Higgins makes some unbelievable catch, and Luke mutters a curse.
“Why’s it a bad thing he made that catch?” I ask.
He gives me that same look as before, and then he sighs. “This is his chance to prove he’s more valuable than me, and he’s doing it. Handily. They won’t negotiate a new contract with me because they won’t need me anymore.” He shakes his head and keeps his eyes focused on the screen.
“Not even as a back-up?” I ask. I don’t know how this works.
“They’re not gonna pay me to be a back-up.”
“But someone else might,” I point out.
He lifts a shoulder. “Yeah.” He’s made it clear before that he doesn’t want to play somewhere else. He wants to stay with the Aces. But from what I’ve learned from the other football wives, these men don’t really get much of a say in it. It’s a business, and transactions are made based on that fact.
“I wish I could fucking be there today,” he says. He glares down at his knee as if that’ll change things. It doesn’t.
“Do you still want to play?” I ask.
I get the look. Again.
“Then eat your damn sandwich,” I scold.
He flattens his lips and his nostrils flare, but then, miraculously, he picks it up and takes a bite.
I don’t want to treat him like a child, but if he’s going to act like one, then I will.
After all, now’s as good a time as any to start learning how to deal with children since I might have one of my own soon.
CHAPTER 10
The road to Thursday is long.
I’m nervous about my doctor appointment, and I’m keeping it close to the vest so I don’t even have anyone to talk to about it. I almost slip to Nicki when she talks about how she’s nearly at the second trimester, which is supposed to be much smoother sailing than the first, but I manage to cover it up.
I almost slip again when Josh asks if I want a glass of wine one night when they come over for dinner. I tell him I’m not drinking in solidarity with Luke, who isn’t supposed to be mixing alcohol with painkillers.
With Michelle out of the house, we can rest easy knowing any conversations we have are safe—provided she didn’t plant a bug, which I wouldn’t put past her.
Still, though, with everything going on, I feel like it’s best to just keep quiet about it until it’s confirmed by a doctor and not a drugstore test.
It’s Wednesday night before I finally get Luke to talk.
He just took his pain meds, and he’s in a better mood than he has been the last couple days as I’ve let more and more slide when it comes to the way he treats me. I often think back on Josh’s words not to take any shit from Luke, and I’m afraid it’s too late. On the other hand, I also think back on Luke’s words to be patient with him. I know the man I fell in love with is in there underneath this grumpy exterior, and I’ll get him back. He just needs a little TLC.
“You haven’t really talked about how you’re feeling about the fact that Michelle’s baby isn’t yours,” I begin as we sit down to Debbie’s world-famous shredded chicken tacos.
He grunts and takes a bite of his taco, and I wait patiently for his answer. I stare across the table at him with raised brows, and when he glances up and catches my eye, he sighs.
I know he doesn’t want to have this conversation, but it’s important to me. I need to know where he stands on having kids in general. He mentioned to me that he wants kids with me sometime down the road...but that was before the injury.
“Relieved,” he finally says.
That was sort of my fear, but before I read too much into his answer, I get him to clarify. “Why?”
He clears his throat and looks past me out the window. “You know I want kids someday down the line, but I never wanted them with her. I guess I’m just relieved I won’t be tied to her for the rest of my life.” He shakes his head and his eyes move to mine. “In some ways I will be if it’s really Jack’s, but at least she won’t be my problem. You know?”
I nod, satisfied with that answer. Until he continues.
“But it’s not just that. Right now...it’s not just bad timing. I’ve got rehab. I’ve got a long road ahead of me. I don’t know what next year will look like, or even beyond that. I need a stable future before I can even begin to think about kids. And I need to be selfish to get healthy. Worrying about her pregnancy and delivery and then having a newborn, it’s all just too much. But it’s Jack’s problem now.”
I press my lips together and force any emotions tightening my chest away.
I get what he’s saying, but he’s saying these words a little preemptively. And now I’m even more terrified to go to this appointment tomorrow. When I get the official confirmation and due date and it all becomes real instead of some abstract idea...then what?
How do I tell him?
I clear my throat. “Jack’s problem?” I repeat. “Has he taken the test?”
Luke nods. “Confirmed. It’s his. Ninety-nine percent match.”
“How’d you find out?” My brows dip.
“He texted me this morning.”
“I didn’t know you two texted.” I take a bite of taco.
“Well we do. I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He says it like he’s musing, but it’s true—and it cuts deeper than it should.
* * *
I pre-filled out the paperwork online, so when I arrive for my appointment, all I have to do after I check in is leave a urine sample then sit and wait for my name to be called.
The urine sample thing sounds pretty self-explanatory, right?
It’s not. Nobody really tells you what to do, and in true Ellie falling into the pool at my brother’s wedding fashion, I have no idea how to do this.
I’m nervous and anxious about this appointment, particularly after Luke’s words last night, so I’m distracted. And distracted Ellie is never a good thing.
I hover over a cup and do my best work, filling it about a quarter inch. I hope that’s enough because I didn’t know I was going to have to do this and the tank is empty.
I set the cup on the floor once I’m done so I can pull up my pants, and when I move to flush, I kick it over on accident.
My quarter inch spills all over my shoes.
I gasp as I stare at the floor, and then I heave out a heavy sigh as I try to clean up both my shoes and the floor with some combination of toilet paper and paper towels. The floor is mostly dry, but it smells like ammonia in here.
I chug some sink water, which nearly makes me gag, and force out another sixteenth of an inch, careful not to knock it over this time.
And the best part? I get to tell the lady at the front desk the bathroom floor needs some disinfecting.
As my brother would say...only you, Ellie.
Once I’m back in the waiting room and nobody sits by me because my shoes smell, the ultrasound technician calls me in.
I sit on the table just as I saw Michelle do not so long ago, and the tech squirts the same jelly on my stomach. She moves it around with her magic wand, and I see a bunch of lines on the screen.
Then I hear a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sound.