Page 33 of Baller's Surprise Baby

Iimagine telling him, pulling his hands to my slightly rounded belly, looking him in the eye and saying, “You’re going to be a father.” But then I feel a cold sweat hit me, and it’s more than the fear of telling him. It’s the terror of becoming a mother, of birthing a child, of being the person most responsible for an innocent human being’s life and wellbeing.

I’m sitting here in a magical bubble with one of the NBA’s biggest stars, a national hero, and I desperately want to stay in this tiny slice of heaven and push all my cares aside to bask in Ryder’s affection. So, just for tonight I hold my secret tight a little while longer and tell myself the future is for cold, hard reality. Tonight is just for me and Ryder.

I dip my head down and capture his lips in mine before sweeping my tongue across the corner of his mouth. When he opens to me, I dip inside and soon our bodies follow suit. We make love through what little remains of the night, and when we’re finally satiated and our bodies have said everything words can’t express, I fall back on the covers utterly satisfied.

Ryder’s eyes are still on me as we lay beside each other, a soft smile on his lips, and I watch as he fights the droop of his eyelids and tries to stay with me in the quiet moments of the dawn. I turn onto my side and place a hand to his cheek, loving this sleepy, sweet version of him.

“Ryder?” I whisper. His eyes flutter back open as he smiles at me for no obvious reason.

“I’m falling for you too.” There’s a hitch in my voice as I say it, because it hits deep inside me. Aside from my Aunt Sharon, I’ve never been so invested in another human being. His grin spreads until I can see a tiny dimple on one cheek, and his eyes close with a sigh. I watch him drift off to sleep, and soon I give in to the same pull.

Two days later, I’m home alone and I close my laptop to turn broodingly toward my little office window. There’s an azalea tree just outside, but it’s shaped more like a giant bush and not quite ready to bloom. I stare at a bird’s nest exposed to view on the bare branches. We’re at the end of February now, and in plenty of places it’s still ski weather, but here in Texas it’s the beginning of spring, and birds are chirping every morning and building their little homes. I take a last look at my notes for tomorrow and decide that I’m done for the day. A glance at the clock shows the time is 5:00 p.m., and it’s only my third day of onboarding for the remote contractor position, so it’s nothing but paperwork and training right now. I’ll start lending support on a few projects in the coming days, but I haven’t received my first full assignment just yet.

Stepping out into the kitchen and living area of our modest little rental, I hear a car engine and turn to see Aunt Sharon’s Buick pulling up to our grassy lawn. There’s no official driveway, but there’s a general section of the yard with more tire marks than the rest, so we park there.

She doesn’t see me yet, so I do my usual visual check to reassure myself that she’s well. Her follow-up tests were rescheduled, so we still haven’t heard back on any results yet, but she doesn’t seem ill to me. Content for the moment that she’s okay, I heave a sigh. I should probably tell her about the baby.

I glance down, but I’m in a button-down shirt over black yoga pants. That’s the beauty of working remotely. No one can even see my pants on the camera, much less tell the difference between black yoga pants and black slacks. I think about it for three more seconds before nixing the idea. I should probably be doing a lot of things, like scheduling more doctor appointments and shopping for strollers, but with the move in January followed by the decision to try for something with Ryder, and then a new job, and now this…I shake my head.

“I’m okay. This is fine. I’m going to do this, and I will figure it out.” I focus on calming my breathing as Aunt Sharon walks up the small porch steps and opens the front door. I know she’s got my back, but I already told Rachel, and I feel weird now about telling anyone else before I tell Ryder. Ugh! Get it together, girl!

I stare broodily out the window again. At least now I have my prenatal vitamins.

“Everly! I didn’t see you there!” Aunt Sharon calls out as she drops her keys on the counter and removes her jacket. I smile and come forward for a small hug before turning toward the fridge.

“I just finished work for today. What do you feel like for dinner?” I query as she turns toward the grocery bag she just brought in.

“Look, I got us a frozen lasagna, and breadsticks. The only thing we’re missing is salad. I thought I’d get it in the oven and then just pop over to Kroger and grab something already prepared. What do you think?” I’m a sucker for any kind of pasta and she knows it, so I grin and nod.

“Sounds perfect!” I check the instructions on the box and then press the preheat button on the oven. “But I can run and get the salad. I’ve been here all day, and you just got back.” I wait for her response, and when she raises her brows and then shrugs, I take it as a “yes.”

“Awesome. I’ll just change and grab some shoes.” I head back to my bedroom and rifle through the closet. I’ve been super casual since I got back from LA knowing that Rider was still traveling, Rachel is back at work, and all I have to do is show up at my computer for hours on end. But enough is enough. I snag my favorite pair of jeans and then do a double take when I can’t get them to close.

“What the hell? I must have grabbed the wrong ones,” I mutter as I slide take them off and rifle through my drawer again only to turn back around and realize that those were the right pants. They have the embroidery on the pockets and the silver buttons. I slide them back on and turn to the mirror. Sure enough, they don’t button. In fact, they’re not even close. I try sucking in my tummy and pulling, but even with my best efforts the button remains a solid two inches away from the eyelet.

I stare in consternation at the bare skin of my belly now showing clearly through the gap. I want to yell at the mirror as I yank the sides of my pants in a moment of insanity.

This can’t be happening! I just found out I’m pregnant four weeks ago! The pants don’t stretch or give, and when I finally stop yanking at them, I put my hands up to my face in a classic expression of dismay.

“Oh my God, this is really happening.”

25

Ryder

Closing my car door, I take a step onto the grassy lawn and turn to stare up at my childhood home. My parents have lived here ever since I can remember. It’s a nice house east of Dallas built in the early eighties, what normal people would call a small mansion, but the wealthy might call it a quaint cottage. In short, it’s gorgeous. It was probably less than $150K when it was built, and now I’d hazard a guess that it’s well over a million. I’ve parked on the street, but I don’t bother going to the front door. Instead, my feet carry me straight down the driveway and around to the back.

There it is: my old friend. It’s not my first one, but it’s the basket and backboard my dad had mounted over the detached garage right before I left for college. I check the side door of the garage and it’s unlocked, so I wade through boxes, sports equipment, kayaks, and every other random item a family collects over the years. I know for a fact there are at least six basketballs lurking around here somewhere, but the first ones I find are flat from disuse.

Half an hour later I’ve located the hand pump and made my way back out to the wide driveway with the accompanying echo of the ball. Coming back out onto the pavement I stare at the one part of the home that, to this day, still feels like mine. This is where I come to relax, to stop thinking, to step out of the noise and get away from the crowd. The sun is getting ready to set and the neighborhood is so peaceful. As much as I love my celebrity life, I’ve missed this.

“I thought I heard something.”

I let the ball fly and it goes straight through, nothing but net. When I step back and lean to my left to catch the ball on its second bounce, I spot my dad’s tall frame striding toward me from the direction of the back patio doors. There’s no mistaking the pleasure in his voice when he grips me in a tight hug and claps me on the shoulder before stepping back and getting a good look at me.

“Hey son, how are you? It’s been a while.”

I hug him right back and then step away to toss him the ball.

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