Quit Your Pitchin' (There's No Crying in Baseball 2)

I had to agree. At least, from what I’d seen and heard.

Little did I know how true that statement would become for me on a personal level.

“It’s nice to meet y—” Wrigley’s hand covered her mouth, and she started to look around frantically.

“Trash. Over there.” I pointed in the direction of the trash can.

Wrigley didn’t waste time running to it, dropping her head over the side of the big blue barrel, and losing what little I’d seen her eat during practice.

“Sooo…” Manny said. “You got her pregnant.”

I grinned.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”Chapter 7Nine months of vomiting, nausea, back pain, mood swings, sleepless nights…

…for you to come out looking exactly like your daddy.

-Wrigley’s secret thoughts

Wrigley

Twelve weeks later

“Are you nervous?” I whispered, looking over into George’s eyes.

George shook his head. “Not really. Anxious, yes. Nervous, no.”

He was my hero.

Seriously, all I did was worry, and all he did was reassure me.

We were a match made in heaven.

“But what if we look at him, and he looks like an alien? How do I bond with an alien life form?” I whisper-yelled into the quiet cab of my truck.

A truck he’d gone to buy about a week after me finding out I was pregnant with his child.

Apparently, his muscle car wasn’t suitable for a pregnant lady or his child, so that changed.

It changed by him buying the biggest, most sturdy truck he could find, and applying every single safety feature he could to the vehicle before he brought it home.

He even had a ‘Baby on Board’ sticker in the back window…despite there not being a baby on board yet.

“Our baby isn’t an alien,” he chuckled. “Our baby is a baby.”

I’d relayed a dream to him earlier in the day, and he’d been assuring me for the last half an hour that our baby wasn’t going to be one of those babies off of the Alien show he’d forced me to watch the night before.

A show that was about a pregnant woman on a space station. The woman astronaut had slept with a fellow astronaut, who just so happened to be possessed by an alien, creating an alien baby inside of her.

Hence the dreams.

“What I’m not going to do is allow you to watch any more shows that have to do with babies,” he replied under his breath.

I turned away so he wouldn’t see my smile.

“I watched the Hallmark channel yesterday, and there was this baby that was switched at birth with another baby that was born down the hall. The woman’s actual baby died due to the woman’s neglect, and her ‘baby’ lived. Then, when the hospital realized another child at that same hospital, born on the same day, had been switched, they reviewed records. And records indicated that another pair of babies had been switched as well. The woman lost her ‘baby’ and had to return it to the other woman. Only she didn’t have a baby to get returned and went to court to fight for her ‘baby’s’ custody. It was horrible.”

George stared at me for a few long seconds, then shook his head at the same time he pulled into the parking lot where we would be having our gender ultrasound.

My sister was meeting us there, and I could see her bouncing on the balls of her feet the moment we pulled into a spot next to her.

“Your sister is excited,” George snorted.

That was more than obvious.

I looked at her and grinned. “She is. She’s really excited to be an aunt to little Furious George Junior.”

I’d been calling the baby Junior. Diamond had been calling the baby ‘Furious George Junior.’

I was fairly positive it was a boy, but secretly George was hoping for a little girl.

A little girl that could wrap him around her little finger.

I started to push open the door, but my sister caught it before me and shrieked, “I’m so excited!”

I slid out of the truck and hugged her.

“Me, too,” I agreed. “You ready?”

George offered us both an arm, and we walked into the office like that, side by side.

“Do you think they’ll think we’re into polygamy?” Diamond whispered.

George dropped her arm, causing her to snort.

“I’d really rather not have the paparazzi even getting wind of that,” he told her honestly. “They’re already all up in our business.”

They were.

Why?

That was George’s fault.

He’d won some big huge trophy at the Home Run Derby the week before, and now everybody in America couldn’t get enough of our life.

Why?

Because he’d kissed me on national television, and then had kissed my belly.

At the time I’d thought it sweet.

Now, not so much.

Not because I was embarrassed by George, but because the damn cameras were constantly taking our pictures.

For instance, the dude in the pickup that was half hanging out of his truck taking pictures of us with a camera lens the length of my forearm.