Page 58 of Bae

There are women offering to give my husband a baby?

In the words of said husband,Oh hells no!

Valerie made a sound of distress and took my hand. I looked up at her. She had her chin high and a stubborn, intimidating look on her face.

Be like that.

With a sniff and, if I do say so myself, rather on-point hair flip, I marched ahead, holding my chin high.

“Is it true you can’t conceive?” someone shouted.

Cameras flashed.

I felt my resolve waver, but I forced it back in place. Thankfully, security officers shoved through the press and flanked Valerie and me. After that, we were whisked into the building where Ivy and Tony waited.

Valerie gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. I could have sworn I felt a little pride from her at the way I handled that.

I did better than I thought. Perhaps the weakness I was so afraid of was more perceived than actual. It didn’t matter my insides quivered, my stomach was in knots, and all the muscles at the base of my skull felt like they’d been slammed with a wrecking ball.

Unfortunately, my well of tolerance for handling things seemed to dry up quickly, so it was uncertain how much more I’d be able to withstand today.

The box Romeo’s parents had was beautiful. There was seating for over ten people, a large flat-screen TV that played the game, another smaller TV above the full bar showing coverage from SportsCenter or something, and a wide glass front that looked down over the field.

The bar was stocked with a ton of drinks (alcoholic and non), and there was a full spread of game day eats across the counter.

A few of Tony’s colleagues would be joining us, but other than that, it was just us four and Nova.

It was definitely a pampered way to enjoy a live football game. And bonus! It was climate controlled, so that meant the cold autumn air wouldn’t freeze my fingers into numbness.

Still, I preferred sitting in the stands.

It was more real to me. More normal.

The first quarter was fun and relaxing. We munched on snacks, drank apple cider and hot chocolate (Ivy and I didn’t drink at games… Ivy barely drank at all), and played with Nova.

Valerie and I even cheered on Romeo together.

It’s never just that easy, though.

Word got out that I was here. Pictures of me entering the side doors were already popping up online, and posts were flying. If I thought the questions the reporters screamed at me were invasive, well… They looked like pretty lacey panties compared to the stuff online.

You’d think we’d miss all the fun posts about my life and marriage inside this swanky box, but no. Even the sports channel started covering it. The announcers for this very game mentioned me.

Several times.

The end of halftime signaled the end to my tolerance.

When two male announcers who were supposed to be talking football suddenly changed topic and started debating if I was in a box and not in the stands because I was either afraid to face reporters or I was upset because of the women in the stands, things got a little hard to avoid.

Anger started bubbling up inside me. It was a relatively new thing for me. Sure, I’d been angry before. Lots of times. But this was different.

This was the kind of anger that started as a small flame and grew brighter and hotter until, at its core, it was so white hot it burned blue. The kind of anger that bespoke of a mother bear protecting her cubs. I might not have any cubs to protect, but that instinct was still there.

The need to protect myself, my husband, and the life we had together was impossible to deny.

“What girls?” Ivy muttered after we’d both stared at the TV, nearly slack jawed from the announcers’ dialogue.

I had no idea. Perhaps being on a complete media blackout hadn’t been wise. Perhaps burying one’s head in the sand only got eyes full of dirt.

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