Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (21 page)

“
S
he’s fully dilated
,” the doctor pops his balding head up from between my knees. I groan as ripples of agony rush through me.

I manage to unsqueeze my eyes for a second and look up to my mother’s calm, sweet face. “I can’t be. I can’t have the baby so fast. We took a class, they said the labor would last all day. Maybe two days,” I plead my case.

Mom pats my hand softly. I try to focus on her fingers wrapped around my palm instead of the convulsive muscle spasms attacking my belly right now.

“Honey, this is out of your hands. Babies are born how and when they’re ready. This is in God’s hands now, you gotta trust that this is right,” she tries to soothe me. My mother swipes her free hand over my sweaty brow, pushing back my matted, soaked hair.

When I woke up this morning, I knew I felt off. Heavier than usual, and that’s saying something. I had no idea that I’d be giving birth today though. I’ve only been in full labor for less than two hours, but it’s felt like a lifetime. Each nauseating surge of pain has been rolling over me like ocean waves in a thunderstorm. I feel like a small sailboat, desperately trying to keep on course as water crashes over me, threatening to crush me with its force.

“I can’t do it! I’m scared,” tears stream down my face. I never imagined giving birth without Cameron. I don’t know why. I knew it was a possibility with him going pro, but in my heart, I always saw us together for this.

“Ms. Taylor, I’m gonna count to ten and then I need you to push for ten seconds ok? I’ll let you know when you can stop pushing, just listen to me,” the doctor I never really got to know instructs me firmly. I mean, I’m sure Dr. Mercer is a good guy and a great doctor, I’m not saying he isn’t. He’s just not the same as my old doc.

I miss her. I miss the familiarity we had. In a new city, everyone is a stranger. That’s why I need Cameron here. I need more than just my mother. I need my future husband. The father of my baby.

“One, two, three,” Dr. Mercer calls out.

“Mom, did you call his coach?” I sob, already knowing the answer.

“I did,” she answers me with tight lips. “Chelsea Taylor, you’re gonna have this baby and I’m right here to see you through it, do you hear me? You’ve always been my tough little cookie, and you can do this,” she looks down at my face with a flicker of determination in her dark eyes.

“Seven, eight, nine, ten! Push!” The doctor yells.

An overwhelming urge to bear down centers inside me, I hold my breath, lean forward, scrunch my face and give all I have. I push like it’s the only thing my body is capable of doing right now. As if my organs, my brain, my senses are all shut down just so I can.

“Ok! Good. That was great actually. A few more like that and you’ll be holding your baby in your arms, Mama!” Dr. Mercer smiles up at me.

Tears mix with sweat on my face and drip down to my gown. Nurses scurry around us in the hospital delivery room, checking charts and the print out of the baby’s heart rate. They’re a constant flurry of motion, like a hummingbird’s wings, but I can’t focus on them.

“That’s my girl! I’m proud of you, Chelsea. You’re doing it.” My mother smiles down at me.

“We’re going to do that again, Ms. Taylor. I’m going to count to ten and then you’ll push until I say stop, got it?”

I grit my teeth and nod sharply, trying so hard to focus on anything but this pain.

The door to the room crashes open and my head whips to the side to see what the cause of the commotion is.

“Chelsea! I’m here!” Cameron slides into the room like he’s struggling to keep his balance on skates. I look down and see he’s still got his cleats on his feet. It goes well with the turquoise blue Miami uniform he’s still wearing. Hell, he’s even got his shoulder pads still on. I’d laugh if I wasn’t sobbing so hard.

“Sir! You can’t come in here like that!” One of the nurses descends down on him like a hawk zeroing in on a field mouse.

“That’s my fiancé, please let him stay!” I beg her, desperate for Cameron to be by my side.

She looks to Dr. Mercer and he gives her a curt nod. Relief floods through me as she backs off and Cameron joins me by the side of the bed.

“One, two, three, four,” the doctor counts.

“You made it,” I smile up at my man.

“Of course I did,” he locks his deep blue eyes on me, “I love you, Chelsea.”

“Nine, ten. Push!” Dr. Mercer barks at me.

I crunch forward and squeeze every muscle I physically can to its limit. I feel Cameron’s hand on my shoulder and it gives me the strength I need to slice through the hellish burning, and keep bearing down.

“Ok, stop. Good!” The doctor holds up his hand at me. Your baby is crowning. One more push and the head will be out. You’ve got two more max and you’ll be holding your child,” he smiles up at me broadly.

