Page 40 of Coach Sully

“There’s a copy of the questions in your inbox. Kendra needs your answers by Friday so she can critique them before the game.”

“Will do.” I oscillate in my rolling desk chair, and she stands to leave. “How is Kendra doing, by the way?”

“She’s all right, you know, all things considered.”

I furrow my brow. “All things considered?”

Rachel hoists the strap of her bag on her shoulder and cocks her head to the side with pursed lips, as if it’s obvious. Then she quickly replies, “She just has a lot on her plate right now, she’s working a lot. That’s nothing new, though.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered as much.”

The last thing I want to do is talk on live TV—with Kendra—about my dating life. Or lack thereof, because so far, every date has been a bust. The only thing worse than going on the dates themselves is talking about them. Sitting one-on-one and discussing other women to the one woman I’m interested in is torture.

I don’t want to date all these other women. It’s obvious they aren’t going to work out, at least it is to me. If people saw what Kendra and I werereallylike when no one’s around, they’d see how great we fit together as a couple. I lean back in my chair, close my eyes, and scrub a hand down my face.

How am I going to get through the rest of this damn show?

Raleigh and I chose to meet for brunch, which I appreciate. I’m hopeful the discussion of my unplanned pregnancy will be less daunting if it’s done over expensive avocado toast. I anticipated our introduction being awkward, but Raleigh has a welcoming nature that makes me feel like I belong. Maybe it’s her positive vibes or the slight southern accent. Regardless, she’s one of those people you trust almost instantly.

“What are you getting to drink?” she asks. “I’d kick a door off its hinges to get to their orange juice.”

“Orange juice? Really?”

“Girl, just get it. You’ll thank me later.”

I’m searching the menu for something that won’t make my stomach queasy. Just readingeggs benedictmakes me want to run for the door. They have lemon-blueberry muffins. Close enough. The ginger cakes from Sugar and Ice are the only thing keeping me alive these days.

“That’s it?” she asks. “You’re not hungry for anything else?”

“Everything else makes me nauseous.”

“Got it. I’ll get a muffin too.” She sets her menu at the edge of the table.

“The last thing you probably want is the smell of eggs on the table.”

The thought alone nearly makes me retch. Luckily, our booth is tucked into a little alcove and the smells of other people’s food aren’t as pungent as they were the other day during filming.

I drop my chin to my chest. “Oh my God, thank you so much for understanding. It’s been a nightmare.”

“When I was pregnant with Darby, the smell of raw chicken destroyed me. It’s the worst.”

I set my menu on top of hers and make small talk about the cute decor in the restaurant. The server comes around, and we order two glasses of orange juice and two lemon-blueberry muffins. The woman smiles and leaves with our menus.

“So,” Raleigh says, “should we get into it?”

Here we go.

Once I start talking, it’s like I can’t stop. I tell her about everything: the failed tubal ligation, about not wanting to tell my job, about the hellish symptoms I’ve been going through in my first trimester—a word I’ve gotten used to over the last few days. Well,almosteverything. I feel a little guilty omitting the minor detail that it’s Sully’s child, but I can’t risk him finding out. Not until I know what I want to do and have a plan of action. All Raleigh knows is that the dad was a one-night stand. Technically, it was two nights, but that’s not important anymore.

Once I finish my tell-all, our food arrives and she shares her experience with her first child, Arthur. She was twenty-two when she became pregnant with him. She tried to reach out to Barrett, the father, but due to some miscommunication, they didn’t connect again until Arthur was almost five. It’sheartbreaking to hear about the struggles she went through, but it has a happy ending. It’s especially touching that throughout those five years, Barrett never gave up looking for Raleigh.

Then she goes into the ugly stuff. She doesn’t sugarcoat the postpartum depression and anxiety. The expenses and daycare costs. I appreciate her transparency. Thankfully, I’m paid well by Vault Productions, and I’ve been good about saving money from my mother and grandmother when they both passed, which is how I was able to afford my house—and tubal ligation, which I feel I’m entitled to a refund for.

I take a sip of the orange juice.Goddamn, that’s good. “What is this?”

“They fresh squeeze it and blend it until it’s light and fluffy.”

“It tastes like a cloud.” I didn’t know orange juice could taste like this. “Why do we even bother drinking it any other way?” Best of all, it doesn’t make me nauseous. Another safety food!

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