Page 78 of Strike Zone

“Not before you say it.” I give her a panty-melting smile to recover from my odd behavior.

“No minivan. Or if we get one, I’ll back over you in it to put you out your misery.” Her nose scrunches up as she giggles to herself. It’s so stinking cute.

“That’s real love. Thanks, southpaw.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

I tentatively step forward, peeking down her front. “Holy shit! This dress is coming off.”

“No. We’ll be late for our reservation, and you don’t need to see this.”

“I beg to differ. I definitely do need to see them to assess why the hell you’re wearing pantyhose. It’s warm outside.”

“They hold all my soft bits in.”

“Those are all the best parts.” I drop to my knees and slide her dress up her legs, over her hips, and up over her head. She wasn’t wrong. The pantyhose are, in fact, covering her bra, and I was right—she makes it look sexy as fuck.

“Satisfied?” She’s trying to be annoyed, but it’s too funny to keep a straight face. Both of us descend into a fit of giggles, but I’m still dealing with a tent pole situation over here.

I bite down on my knuckle. “Will you hold it against me if I tell you, you look seriously hot in that get-up?”

“You’re a perv, Lincoln Nash.”

“Yeah, but I’m your perv.” She snatches her dress back, but I have one alteration to make before she puts it back on. “You don’t need these.” I divest her of the pantyhose, kissing her stomach as I push them down over her hips. “Hi, princess. Don’t worry, I won’t let Mommy roast you alive all night in these crazy girly things. She doesn’t need them.”

“Watching you talk to her like that might have exploded my ovaries, so make the most of her when she gets here. I think my ovaries are liquid right now.”

“Put your dress on, Diana. If you don’t, I’m going to start saying things to you that’ll make other parts of your body explode.”

“Would they really care if we didn’t show up?” A wicked grin creeps in at the corner of her lips, a devious little minx coming out to play.

“You invited them! As much as it pains me, put your dress on. It’ll be on my bedroom floor later.”

“Now, this first date just got a whole lot better.”

When she’s ready, I cup her face in my hands, lowering my lips to hers in a firm but chaste kiss. “Let’s go.”

Diana’s manager released a statement last month confirming rumors of her pregnancy, but she’s kept a low profile, and my name wasn’t part of the equation. I was surprised when she suggested we walk to the restaurant tonight. It’s only a few blocks from her place, but she’s not a PDA let’s-show-everyone-we’re-in-love kind of girl.

We stroll hand in hand through the streets of Manhattan, enjoying the beginnings of a summer breeze and possibilities in the air.

“I thought I might come to one of your games sometime soon if that’s okay?”

“You’re a Yankees fan, you can go to any game you like. You don’t need my permission, southpaw.”

“I know. I meant, maybe I’d sit in your seats, as your… person… plus-one type thing.”

“You mean you want to come as my girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Hell, yeah. I’ve been waiting for you to say the word.”

“There’s something else.”

“O-kay, you look pale all of a sudden. Are you going to hurl?” She rolls her eyes as if that assumption is way out of left field. It’s a daily occurrence. At any given time, if I’m in the same room as Diana, I know where all exits and trashcans are located. I’m like the secret service of vomit protocol. It’s getting better, and there are foods she can keep down now, but it’s a short grocery list.

“I’m not going to be sick. Not yet anyway. I wanted to know how you feel about releasing a statement that we’re together, and you’re the baby’s dad? I know I don’t owe the world an explanation or anything, but I’m proud of you, us, and our baby girl when she arrives, so I just wanted to put it out there. You can have a think about it and let me know.”

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