I slump back against my damp pillow, exhaustion surging my senses. I’m excited to meet my baby. In a way, two more pushes sounds so fast, yet feels like I have so far to go still.

“You’ve got this, Chelsea,” Cameron kisses the back of my hand. Mom pushes my hair back from my face and holds my other hand. My heart is bursting with love for them.

“Ok,” I take a deep breath.

“You ready?” Doctor Mercer calls out. It’s not so much a question as an order.

“Yes.”

“One, two, three,” he begins again.

I look up at Cameron and he smiles at me. His eyes shine with tears. “I love you so much, Chelsea.”

“Five, six, seven,” the doctor calls out.

I need to muster my strength. My courage. My will. I need to dig deep as Cameron would say.

“Ten. Push!”

I grunt and lift my shoulders as I lean toward my swollen belly. With my eyes pressed shut, I focus all I have left on pushing with all of my might. I feel like I’ve completely succumb to my animal instincts as I grunt and moan. Finally, the pressure between my legs eases up a little and tiny cries fill the room. I can’t stop pushing. I just clench my jaw and keep going, listening to my body instead of my doctor.

The cries grow louder and fiercer as Dr. Mercer lifts my baby up and snips the umbilical cord attaching us.

“It’s a girl,” he announces.

Gently, the doctor places her on my chest and I look down at her in awe. My baby. My girl. My newborn daughter cries up at me and I join her, sobbing with joy.

“I’m so proud of you, look at her! You did it, Chelsea,” Cameron hunches down over us and kisses my tear-stained cheek as he looks at his child.

“She’s beautiful,” my mother whispers.

I look down at my little miracle. A child I was never supposed to be able to have and my heart fills with a love I never thought I’d know. I smile at Cameron. I have no words, there aren’t any that can explain this love, this joy, this amazing moment.

I know in my heart that this is the beginning for us. A new journey as a family, with Cameron in the professional league and with me and my little girl in Florida.

It feels like a dream come true.

“What name will you give her?” Mom asks.

I look at Cameron and he looks back at me. We discussed many names, from ones that honor family members to popular actresses. However, we kept coming back to one. The woman who kept Cameron company on so many lonely nights as a child.

“Cassiopeia,” we answer together.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” my mother smiles approvingly.

I kiss my little baby on her forehead and lean into Cameron’s embrace as he wraps his arms around us.

Cassiopeia, the constellation that Cameron talked to. The w-shaped cluster of stars that he showed me in his treehouse on the night he bared his soul to me. She will be brighter than Sirius and more important than the North Star in our night sky. She will be the one true light that guides my heart home.

T
hey say
it takes a village to raise a child. Well, I don’t know about that. However, I can tell you with certainty that it takes a kickass team of people to help you get a book together. I’d like to thank some of you now, if I forgot anyone I sincerely apologize.

First, I’d like to thank the beautiful heroine of my own personal love story, Ann. Without you, I’d be a lone boat, tossed on the ocean’s rough seas. Like Chelsea in this book, you are my North Star, guiding me down the path I only ever dreamed existed. Thank you. For so much more than your help with reading and constant re-reading. Beyond that though, thank you for making my life complete.

In the book world, thank you so much to my awesome beta readers: Joanne Thompson and Monica Horne. You both helped me add depth to this book and these characters that I never would have achieved on my own. I am grateful for your insights, ideas, and yes…even your corrections.

Thank you to Kim of Kover to Kover Editing Services. I appreciate how you took my work and made it brighter.

Finally, to my fellow author, Alana Albertson. Thank you! For welcoming me into this Indie community and showing me the ropes before anyone really knew my name. I will be forever grateful to you for your friendship and your help.

“
H
ey-yah
!”

“Shake it like a polaroid picture!” we cheer in unison. Surrounded by a circle of my closest friends, breaking it down in gowns that are preparing us for future bridesmaid duty. I can’t believe how much fun I’m having. I look over at Becky and she’s shaking her little money maker in wild abandon. She’s in her glory right now. After months of us trying to derail her visions for our prom night theme, it finally came together. And, I’ve got to admit, it looks spectacular.

When she first started pushing for a “Fairy-tale” theme at the council meetings, I rolled my eyes harder than anyone else. In all fairness though, her first pitch really wasn’t the best. Thankfully, we did manage to evolve her Disney princess idea from one that gave me a horrible flashback of my childhood fear of Mickey Mouse into the stunning setting we are dancing in now. The white, silver and teal blue balloons are tied in clusters and hung from the ceiling to look like magical clouds. At least they do under this low light. And the miles of silky fabric hung around the room transformed the Colorado Golf Club into a dreamlike stage for the class of 2004 to dance the night away in.

