Page 81 of Strike Zone

“Yes, I’ll move in with you. I was going to ask you to move in with me, but I like your apartment better.”

I’m dumbfounded. This isn’t how I expected this conversation to go. I had a million answers for ‘no,’ or ‘I’ll have to think about it.’ I have no words for an unequivocal ‘yes.’

“Are you fucking with me right now because that would be cruel?”

She cups my face in her hands, pulling my lips to hers. “I’m not fucking with you. I’m in love with you, and we’re about to have a baby together. We spend every night together already. Yes, I want to live with you. We’re a team now, right? All baggage… punched in the face at the door. Thanks for that, by the way. I couldn’t do it myself. It’s a bad pregnancy look for a UFC fighter.”

“My pleasure, southpaw. It was my absolute-fucking-pleasure.”

“Congratulations!” Brooke raises her glass to us. “To you guys.”

We all lift our glasses—Diana’s is a glass of water—and toast to the future.

The rest of our evening is perfect. Even though it started out with an unwelcome intrusion, we’re ending it on a high note. Anders and Brooke want to continue celebrating at Viper, but my girl needs to crawl into bed with me. She may not be on strict bed rest at this point, but she also doesn’t have boundless energy.

“I’m going to take Diana home.” She doesn’t even try to protest, so I know I’m right. “You guys go ahead. Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Anders slings his arm over Brooke’s shoulder “Damn, baby, the world is our oyster tonight.”

“You’re a fuckwit, bro.”

“Back at ya, bell-end. See you at practice on Monday.” He holds the door open for Brooke, but in the blink of an eye, they’re back inside, Anders shaking his head in my direction.

“Fuck.” We quickly make our way over to them, but I keep Diana tucked in at my side, instinctively protective of her and the baby.

“There’s paparazzi lining the street. Is there a back entrance to this place?”

“No,” the concierge inserts himself into our conversation. “Should I call the police?”

“Not yet.” Diana never backs away from a fight, and tonight, she faced her fears and came out on top, and my guess is she’s ready to rumble.

“You’re not going out there for them to swarm and paw at you. No fucking way.”

“I have an idea. Do you trust me?” She stares up at me with such warmth and love, knowing this question means so much more than this one moment.

“Yes.”

Turning to face the entire restaurant, Diana cups her hands at her mouth and hollers at the top of her lungs. “Hey! Can I have everyone’s attention?”

That did it. Every eye in the place is on her.

“Hi. Sorry to interrupt your evening. I’m Diana Lexington, and you may know my friends here.” She points to Anders and me as phones start being lifted from the table. “As you can see, I’m very pregnant right now. What no one knows is that Lincoln Nash, our beloved Yankees legend and my favorite person in the world, is the father. We’re very much in love, and it’s all gooey and pink and glittery or whatever. Now, there are a lot of reporters outside who would love to barricade us in here for the evening, and Linc is about ready to pop a vein in his forehead if one of them so much as breathes near this baby bump. Isn’t that right, baby?”

She looks to me with wide eyes and a stunning smile.

“She’s right, people. I’m gonna Hulk out if any of those guys try to get in her personal space.”

“So, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping a pregnant chick out and form a little tunnel to a waiting cab if that’s possible? Not how you thought your night was going to go, but we’re here, and Linc has graciously offered to pay for everyone’s dinner and drinks tonight for your trouble.”

“I did?”

“You did, baby.”

“What can I say, I’m a generous guy.”

Chapter Eighteen

DIANA

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