Page 52 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

Taylor

Istood in the nursery, my hand resting on my swollen belly as I gazed out the window of our new home. The past year had been a whirlwind of change, each day bringing us closer to this moment.

My therapy practice in nearby Borewood had flourished beyond my wildest dreams. With a dedicated team supporting me, I’d been able to divide my time between Coleman and LA, bridging the gap between my professional aspirations and my life with Van.

And Van... my heart swelled with pride thinking about his Catch the Dream Foundation. What had started as a simple idea had grown into something truly remarkable. Hundreds of kidswho might never have had the chance were now stepping onto baseball fields, their faces lit up with hope and determination.

I smiled, remembering the last camp we’d attended together. Van had been in his element, patiently demonstrating pitching techniques, his eyes shining as he watched the kids practice. It wasn’t just about baseball anymore, but about showing these kids that no dream was too big.

A strong kick from our son brought me back to the present. I rubbed my belly gently, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Soon, little one,” I whispered. “We can’t wait to meet you.”

As if on cue, I heard Van’s car pull into the driveway. It was time for our doctor’s appointment. With one last look around the nursery, I headed downstairs.

***

The soft hum of the car engine mingled with Van’s quiet laughter as his hand rested on my swollen belly. Beneath his palm, a series of strong kicks made his eyes widen with delight.

“Whoa, he’s putting on quite a show today,” Van said, his voice filled with wonder.

I covered his hand with mine, wincing slightly at a particularly forceful kick. “I think he knows his grand debut is coming soon.”

Van’s eyes met mine, a mix of excitement and concern evident in his gaze. “How are you holding up?”

I offered him a tired smile. “Excited... exhausted... a little overwhelmed.”

As we pulled into the driveway of our new home, the late afternoon sun bathed the house in a warm glow. The sight of it - larger than I’d initially wanted, but perfect for the family we were building - brought a lump to my throat.

Van cut the engine and was at my door in an instant, his strong hands supporting me as I maneuvered my way out of the car. His arm slid around my waist, steady and comforting.

“I still can’t believe this is our life now,” I murmured, leaning into him as we made our way to the front door.

Van’s lips brushed my temple. “Believe it, babe. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

Inside, we gravitated towards the nursery, as we often did these days. The room, painted in soft blue and cream by Van and Hunter, was a testament to the love already waiting for our son. I ran my fingers along the edge of the crib, imagining the tiny life that would soon occupy it.

“Remember when we finished setting up this room?” Van asked, his voice soft with nostalgia. “Hunter insisted on putting together the crib himself.”

I chuckled, recalling my brother’s determined face as he wrestled with the instructions. “And it only took him three hours and two beers.”

Van’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “Worth it, though. The look on his face when he finished.”

A sharp twinge cut through my reminiscing, causing me to gasp and grab Van’s arm. His body tensed immediately; eyes wide with alarm.

“Taylor? What is it?”

I breathed through the sensation, feeling another wave hit, stronger this time. My heart began to race as realization dawned.

“I think...” I paused, meeting Van’s anxious gaze. “I think it’s time.”

Van’s face transformed, excitement and panic battling for dominance. “Time? Now?” His voice cracked slightly on the last word.

I nodded, gripping his arm tighter as another contraction built. “Yeah, now.”

For a moment, we stood frozen, the reality of what was happening sinking in. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, Van suddenly sprang into action.

“Okay, okay, we’ve got this,” he said, more to himself than to me. He grabbed the hospital bag we’d prepared weeks ago, then turned to me, his eyes softening. “You ready for this, Taylor?”

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