Page 87 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

Wells

Iwrap my arms around her, mindful of the precious cargo she's just announced she's carrying, and lift her from the couch swiftly—that's part adrenaline, part sheer elation. Her squeal of surprise is music, the best victory chant I could have ever imagined.

"You're serious?” I solicit quickly. “We're—you're—" I can't even get the words out.

I'm going from zero to a hundred, just like that. Excitement, love, and wonder are all mixed into one heady cocktail of emotions.

My wife is pregnant.

I’m still reeling with that sentiment that she’s mine in name and everything else that matters.

She chose me.

Through all the ups and downs of the game, the injuries, the triumphs, nothing has ever compared to this.

Rory, in my arms, bringing in a whole new chapter of life. We're a team- expanding and growing.

We’re about to have a baby.

A fucking baby. I swoop her up in my arms.

“Where are we going?” she asks with a laugh as I stride to our bedroom.

“Oh, I’m making some love to you, my beautiful wife. You’re pregnant!”

“I know.”

“With a baby.”

“I know.” I stop midstride and look up, finding her smiling down at me. “Excited?”

“Thrilled. We’re pregnant!”

“It’s going to be a lot.”

“I’m ready. I’m ready for all of it, baby.” My career slams into my head next, and I can’t help the frown that overtakes my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t play,” I mutter. “I need to be here for you and the baby—”

“No,” Rory cries out with a shake of her head. “I got this. We’re going to be fine. This changes a lot, but not everything.”

“I can’t leave you here alone with a new baby.”

“I want you to leave me alone here with a baby,” she retorts. “I would never dream of having you retire when you’re still in your prime.”

“Rory, I love you—”

“I love you, too,” she replies, cupping my face with her palm. “And I said no.”

“But—”

“No.”

Rory’s "no" hits me harder than any check on the ice ever could. It's firm, unwavering, the kind of 'no' that’s a 'yes' to a life bigger than us. One that includes diaper changes and late-night feedings mixed with goals and road trips.

“I just don’t want to miss out,” I confess. “On you, on the baby—anything.”

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