Page 52 of Christmas Cheer

He’d be my happily-ever-after.

I’m not ignorant, though, and I don’t know how to make everything click together. I don’t know what my happily-ever-after looks like now. In fact, I don’t know that I ever thought I’d have one. Happily-ever-after was never nearly as important as security. Safety. Comfort.

Evan smiles in his sleep. Or maybe it’s just the way his face is smushed into the pillow. Either way, it’s sweet. It makes my heart swell.

He reaches for me once more, but when his hand gets only bedding, he makes a grumbling sound and cracks his eyes open. “Mmm, that’s loud thoughts,” he murmurs, his voice deep and resonant with sleep. This time, he knows where to reach and easily drags me back to him, shifting and settling as though he’s going back to sleep.

“We should get up soon. We have to get you to the airport.”

“I’m thinking about staying longer.”

“You have class on Monday.”

“My professors love me. I bet I could work something out with them.”

He sounds serious. And because there’s a little voice inside me celebrating the idea, I pull myself out of his grasp and sit up. “You have to go back to Wilmington.”

He flops onto his back and scowls. “I don’t want to. Not if you’re not there with me.”

“Evan. Seriously. Regardless of what happened this week, you knew you were flying back to Wilmington and I was staying here.”

“I know. I get it. And I knew you were still going to be mad at me, that one week together wasn’t going to be enough to fix what I did. And I refuse to tell you I’m sorry or I regret it because I’m not and I don’t. Maybe you could have come up with a better way to do this, but I couldn’t.” He flops onto his side to face me. “And I am so fucking excited to be a dad. You have no idea. On Christmas Eve, I would have told you we needed to wait until, I don’t know, 40? But now that it’s going to happen in just a couple months, I wish it was now. I wish I was already holding our baby and buying our first house and getting married and spending the rest of our lives together. Right now. So yeah, I knew today was going to hurt and I deserved it for what I did, but I’m selfish and I don’t want to hurt. I just want to skip to the good stuff.”

With a dramatic grumble, he grabs the blanket and tugs it to keep himself covered as he flops onto his other side.

His wish sounds really good, like something I want, too. I can’t say that, though, so I curl up behind him. He grabs my hand in his, and we rest for just a few minutes more.

At the airport, I kiss him and wish him a safe flight. He tells me he loves me and will talk to me soon. I get back into the town car the hotel provided for us as Evan heads toward the entrance to the airport.

“Wait, I gotta tell him something!” I tell the driver as I roll down the window. “Hey, Allore? Take the deal with the Juggernauts. I’ll see you in Wilmington in May.”

Never one to let me have the last word, Evan shouts back, “You’ll see me here as soon as I’m done with finals. Someone’s gotta help you pack!”

I seriously don’t need help, but I know there’s no stopping him. What Evan Allore wants, Evan Allore gets.

The jersey stoppedfitting during the pre-season, but Evan’s just as needy and insistent that I wear it as ever. I’ve got it bunched up over the bump, which is covered by a matching maroon full-coverage belly band, but it’s like a beacon for everyone’s hands up in the owner’s box. I’m thankful to be in that box, though, so I’m not about to shoo Tamara Godwell’s hand away while we celebrate the win that just happened.

“I’m not usually one to give gratuitous thanks,” she says, “but yet again, I need to thank you. We’ve got a couple rough years ahead of us, but Allore’s been worth every penny. You let me know whenever you’re ready to start, if it’s this January or next January, and I’ll be happy to accommodate whatever you need.”

I blush, although it’s probably a hot flash. My Braxton Hicks have been awful all day. “Honestly, I’m not the high maintenance one. It’s a bit embarrassing that Evan got so dramatic about everything. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could be self-sufficient, and he went berserk.” I’m not about to tell the owner the full drama of what Evan did or how it’s partially my fault that he put the Juggernauts’ management into that position. Yeah, I shouldn’t have forced him to come to Germany to get me to talk to him.

But he shouldn’t have lied to me about birth control, so we’re even. Not even that; he still owes me. We’ll figure out how he can repay me someday.

On the big screen, they’re telecasting the interview one of the CBS Sports reporters is giving to Blaise Sinclair, the quarterback. He’s the guy that gets the spotlight these days, with good reason. He’s easily top five in the league. He’s also a nightmare to work with, but the cameras love him.

I’d like to say that Evan has accepted this gracefully and understands that he’s not going to have that media presence anymore, but as Blaise starts to give a non-sensical answer about what he thinks broke their recent losing streak, Evan jumps into frame.

“I’m gonna be a dad tomorrow!” he screams, announcing to the entire goddamn country — at least the people watching the game — that we’re inducing labor tomorrow. I feel like this is a violation of my HIPAA rights, but he’s violated everything else of mine at this point.

And somehow, I love the dipshit.

He’s hopping up and down behind Blaise, who I’d feel sorry for except the guy’s a dick.

“I’m gonna be a girl dad, I even have a tutu picked out for myself!”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, mortified, to Tamara. “It’s crimson and goldenrod, at least.” That’s everything these days. My necklace now has a third set of charms in ruby and topaz. Evan’s already plotting out what he needs to do to make sure he never gets traded.

Tamara laughs so hard she has to fold in half to stop wheezing. “It’s fine. It’s probably great. PR’s gonna go wild on this. Let me know if you need to borrow someone to handle your social media. I promise they’ll be respectful.”

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