Page 104 of Hooked On Them

I let out a laugh that bordered on hysterical. “I just confessed to my boss that I’m in a relationship with three men, one of whom basically signs my paychecks. Okay isn’t in the same zip code as what I am right now.”

“Fair point.” He smiled with the real smile he reserved for private moments, not the cockiness he showed the world. “But the truth is out now. At least part of it.”

“Yeah.” I exhaled slowly, feeling a strange lightness beneath the anxiety. “No more hiding who GB’s father is.”

He placed his hand on my belly, and as if on cue, our daughter kicked again, right against his palm. His eyes widened with that same wonder I’d seen earlier.

“I think she approves,” he murmured, and then bent to press a soft kiss to my lips.

This time, I didn’t pull away. The secret was already out; we might as well embrace it. I curled my fingers into the front of his practice jersey, holding him close for a moment longer.

“No matter what happens next,” I whispered against his lips, “I don’t regret this. Any of it.”

“Me neither, Coach.” His forehead rested against mine. “Not for a second.”

Chapter33

Tiny Socks

Nora

I’d never considered myself a sock person until now. But here I was, thirty-six weeks pregnant, standing in the middle of the nursery, clutching a basket of tiny socks as if they explained how I got here. Each pair was smaller than my thumb, some with ridiculous animal faces, others with grips on the bottom that would be useless until months after she was born. Why was I emotional over anti-slip features for a human who wouldn’t even be walking until next year?

“Are you crying over baby socks?” Paige’s voice cut through my hormonal fog. “This is peak nesting behavior.”

I sniffled, hastily wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m not crying. They’re so small. Like, unreasonably small. What if I lose one? What if I lose her foot inside one?”

Paige laughed, moving around the nursery and running her fingers over the pale yellow curtains that complemented the soft gray walls. Sunshine streamed through the windows, highlighting the intricate mobile of stars and moons that Carter had made himself.

“Your child isn’t going to have detachable feet. Though with your gene pool, she’s probably going to pop out doing a triple axel.”

I carefully placed the basket of socks on the changing table that Miles had meticulously researched for two weeks before selecting, insisting that ergonomics were crucial even for diaper changes. The entire nursery was a perfect blend of all three men. Dominic had added feminine hockey touches, Miles incorporated thoughtful organization, and Carter’s artistic flair was evident in the hand-painted mural spanning one wall.

“Can you believe this is all happening? Six months ago, I was having a full-blown panic attack over telling Dominic I was pregnant, and now we’re all living together in this ridiculously perfect brownstone with a nursery that looks like it was ripped straight out of a design magazine.” I pressed my hands against my lower back, trying to alleviate the constant ache that had become my companion in the third trimester.

Paige came to stand beside me, her eyes suspiciously misty. “What I can’t believe is that you snagged not one, not two, but three incredible men who are all falling over themselves to take care of you and GB.”

“Don’t you start crying too,” I warned, feeling my own eyes welling up again. “If you cry, I’m going to ugly cry, and then my face will be all puffy for the watch party.”

“I’m really happy for you.” Paige looped her arm through mine. “You were so scared about being pregnant, and now look at you. You’re glowing.”

“I’m not glowing. I’m sweating. Constantly. Do you know how hard it is to coach from the sidelines while feeling like you’ve swallowed a basketball? A basketball that practices river dance on your bladder every twenty minutes?”

“Speaking of coaching, are you ready for the possibility of facing off against your dad in the Finals?”

The question hit me squarely in the chest. With the Pacific Storm having already clinched their spot, it was a very real possibility.

“It’s weird.” I absently rubbed my swollen belly as GB delivered an enthusiastic kick. “Dad’s hanging it up after this season, and part of me wants him to go out with a Cup. But then there’s Miles and Dom...”

“And the team you’ve helped build.”

I nodded, letting my eyes wander over the nursery again. “I’ve been trying not to think about it too much. Part of me still can’t believe we’re potentially going to the Finals. And another part of me is terrified I’m going to go into labor during Game Seven.”

“That would be quite the dramatic entrance.”

“Don’t even joke about that. Dom would probably try to deliver her himself in the middle of the penalty box rather than miss the third period.” A laugh bubbled up from my chest at the thought, easing some of the tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying. “We should probably join the others.”

As I waddled—because there was no other dignified way to describe my current method of locomotion—out of the nursery, I cast one last glance at the room that would soon hold our daughter.

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