Listen, Pitch (There's No Crying in Baseball 3)
Page 48
But, after my period had come and gone a few days ago, we’d been a little disheartened.
Luckily, we had our backup plan in place, and today was the day that we got this entire thing started.
“You okay?”
I untangled my shoes from my pants and then slipped the shorts back on.
I forwent putting the panties on. They were so wet that I knew they’d be uncomfortable.
Rhys, watching me, reached for them, and then slipped them into his pocket while offering me a wink.
I blushed while surreptitiously watching him dress out of the corner of my eye.
But I didn’t object to his panty snatching ways. If I were being honest, I liked the way he was so over the top sometimes.
“Ready, Freddy?” I asked once I had my shoes on.
He winked and bent for the cup.
Once he had it in his hand, he placed it on the counter where we were instructed to leave it once we were done and headed for the door.
I was proud to say that I only blushed for a few seconds as we passed a few of the nurses.
Luckily, I missed the way their eyes were filled with envy as he guided me down the hall to my own appointment.
***
After much discussion, we’d decided to place two embryos in each surrogate.
Rhys was at my side as they harvested the eggs, and not once did he let go of my hand.
And later that night, we were informed that if all went well, tomorrow morning the fertilized eggs would be placed in our donors.
Our entire life was about to change.Chapter 25When you say something really fucked up out loud, and everyone thinks you’re kidding. But you’re not kidding.
-Rhys’ secret thoughts
Rhys
Two weeks later
All four embryos have been implanted and have taken. If all goes well, you should both be parents in exactly eight months and…
“Hoooooah!”
Strike two.
“Get your head in the game, motherfucker!” Coach called from the dugout.
I winced and looked at the pitcher.
My eyes watched as he dragged his knuckles against the laces of the ball, and I read the ball as it came off his fingertips. Knuckleball.
I planted my right foot, then swung where I expected the ball to be. And connected.
The ball flew like a missile straight through the infield, splitting the two players in center and right field.
The ball hit the wall, and I was already halfway to second base.
I rounded second and hit third and was about to head home when the third base coach held me at third. “Stop!”
I did, coming to a halt on the bag and looking around.
The ball hit the pitcher’s glove two seconds later, and I aimed an angry look at the third base coach. “Could’ve made that.”
Maybe.
The third base coach, Danny Dan Daniels—his real name was Daniel Daniels, no shit—shrugged.
He didn’t seem like he cared one single fuck, even though I knew he did.
“You’ve been off your game tonight,” he eyed me. “I didn’t want you to get thrown out at home when we need the run.”
He was right.
I had been off my game tonight.
Bad.
And all of it had to do with the phone call that Henley had relayed to me.
Four kids.
Four fucking embryos had ‘taken.’
Goddammit.
That was a whole lot of fucking kids.
And four likely meant that I’d never have any more with Henley the right way.
For some reason, that really fucking bothered me.
Like, way more than it probably should have.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Rivera! Run, goddammit!”
That was said by both the third base coach, and the head coach that was all the way back in the dugout across the entire damn field.
I ran.
And made it back just in time for the ball to come flying at my head.
I slid on my belly and touched the plate with the tip of two fingers as I slid completely away from the catcher who was inches away from touching my face with the leather of his glove.
“Close one,” the pitcher drawled.
I looked up and offered my old friend my hand.
“You’ll never catch me,” I told him.
Rhodes locked his hand with mine.
“You doing okay?” He looked at me in concern.
I let go of his hand and dusted myself off, my eyes automatically going to the stands for my wife—who I knew wasn’t there.
Henley had the flu, just like the rest of the county, state, and country.
Unfortunately for her, it also came with strep throat, bronchitis, and pneumonia.
I’d left her in the care of her sister at home, and I’d been looking at her empty goddamn seat all night.
I was fuckin’ lost without her, and honestly? That scared the shit out of me.
It was as if, one day, I’d woken up and she’d become the center of my world.
Literally.
From the moment that I’d woken from that coma, my life had irrevocably changed.
I didn’t scare her. I didn’t intimidate her. I didn’t hate her.
I fucking loved her.