Hard Luck (Trophy Boyfriends 4)

“Yes,” he mumbles then directs his pout in Mateo’s direction. “She’s mean when she’s hormonal.”

Since Mateo is a smarter man than my brother, he doesn’t reply.

But I do.

“I’m not being mean, Buzz. I’m fed up with your hovering—there’s a big difference.”

He scoffs. “Potato, po-tah-to.”

Buzz is infuriating.

In. Furiating.

I’m not in the mood for this.

When the door to the laundry room opens and Tripp comes walking through it, I sigh with relief. He’s always a good buffer when I need brotherly Buzz to ease up on me.

“Hey, Mateo.” He nods toward my…non-boyfriend, setting his car keys on the counter and directing his gaze toward our brother. “Why are you here?”

Again.

“Can’t a guy come check on his preggo my eggo?”

Leggo my eggo. Ha ha, good pun, moron.

I wonder what he’s like at home with Hollis.

Horrible, I imagine.

I sigh. “Would you please tell him to stop checking in on me? I’m not a child. Mom hasn’t even been this bad.”

Mateo and I video-chatted with my parents to break the news since they’re not in town and have no idea when they’re coming back. I actually thought about flying to Florida to do it in person, but…

Modern technology saved me a trip.

Obviously, my mother cried and vowed to fly home the first chance they got, after Dad played golf with his buddies, of course—the main reason they’re down south in the first place.

It was their first opportunity to meet Mateo, and considering the circumstances, I’d say it went…great?

I think.

“Hey sweetie, how are you!” Mom has her reading glasses on so she can see the phone screen better, her face so close to the camera I have to tell her to move back. Or set it down somewhere and lean it against something.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s coming, nugget, don’t worry.”

A silence follows as she finally notices Mateo sitting next to me on Tripp’s couch.

“Who’s this now?”

Dad chooses that moment to plop down, too. “Hey—that’s José Espinoza.” He turns to Mom. “True, that’s José Espinoza.”

Out of respect, I don’t roll my eyes. “I know who it is, Dad.”

“Okay, but what’s he doing there?”

“We’re…friends.” Shoot, that sounded terrible. The last thing I want to do is downplay our connection right out of the gate. “We’re together, I mean. Together.”

“Dating?” Dad asks. “You’re dating a ballplayer?” He sits back in the kitchen barstool he’s occupying, crossing his arms and looking pleased as punch. “Well I’ll be damned. Who’d have thought.”

Me.

I would have thought because when have I ever not dated athletes or coaches or staffers?

“How nice!” Mom enthuses. “It’s good to meet you, José. I wish we were in town—we could have had dinner. I make the most amazing lasagna.”

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer soon, ma’am. Um. Mrs. Wallace.”

I don’t miss Mom nudging Dad with her elbow. “Did you hear that, Roger? He called me ma’am.”

“I heard him, Genevieve.”

“Where did the two of you meet?” She’s got her face in the camera again, trying to get a better look at us. The thing is, she can’t do that unless we move closer to our camera. Still doesn’t stop her.

“Officially? Buzz and Hollis’s wedding,” Mateo supplies. “True and I shared a dance and then I sweet-talked her into sharing a drink with me.”

That’s not all he sweet-talked me into, I want to add.

I can feel the sly grin forming on my face.

Pfft. Shared a dance…

Hilarious.

“You were too busy wrangling the Two Stooges,” I tease, referring to my brothers. No matter where they go, one of them causes a scene, and the wedding reception was no exception.

Mom forgets her manners and grunts. “Don’t remind me. The video of Tripp spread out on the ballroom floor pops up every so often on my Instagram discover feed.”

Um.

Okayyy…

“It was a wedding none of us will ever forget,” Mateo says. “For other reasons.”

I clear my throat, grateful for the segue. “Well, see, Mom and Dad…that’s what I called to tell you. Mateo and I…well.” I let out a long steady breath, Mateo’s hand going to my back the same way it did when we told my brother.

Gosh, why is it so hard breaking news like this!

It’s happy news!

News that should be done in person, not over the damn phone, and certainly not in a video chat!

But—I want to know if the baby is a girl or a boy, and once I do that the entire thing is going to feel more real than it already does, and if I keep the secret from my folks any longer, I might burst from guilt and excitement.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

She can tell just by the look on my face that something is up. Not wrong, just…not right.

Is that the kind of mother I’m going to be? One who just…knows?

With freaky-deaky intuition like my mother has?

God I hope so.

“Sweetie, what is it? You can tell us.”

Mateo’s hand is still on my back.