Page 90 of Pucked and Pregnant

LIV

Ilean my head against the wall in my bathroom and squeeze my eyes shut. I hate puking, but I hate the dizzy spells more. Being dizzy is a horrible feeling, and it seems to be the biggest part of my morning sickness experience for the past week.

I called in sick for a couple of days, just to get a break and try to catch up on some rest, but I can’t keep hiding out in my house forever. The boys have been worried about me, reaching out to ask if they could bring me food or just keep me company, but I told them that they didn’t need to risk getting sick with the big match on the horizon.

They reluctantly stayed away, settling for sending me lots of silly videos on social media and fun texting banter. I enjoyed their support from afar, which further cemented the realization that had slowly been dawning on me. I didn’t want to let them go again. I didn’t want to have to choose just one of them to be with. I wanted to be with all of them, and I wanted to spend every day of my life missing them because I loved them. All of them.

The word love whirled through my mind like a tornado. Everything I felt over the past few days was like that due to thespinning, loopy way that the baby was making me feel. However, I had to admit that the realization that I loved them would have probably impacted me the same way, no matter how I was feeling physically.

Love. That was a big step. But I had almost admitted it to Max in the car, and the thought had haunted me ever since, even though I had been trying to push it away.

I realized that I’ve loved all of them since we were kids. They all brought something special to the table. Honestly, I didn’t care which of them was the biological father of the baby, I wanted all of them to help me raise this child.

All I needed to do was figure out how to tell them. I hoped they would take it better than Max had. I didn’t think my pregnancy emotions could cope with another round of bickering and finger-pointing.

When I think about the kinds of things that they bicker over I roll my eyes. Heck, they even fight about who gets a specific mug for their coffee. I can’t imagine them handling who is the father of this baby with any more dignity beyond that.

I giggle at the thought of them arm wrestling or creating some goofy contest over who gets to call themselves the father of our child.

Their zany, competitive nonsense keeps me laughing, and it’s one of the things I love about them. Even when it drives me crazy.

My alarm chimes loudly and I fumble for it to turn it off. Today is the big game, and I need to be at my best. My career depends on what I can do today as I cover the game. I don’t have time to be getting sick and fainting.

The run-up to the Stanley Cup Finals, I think, my heart racing a little at the thought. Max and I had been dreaming of a Stanley Cup bid for different reasons but with equal passion ever since we were kids.

He had always planned to tackle the challenge on the ice, and I had always known that I wanted to get to cover the action on national TV. I remembered practicing covering games with the TV sound turned off, my Barbie microphone held to my lips as I made play calls and shared stats for my favorite players with my imaginary audience.

Max had been away at the rink, spending most days on the ice by that time, so I would have the downstairs TV all to myself.

I think about how much I actually honed my skills during that bit of make-believe in the family basement. I had learned to emulate the best of the best, and I often got complimented on my style, which I could only be indebted to the greats for.

“The greats didn’t have to deal with being pregnant though,” I groan as a new wave of nausea sweeps over me, making my skin break out into a cold sweat. I sigh and place my hands over my eyes, trying to breathe deeply through my nose.

Still want me to pick you up?

I squint one eye at my phone to read my brother’s text message. The press has been relentless, and as much as I wish I could just drive myself, I don’t think that it’s safe for me to do that right now.

Yes, please.I’m way too dizzy today to drive myself.

I get to my feet and lean against the counter in the bathroom for a moment before starting to sluggishly move through my morning routine.

Liv, you can call in sick, you know.

I blow out a breath and close one eye again as I start applying my makeup. He’s right, and on any other day, I would probably do so. But this is my moment, the thing I’ve waited to do for years. I’ve even survived Travis to get to this point. I want to be able to do this for myself before I have to take maternity leave. I still have to go to HR about that asshat.

I can do this. Just watch me.

I put on my favorite music to amp myself up and pop a Dramamine, hoping to control my motion sickness. My first pregnancy checkup is in a couple of days, and I plan to talk to the doctor about my lightheadedness and dizziness. Until then, I need to make this work on my own.

By the time that Max arrives to take me to the rink, I’m feeling fairly normal. I look down at my sensible flats and sigh. I wouldn’t be caught dead in these on the air, but for now, they make way more sense due to my impaired balance.

“You look nice,” Max says as he drives toward the rink.

I smile at him. “Thanks. I actually feel pretty good right now. I hope it lasts.”

Max eyes me, a worried expression on his face. “I don’t have to tell you that covering a game isn’t a matter of working for a few moments here or there,” he says.

“I know,” I say a little too harshly. “Sorry, hormones.”

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