Page 47 of Draft Pick

"Really?"

I smiled angelically.

Cason sighed, realizing I wasn't going to budge. Drawing a deep breath, he pushed forward but looked like a man who was knowingly signing his death warrant. "I know you're a beautiful curvy woman and I should have been proud to stand beside you no matter what anyone said, but I wasn't brave enough to do that." His voice faltered a little bit, and it made me want to reach out and touch his hand, but I made myself stay still. "The thing is, my life is total chaos right now and the pressure is unreal. Everyone thinks they have a say in the way my life turns out — except me. Between my dad trying to live out his dreams through me or my mom hyper-obsessed with my social life, and my coach constantly taking every little thing I do on the field personal, I can't catch a break. I didn't think I could handle one more complication — and so, I let you go."

"And you think things will be less complicated with a kid on the way?" I asked dubiously, refusing to be further hurt by the fact that he'd rejected me because of my size. I was used to being overlooked or passed over, but it stung extra sharp coming from Cason. I'd wanted to believe he was different. But my hurt feelings weren't the main point. "From everything you just said…why aren't you willing to just sign away your parental rights? I swear I won't chase after you begging for support. I'm prepared to do this on my own. If you want I'll even sign paperwork ensuring that I won't ask for money at any point."

"Starlie, no," Cason said, frustrated that I kept pushing him away. "When I heard you were pregnant, none of that stuff mattered anymore because this baby isn't just yours or mine — it's ours." He brought his gaze up again and held my gaze. I tried not to squirm at the intensity between us. "I'm not gonna lie and say it's not complicated because when two people come together there are always going to be complications. But if we work together — if we trust each other — then we can get through anything that comes our way."

"That's a nice sentiment but you and I both know that's not how life works."

"It does sometimes," he disagreed, refusing to give up. I'd give him props for persistence, but it seemed doomed, so why start? "I don't even know when you're due. I need to know everything. I need all the details," he said, pulling his phone, ready to take down notes. "I spent a lot of time searching the Internet for information on pregnancy, but without the specifics, I was kinda flying blind. I mean, you can't be further along than eight weeks, right? So, that's a…uh, what's it called — lima bean — no, kidney bean-sized baby from what I read. Am I right?"

I didn't want to be moved. He'd researched the pregnancy timeline? Probably used a calendar to pinpoint within a few days when I'd gotten pregnant, and I softened against my will.

I nodded, admitting, "My due date is May 25, give or take a few days. The doctor says new babies can come two weeks early or late."

His gaze fastened on my stomach, and I blushed, automatically caressing the bump that wasn't quite there yet. "May I?" He asked.

I startled, unsure. "What do you mean?"

"I just want to…I don't know, let the baby know I'm here."

"The baby can't hear yet," I reminded him, fighting a smile. Damn him for being adorably clueless. "You can't even tell I'm pregnant yet. If it hadn't been for the fact that I wake up like clockwork to barf first thing in the morning, and my clothes are a little tight, I wouldn't have known either. My periods have never been all that regular."

"Seems weird to talk about that stuff, huh?" He asked, grinning. "I mean, it shouldn't because, you know, I've seen you naked six ways from Sunday but…periods seem like a different conversation."

I laughed through my embarrassment. "Right? It's definitely not exactly date-night material — but then again, we've never actually dated so…" I shrugged.

"So, let's fix that," he said.

"Fix what?"

"Let me date you," he returned as if that would solve all our problems.

"How would we do that? We have nothing in common. I hate football."

"Well, I won't ask you to put on pads and join me on the field," he promised.

I chuckled in spite of myself. "You know what I mean. I don't like to watch football either."

"That's okay, I watch enough football for the both of us. I know you like to go to the beach with your metal detector. We could do that again."

Immediately, memories of our beach day filled my mental theater, and I couldn't stop the hitched breath, he knew where my mind had gone — he didn't seem sorry about it either.

"Actually, I owe you dinner," he recalled. "Let me follow through. I promise I can actually cook."

I knew the right answer was to politely but firmly turn him down and remind him why it was better that we part ways civilly and move on with our lives, but I found myself hesitating. Maybe dinner would be my closure. The thing was, before ghosting me, my time with Cason had been absolutely perfect — a wonderful change from what it'd been like with Derek — and I craved more.

No one was perfect, obviously.

But maybe I ought to get to know Cason better, seeing as my baby had half his DNA.

"Let's say for argument's sake, I was willing to do dinner…with no promise that I won't still come to the same conclusion about your involvement…would you still be willing to do this?"

"I'll take whatever window is open to me," he said, but added with a wink, "however, once you taste my steak and mashed potatoes, you're going to marry me."

It was a bold claim, even in jest, but my heart stuttered a little. This man and I had made a baby together.

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