It feels like everything came together tonight so perfectly, it might as well be a fairytale. Just a week ago, I was crying in my doctor’s office over an ear infection that had me so dizzy I was convinced I’d never make it to the prom tonight, let alone dance at it. I sobbed like a four-year-old lost in a department store when Dr. Klebes confirmed that I would need a day off from school and a round of antibiotics to get it under control.

“But, but, my prom! My dress! I can’t be sick. I can’t miss it!”
I’m not proud to say I cried real tears. He told me that I’d be fine by tonight, if I just got plenty of rest, water and took the pills. Turns out, he knew what he was talking about and my mini-meltdown was for nothing.

I guess all those degrees on his wall meant something after all.

As OutKast fades out, my girls and I all stand around and stare blankly at each other as we wait for the next song to tell us what to do. Will it be another fast one? Should we stay in our little scrum of ruffles and sequins? Or is the tempo change gonna send us searching for the guys we showed up with?

Beauty queen of only eighteen

She had some trouble with herself

We quickly stampede off the floor in different directions as Adam Levine begins to serenade us. It doesn’t take long to spot Mack, he’s exactly where I left him three songs ago. Luckily for me, he looks just as sexy as he did three songs ago too. I navigate through the obstacle course of tables and chairs until I reach the back wall he’s leaning against. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was hiding.

Unfortunately, for him, he’s not hard to spot. Hovering around six feet tall, with chiseled shoulders that even his tux jacket can’t hide, he can’t exactly covertly disappear behind a plant in the corner or something. Mack has a face that makes every girl in the room melt and a body that they all wish they could lay beside. It used to make me jealous, all the attention he gets, but he’s never cared about anyone but me. It’s been that way since we were kids and it’ll be that way until we’re old. Besides, everyone knows that Mack’s taken. They can take their chances with Cameron Armstrong instead.

As the quarterback of our high school football team, Cameron’s never had a problem getting attention from the girls. With his sandy brown hair and deep blue eyes, the fact that he’s the second best looking guy in the school doesn’t hurt either. I’d give him a second look, if I wasn’t already with the best looking guy. And if he wasn’t a non-committal manwhore.

Mack’s eyes light up when he sees me, like I just woke him from a dream. I love when he looks at me like that. If there were other girls in the room, you wouldn’t know it by the way he smiles at me. It’s like I’m the only woman in the world, let alone in the dance hall.

“C’mon. It’s your turn to dance with me,” I tug on both of his hands and try to pull him off the wall. “Just dance one slow song with me and then I won’t bug you anymore.” I plead.

“Nah, I’m gonna sit this one out.” He doesn’t budge an inch. I could throw every ounce of strength I have into trying to move him, but it wouldn’t matter. He’s built like a stack of bricks. Hard, cut, strong bricks that have made every girl jealous of me since we started going out.

“Just one song.” I persist, still pulling feebly on his hands. He won’t give in. I know he won’t. “Why did you ask me to come to the prom with you if you weren’t gonna dance?” I stick out my bottom lip in a pouty face that I hope will sway him. “I spent weeks picking out this dress, I’m never gonna look this good again. I don’t want to waste the night standing by the wall.”

He doesn’t need to know that by weeks I mean months. As in, I’ve been planning what to wear to the prom since school started this year. I smooth my hands down over my royal purple gown. After looking at every neon colored dress ever invented, I turned down the flash for understated elegance. I truly feel like a princess with the intricately beaded halter and the floor length chiffon skirt. All that’s missing is my glass slippers.

That and my prince charming.

Mack Forrester is many things. Usually words like “hot” and “rebel” are used to describe him. But he isn’t a prince, and the only thing he’s good at charming is my clothes off.

And she will be loved …

“The song is almost over. Just dance with me for a minute. Just till the end of the song.” I try again. Mack just smiles at me and tilts his head to the side.

“You do look gorgeous,” his voice rumbles. “But, I didn’t come here to dance. I brought you because I knew it was important to you.” He pushes himself off the wall and stands up straight, lifting my hand up over my head and twirls me in a circle. I squint my eyes and the room swirls around me in a kaleidoscope of color. My dress billows out, exposing my legs to the air, and then cocoons back around me. I feel like the tiny ballerina I used to watch spin around in my mother’s music box.

No one would dance with her either.

