sound.

  “I’m on my fourth day,” she says

  Staring blankly at her, I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. A part of me was hoping she’d tell me some crazy story about how she’s actually only on Day 1, but she had a couple of friends over who were both on their periods as well.

  I am such an idiot.

  “That doesn’t have to mean it’s true,” she tells me, looking straight into my eyes. “There are loads of reasons why you might just be late. Maybe you’re stressed about conference week. Or maybe...”

  So much for the loads of reasons I could be late.

  “I don’t know. I’m not an expert,” she says. “Did you...I mean did the guy—the football player you were with over break—did he wear a condom?”

  “Of course he di
d!”

  I feel bad about snapping at her, but she doesn’t even react.

  “That’s good. Then I’d say there’s a very good chance this is just a false alarm.”

  She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a warm embrace. I hug her back and it feels good and everything, but I don’t feel reassured in the slightest. I know my body. I’ve never been one day late, much less five. It’s not going to do me any good to pretend like this isn’t happening.

  “Let’s go sit down.”

  Jules pulls out of my embrace and takes my hand. She leads me to the living room, walks me straight up to the sofa and guides me onto one of the cushions like I’m her withered old grandmother or something. I stare down at my flat stomach. It seems so absurd that there could be another life in there, manifesting as we speak.

  This is all so unreal. It’s like a waking nightmare.

  “Molly,” Jules says, reaching over tentatively to place a hand on my arm.

  I’m surprised to find she’s sitting next to me. When did she even sit down? How could I have not even noticed that? What is wrong with me?

  “Do you want to take a pregnancy test?”

  I nod. Even though I’m almost certain that I am in fact...pregnant, there’s still a tiny part of me that’s holding onto the hope that this is just a false alarm.

  Oh, I hope it is.

  I hope, I hope, I hope.

  “I’ll go,” Jules says.

  She gets up, grabs her boots from over by the front door where she left them, and starts lacing them onto her feet.

  “Do you want to come with?” she asks.

  I shake my head, no. I’m so out of it right now. I can’t even deal with the thought of being out in public. I’d probably lose my shit right there in the middle of Walgreens or something.

  “Okay, that’s fine. You just hang tight, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She grabs her coat out of the closet and pulls it on. Then she walks over to the TV, picks up the remote and tosses it over to me. “Switch that on. Try to keep your mind off...well. Anyway, it might help if you can try to focus on some stupid show or something.”