Page 137 of Playboy

The cramps started this morning. Maybe I should have mentioned it, but I was certain they were Braxton Hickscontractions. There was no way I’d show up at the hospital just to be told I’m having gas pains, so I figured I’d wait it out. And I didn’t mention it to Daniel because I didn’t want him to be preoccupied on the ice.

But minutes after the game started, the cramps got intense, and after Daniel scored, the pain only compounded. Maybe it was the jumping up and down—not that the movement was all that abrupt; let’s be honest, I’m nine months pregnant; if I’d done more than bend my knees and bounce, I would have wet myself—or maybe it was the sharp contraction that hit just as I was sitting, but I was hit with an irrational fear that if I didn’t book it out of there, I’d be giving birth in Bolts Arena. And while I’m sure Beckett would swear that giving birth on any property owned by the Langfields was good luck, I wasn’t going to risk it.

“He scored again.”

“Great,” I grit out. “Now he can go for the hat trick and then come have a baby with me.”

Millie stares at me like I’m a toddler throwing a tantrum. Or maybe just a pregnant woman whom she thinks is being unreasonable. She’s about to patronize me with kind words, hoping to reason with me. I can see it in her eyes. “My brother would never forgive me if I didn’t tell him what was going on.”

“Millie.” I drag each syllable out as another contraction rolls through me.

Even though I want to yell at her, I take the hand she offers me and squeeze.

“Breathe,” she says, her tone gentle, as if she’s speaking to Vivi.

Is there a single word in the English language more annoying than that for a woman in labor?

I’m trying to take a breath, but there’s an anvil working its way through my body. How am I supposed to suffer through the sensationandremember to breathe? When the pain from thecontraction recedes, I fall back against the pillow and glare at the ceiling.

Millie hovers over me, her curly dark hair backlit by the dim lighting above her, and in that same voice she uses with her two-year-old, she says, “You’ve made Daniel the happiest I’ve ever seen him. You are going to be an incredible mother, and I’m so happy you’ll be my nephew’s mom. But I don’t keep secrets from my brother.”

I scowl at her, though my anger has evaporated. “Except when you were banging his coach.”

She laughs. “Touché.”

Ridiculously, I can’t help but smile. “Let’s get some rest before hurricane Daniel arrives.”

She laughs along with me, no doubt knowing exactly what I’m talking about. That man is sure to be in a tizzy until he sets his sights on me, and then he’ll be overbearing until he knows I’m all right.

As I rub my belly, tears prick my eyes. After today, I won’t feel this little guy kicking at my insides anymore. By this time tomorrow, I’ll have a baby in my arms instead. I’m going to be a mom.

FORTY-SIX

DANIEL

I snagmy shoulder on the automatic door as I rush into the lobby. Out of breath and out of my mind, I come to a sliding stop in front of a glass window. The pair of nurses who are chatting behind the desk pause and eye me. The older of the two holds up a finger and turns back to the younger nurse.

I’m sucking in a breath, preparing to launch into a tirade about how there’s no way in hell I’m going to wait while they catch up over coffee, but before I get a single word out, the other one’s mouth drops open. “Aren’t you Lake Paige’s son?”

Normally, I’d make some sort of face over this. Lake is only five years older than me. I amnother son. But if this woman wants to call me Lake Paige’s son or Baby Hall or any other thing, I’ll go with it. As long as it means it will get me back to Hannah faster. So I give her my best smile and nod. “That’d be me.”

“Oh my god,” the other one says.

“Listen, I’ll get you whatever signed memorabilia you want. Hell, I’ll even have Lake come say hi to you tomorrow, but what I need right now is Hannah Prescott’s room number.”

The woman on the left squints, suddenly suspicious. “Did you just come from a fight? Do you need to be seen by a doctor?”

Only now do I even consider what I’m wearing. During my grand exit from the game, I threw my jersey at Gavin. Then I walked straight out of the arena in my skates and pads. Thank god Sara chased me down with my wallet and my keys. She must have darted into the locker room after she filled me in on Hannah. I’m a sweaty mess, and the only reason I’m not barefoot right now is because I had an extra pair of shoes in my truck.

“Hockey game. I’m fine. The room number?” I inhale deeply, holding tight to the last thread of patience I possess.

“Are you family?” the other woman asks as she taps at her keyboard.

“Yeah, I’m her husband,” I lie. I should have done it before. I should be her husband. What the fuck was I thinking waiting for some perfect plan to come to fruition?

I was thinking a perfect proposal is what Hannah deserves, that’s what. She deserves to know that I want to marry her because I love her, not because she’s pregnant with my child.

Soon she’ll be the mother of my child. No longer pregnant. My heart rate skyrockets at the thought. Shit. I need to be with her. Now. Is she in pain? Is she giving birth already?

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