Page 79 of Pieces

“Good,” he says, smirking now. “Because I’m gonna need them for when I inevitably screw up.”

“You’re not going to screw up,” I say, and I truly believe that. I’ve never met anyone like Hudson. He’s confident and not afraid to be who he is, not to mention he’s emotionally secure in a way that makesmefeel more secure, and how that’s possible, I don’t know. But he’s constantly showing up for me and being there in every way that I need.

With his eyes locked on mine, his usual playful energy is replaced by something softer. “Thanks, Daph.”

I want to kiss him, to show him how grateful I am for everything he’s doing. But we’ve had a few moments now when he could’ve kissed me and he hasn’t. Despite him saying he wants to wear me down at the party, he hasn’t made a move yet. Do I need to give him more signs? DoIneed to make the first move? The idea of that makes me feel nauseous, more so than normal, because the fear of rejection is strong inside me. It’s probably best I don’t kiss him; it’ll only complicate things. Or would it?

I manage a small smile, even as my mind reels. “So…tomorrow, library?”

He nods with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Tomorrow, library,” he echoes, his tone lighter now. “And maybe a coffee stop, because I’m definitely gonna need caffeine for all this research.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Are you gonna buy me a hot milk this time?”

“Am I ever gonna live that down?” He buries his head into his hand.

“It was cute, but no, never.”

Just as I reach for the door handle, he stops me. “Oh, hey, can I have the extra sonogram?”

“Sure,” I say.

“I thought I’d keep it, you know, in my wallet.”

My chest squeezes so hard it actually aches. I hand him the photo, my fingers trembling slightly, and I have to look away for a second, afraid he’ll see just how much this simple gesture is undoing me.

He takes it with a small smile, sliding it into his wallet like it belongs there, tucked in beside his ID. “Thanks,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t look up, his finger moving over the picture.

I step out of the car, the other sonogram still in my hand, and pause for a moment before closing the door. Leaning back down, I glance at him, my heart feeling way too full for my chest. “See you tomorrow, Hudson.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “See you tomorrow.”

Inside, I sit on my bed and stare at the picture again. It’s strange how something so small, so fragile, can feel like the most important thing in the universe. I trace the outline of the tiny, blurry shape with my thumb, a lump forming in my throat.

Then my phone rings. Liv’s picture flashes on my screen.

“Show me that baby!” she squeals excitedly before I can even get a hello in. Lifting the black-and-white picture to the video call, she immediately melts and starts crying.

“Don’t cry, I’ll cry. I can’t help it anymore; I’m like a leaky faucet.”

She cries anyway, and so do I.

“I love that baby so much already, Daph.” She wipes away the tears on her cheeks.

A hiccup of emotion gets lodged in my chest as I look at my best friend in the whole world. “I know. Me too, Liv.”

“Gah,” she breathes. “I’m sorry to call and run, but I’m heading into class, and I wanted to see before. Call me tomorrow? Love you!”

“Love you too.” And just like the tornado she is, she disappears.

Once I’ve calmed down, I glance around my dorm. My desk is covered in scattered pages from my notebook—scribbled plans for #MoreThanMoms, taglines, and notes about partnerships and athlete profiles. Some are already ready to go, waiting on my laptop. And it hits me all at once: this campaign and this baby are intertwined. I’m building both at the same time, nurturing them, trying to make something that matters. Something to find meaning in.

I glance at one of the drafts I started late last night and laugh.“Being a mom doesn’t mean losing yourself—it means finding more of who you are.”The line felt ambitious when I wrote it. But as I open my emails, I see the completed interview transcript from one of the girls on the soccer team, Sophie Morres. I’m sad I couldn’t meet her in person, since our schedules never fully matched, but when I emailed her, she was all for it. One of my questions for her was how she finds the balance between being a mom and an athlete in school.

“It’s not without challenges. Sometimes, I have to miss practice because my kid is sick, but that doesn’t mean I’m not staying awake until midnight, working out to catch up on techniques I’ve missed. It’s a balance, but one I know is good for our future.”

My hand rests over my stomach. Our future. That statement feels so real. How much she adores being a mom and an athlete, how important both are to her. This is exactly why I want to highlight this, because no one asks those questions. And they’re important.

So, with a deep breath, I bring up a new email and send off my first draft idea to CLUSports.

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