Mack yanks me tight against his chest and fixes me to the floor with his blue eyes. “Besides, there’s a lot more to do on prom night than just this,” he nods his head toward the swaying couples behind me. “I
do
plan to dance with you,” he smirks his cocky little half smile and my heart flutters. I’m sure he can feel it thudding in my chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll spin you all around too, but for
my
dance that pretty little dress of yours has got to go.”

I don’t mean to press my breasts into him. It’s not like I want to encourage him. I just can’t help it. Mack knows how to mesmerize me with only a look. The song changes to another slow one and I manage to snap out of my lust trance.

“Fine, if you’re not going to dance with me then I’ll just find someone else who will.” I look into his eyes and fight my instinct to kiss his hovering mouth.

“Who? Why are we wasting time here? Let’s just get out of here, Lauren.” His voice is thick with desire. I can almost feel myself being hypnotized by it. But I refuse to give in that easy.

Somehow I find the strength to step away from his warm body and scan the room. My eyes stop on Joel Brickman. Not ideal by a long stretch, but I know my former chemistry partner won’t turn down a dance. I smirk at Mack and walk away from him, making sure I add a little Shakira to my hips as I make my way across the floor. I know Mack’s watching my every move, so I might as well put on a good show.

I stride up to Joel and grab his arm. “Come on, let’s dance.”

It isn’t a question. But, it doesn’t seem to matter. He’s at my heels like the love-struck puppy dog he is.

We’re quickly absorbed on the ballroom floor by the other couples twisting around in slow circles. I glance at Joel and am rewarded with the familiar smile I’ve seen for the past eight months in every science class. His look says I’ve just made this guy’s night. Hell, I probably just made his year. I check over his shoulder to see if Mack is watching and feel satisfied when my boyfriend’s smug smile begins to twist into something else. Jealousy.

Some people want diamond rings

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, yeah

Joel glides me around the floor and my view of Mack is obstructed by other slow-dancing couples. I finally stop twisting my head around like an owl and just focus on the guy I’m dancing with. His large brown eyes are searching my face. Desperate to find significance in our meaningless dance. I’ve sat next to him all year, yet I’ve never really looked at him before. He’s actually not a bad looking guy. His sandy hair sweeps across his forehead and frames his big eyes. The eyes that won’t stop staring at me.

Staring into me.

I need to make him stop.

“I, uh, wanted to say thanks for being my lab partner all year. It was great working with you.” I interrupt his thoughts in an attempt to drag him back into reality. I can’t look into those eyes any longer. Instead I focus on my hand against his shoulder. My almond skin against his snow white jacket is striking.

“I can honestly say that it was my pleasure, Lauren. Did you get into nursing?” He looks so hopeful, like my future genuinely matters to him.

“I did,” I beam. I can’t help it, I’m pretty proud of myself. “I got a full scholarship at the University of Colorado, can you believe it?”

“Of course.”

I suddenly realize that I have zero idea of what Joel’s plans are after graduation. I’ve talked to him almost every day this school year, but now that I think about it, I can’t recall any of the details he’s told me about his life. At all. A flash of guilt washes over me.

“Are you going to university?” I ask shyly. I can’t believe how self-centered I’ve been. My mind is struggling to come up with one thing I know about this guy other than the fact that he’s good at science and crushing on me hard. I’m coming up blank.

If he’s offended, it doesn’t show. “I did. I’ll be at Colorado U too. I got into the engineering program.”

“Oh, congrats.” I feel like a jerk for not knowing that. But not enough of a jerk to stop searching over his shoulder for my boyfriend. When I’ve rotated back around enough that Mack’s back in clear view, I can see he doesn’t look impressed.

Good. Serves him right for refusing to dance with me
.
I smile to myself.

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, yeah.

I see Mack pushing his way through the tables and chairs until he’s no longer in view. The song is almost over and this time when I spot Mack he’s at the edge of the dance floor. The last note is being sung as he springs toward me like a tiger from the bushes.

“Thanks for the dance, Joel.” I smile and step back. I thud right into the human pillar that is my boyfriend. I feel his arms wrap around my body as he pulls me against him possessively.

“All right, you’ve made your point. Let’s get out of here.” he hisses in my ear.

Joel looks at me, then over my shoulder, smiling politely. “Thank you for the dance, Lauren. I’ll see you on campus next year.” He gives my hand a quick squeeze before dropping it back to my side. Before I even have a chance to respond, I’m being guided toward the exit with a sense of urgency.

I don’t bother looking back over my shoulder as we leave. There’s no point. My future is with Mack.

Scratch that.

My future
is
Mack. And nostalgia has no place in his plans.