Page 51 of Good Guy Gabe

“I love you, Joss. I want to marry you and spend my life with you and raise a family with you. I want it all. Whatever you want, I want more. But if you don’t want this baby, either because you don’t want the risk of another pregnancy or you’re not interested in having kids anymore, I respect that. This is your body, and I would never expect you to do something you don’t want to do with it.”

I can’t believe he just said that.

I can’t believe I’m this lucky this time around.

Here I go crying again.

“I said that wrong, didn’t I?” Gabe mutters. “Dammit. I was saving the love thing for the right moment, and I thought this was it.”

I hug him as best as I can even though his shoulders are too broad for me to ever hope of getting around him. I’m gross and wet and snotty. My head hurts from crying out all my hydration, and I’m starving. I don’t know what I’m doing, and there’s so much that needs to be done — I remember exactly how long eight months felt last time, and it was simultaneously an eternity and a blink of an eye — but in the moment, I laugh and say, “I want it all, too. And even though I’ve only known this baby for three seconds, I’m so much in love with them. And you. I love you so much.”

“Well, that’s great then. That’s perfect.”

Chapter 23

Gabe

JOSS

Do you need a Cohen Special on the way home?

IDON’T UNDERSTANDit at first, but then I glance over and see that despite this being our worst loss of the season so far, Drew Cohen’s got an absent grin on his face. I remember what Joss told me Mel does to make him feel better after losses.

Joss just offered to give me a blow job on the drive home tonight. Not going to happen, because I’ll be stressing way too much to enjoy it, but that means she’s feeling okay. I can’t see her from the field anymore, not in the new seats she’s in, and Cora’s out of town, so I got tickets for Rose and Iris. I’m sure they had a blast, but they aren’t quite Cora. This gives me some breathing room.

We’ve got an away game for Thanksgiving next week and then another home game before we’re both going to Minnesota for the game there and my family’s holiday party. By the time we’re back, Tilly will be in town and able to go to the games. I wish there was someone younger and more able-bodied to hang out with Joss during the first December game, but Joss keeps reminding me that I stress too much.

I stress about whether my truck with its extended cab is good for a baby or if I need to trade it in for an SUV. I stress that Joss wasn’t taking folic acid before she got pregnant. I stress overwhether she’ll like the engagement ring I’m picking out. I stress she’s going to miscarry. I stress about my fears and greed and stupid lies hurting her all over again.

I stress about the ghost of Brian Edgars haunting her to this day and how little control I have over that.

But I do have a little control.

I glance over my shoulder.

Evan’s staring right at me.

I quickly look away, only to remember he’s literally the guy I was going to talk to. I look at him again, and he shoots me an uncomfortable smile.

“Joss is pregnant,” I tell him.

We’re in this great big locker room, and yeah, everyone’s shuffling in and out of clothes, slamming their doors, talking to each other. The showers are running full blast around the corner from us. But Evan and I are a couple yards away from each other, and I just kind of blurted that out.

To the entire team.

The room goes still. Plenty of the guys around me are married with kids. Or divorced with kids. Or never married with kids with three different women and child support so high that he didn’t have a choice but to move into what Joss described, accurately enough, as a frat house. Pregnancy announcements aren’t all that unusual, unless they are. Unless there’s a reason to think this might not be a happy announcement.

Everyone turns to me, assessing me with scrutinizing eyes.

And then on one side of me, Blaise slaps my shoulder and says, “Youhavebeen banging her, rock on!” while Merrick rolls his eyes with, “There are condomseverywherein the house.”

I shove them both off with a laugh that gets the team moving again, several guys giving me congratulations and praising Joss, plenty grabbing their phones to fire off texts to make sure no one else has a bun in their partner’s oven. This is the sort of thing that spreads like wildfire with the WAGs. Morales and Allore both had babies last season, Huang’s newborn is absolutely the chunkiest of monkeys and made his debut at Monday night team dinner last week, now I’ve got one on the way? Men are scared.

Once everything quiets back down, I look back to Allore. He’s the first to take a step forward, but I meet him in the middle.

“Congratulations,” he says after a beat, nodding to himself like he’s satisfied with how it felt saying that. “You deserve it, man. You’re great with kids.”

“I don’t deserve it.” I shake my head to clear the thoughts that come with that. I didn’t earn anything; I lied and manipulated and got so fucking lucky that it worked. I could never admit to Evan what I did, so I clarify with, “I don’t deserve Joss. She’s amazing.Amazing.”

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