“Are you going to admit what you did?”
He dropped the warmth against my cheek. “No. Why would I do that?”
“To own up to it. To be honest with the AFA and your fans.”
“Before I left Sunday, we said something to each other.”
I’d never forget it. The way the word had rolled off his tongue. The moment I knew he owned more than just my body.
I nodded my head.
“And I do. I love you, Lennon. But you can’t ask me to do this. I’m not going public. My agent has a way to kill the story and the investigation. It’s going to take a huge chunk of my savings, but I’ve got new endorsements lined up. I’ll recover the money in three months, tops.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re not serious. You’re going to live with this lie?”
“It’s done. My hand is healed. I deserve to play in the Super Bowl. If I confess, it will ruin every man’s life on the Wranglers. Their kids’ lives. Their wives’ lives. I’m not going to do that to them just because you think it would make me an instantly morally acceptable man.”
I closed my eyes. This wasn’t the way I thought it would go. I thought the plan would be to hold a press conference and explain the medical transformation that had taken place. I thought he would want honesty and forgiveness.
“I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to change. You warned me, didn’t you?”
My hand gently tapped my stomach. What if I was pregnant? Could I have a baby with a man who lied to the world? A man who would cheat just to win? What kind of mother would I be if I let a liar raise my child?
I stood and walked into the bedroom. I couldn’t look at his beautiful green eyes another second. He wanted acceptance from me. He needed it. And I couldn’t give it.
Wes followed me, and I felt the nausea rising higher in my throat.
“Lennon, I need you. Baby, you’re the best thing in my life. I see it. I know it. But you have to realize…”
He was going on about how I had to buy in to his gray world of winning and losing, cheating and lying, when I rushed to the toilet, lifted the lid, and threw up.
“Shit, are you okay?” He stood behind me.
I wiped my mouth and looked up at him. “I think I’m pregnant.”
27
Wes
“Pregnant?” I dropped to the tile floor next to her. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah, holy shit.” She heaved into the toilet bowl a second time, and I held her hair.
When she was finished, she stood and walked to the sink. I stared at her while she brushed her teeth.
“I haven’t taken a test yet, but I’m late. I’m never late. And I’ve been nauseated. And then there’s the vomiting.”
I nodded as if I knew the pregnancy symptoms. What I knew was pregnancy threats. Women who showed up at my door, wanting money. But there were never any babies. Just money-hungry whores.
“So what do we do?” I crossed my arms.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t going to tell you like this. Not until after the game. But it feels like everything is so screwed up already, so why not? Right?”
God, I looked at her. Her cute nose, and those hips that had me on my knees. The woman who had taken the control from my grasp. And she was carrying my child. My baby. Our baby.
I walked toward her. “You’re so beautiful to me. Sexy and smart. And to know that we made a baby together…” I felt a lump in my chest. An overwhelming need to protect her and our new family. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that, Doc?”
“You’re not mad?”