The Sweetest Game (18 page)

Following the signs that pointed to baggage claim, I realized that I’d walked in a circle. Somewhere along the line, I wasn’t translating the arrow directions correctly. Passing by the women’s bathroom one more time, I decided I couldn’t hold it and stepped inside. My stomach ached and fought against the urge to puke.

I must be hungry.

I splashed some cold water on my face before patting it dry with a paper towel. Stepping into the oncoming foot traffic, I decided to follow the herd of other travelers, convinced they would lead me straight to my destination. And they did.

When I was halfway down the escalator, I saw my husband standing at the bottom with a dimpled smile on his face, holding a sign that read:

I covered my face with my hands and burst into tears. My mind flashed back to Jack in the airport when we first dated, holding the sign that read:

I bolted from the escalator and straight into his waiting arms. His body was warm and comforting as he held me close.

“It wasn’t supposed to make you cry.” He kissed my head and patted my hair.

“The sign, Jack. The sign,” I blubbered into his T-shirt. “And I’ve really missed you.”

Holy hell, I need to stop crying all the time lately. Something is seriously wrong with me. I feel so out of control and unbalanced.

Jack’s thumb reached across my cheek and wiped my tears away. He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine, and my body melted into his. “I’ve missed you too. Let’s get your bag and get out of here.”

I nodded as he linked his fingers with mine. “How’s your hand feeling?”

“Good. Real good.” While we waited at the baggage claim carousel, he flexed and stretched his left hand before reaching for my small suitcase. “This it?” he asked as he pulled it off the spinning track.

“Yeah, just that.”

I don’t know why I checked it when it was small enough to carry on board. Occupational habit, maybe. Whenever I traveled for work, I always checked all my equipment and bags, so this routine was second nature to me.

“I’m getting stronger, you know,” he said, his eyebrows raised.

I flashed him a smile and squeezed his hand. “I knew you would.”

“And I gained another mile per hour on my fast-ball yesterday.” He grinned from ear to ear and my body heated with pride.

“Jack, that’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Kitten.” His face beamed with pleasure, the light brown rings closest to his pupils nearly glowing.

By the time we arrived at his hotel, my stomach betrayed me. I could barely stand up straight, it hurt so badly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I hadn’t seen Jack in almost two weeks and now that we were together, I was sick?

“I’m sorry, Jack. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I looked at him apologetically as we waited for the elevator.

“Don’t be sorry, just get better. Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

I shook my head, the very idea of food making me want to hurl. “No. No food.”

“I’ll order—” he started to respond before I cut him off.

“No! I don’t want anything!” I fought to keep the nothing I’d eaten inside my body as the elevator rocked to a stop. I wrapped my arm across my tummy and attempted to walk.

“I got you,” Jack said before scooping me into his arms and carrying me down the long hallway. The last time he held me like this was after I’d gotten mugged in college. Some guy had come out of nowhere and stolen my camera and beat the crap out of me. When Jack finally found me, he picked me up and walked all the way to my apartment without stopping to catch his breath or slow his pace. It was the most romantic thing ever.

He was doing the same thing now. I leaned my body into his, listening to the sound of his heart beating against his muscled chest. It seemed like we walked for hours before we arrived at his hotel room door.

“I have to put you down,” he warned before placing my feet gently on the ground. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah,” I responded, my body doubled over in pain.

He swiped his keycard, the light turned green, and the lock made a clicking sound. Jack turned the handle and held the door open with his foot as I trudged inside. I rounded the corner and fell on top of his bed, pulling my knees to my chest.

“Kitten, what happened?” he asked as he sat down next to me on the bed. He propped pillows up behind him before pulling my head on top of his legs. His fingers ran through my hair and I could feel the intensity of his stare on me.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I just don’t feel good all of a sudden.”

“I have to leave in two hours for the field, but I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine after I nap or something. Don’t worry about me.”

He let out a loud huff. “Don’t worry about you? Okay, Kitten. Sure thing. Never gonna fucking happen.”

“I just meant that I’ll be fine. I probably just need sleep and food.” I hesitated. “At some point.”

He stroked my hair, then stood up to walk over to the windows and pulled the curtains closed.

A moment later, he pressed a kiss to my cheek. Then he was gone.

My eyes opened in the darkened room, and when I turned my head to look for the alarm clock, my neck stiffened under the weight of my twisted sleeping position. How long had I been asleep?

“Jack?”

I moved my arm and the sound of paper crinkling drew my attention toward a piece of paper lying on the bedspread. It was a note from Jack.

Didn’t want to wake you. I hope you feel better. Your tickets are at will-call, but please don’t come if you don’t feel good. I mean it, Kitten. If you feel like shit, stay here! I’ll be back before you know it.

Determined to attend his game, I pushed myself to my feet. My head spun and I pressed my hand against the wall for balance. I needed water, and I knew Jack’s mini fridge would be filled with it.

Opening a bottle, I took a sip before immediately bolting to the bathroom. The water I’d just swallowed came surging back up with a vengeance. Okay, I was definitely sick. There was no way I could go to the game like this; I’d never make it through a single inning.

Reaching for my cell phone, I typed out a message to Jack, letting him know I wouldn’t be at the game. He wouldn’t get to read it until after, but at least he’d know not to look for me and would come straight back to the hotel. Hopefully by then I’d be feeling better.

I set my phone on the bed beside me just as it rang. Melissa’s singsong ringtone filled the room and I pressed
OKAY
to answer the call.

“Hey, girly,” I whined into the phone line.

“Holy shit, you sound like death. Where are you?” Her chipper tone was almost too much for me to take in my current state.

“I’m in Seattle with Jack. Where are you?”

“Uh,” she stuttered. “I’m at home. Where else would I be?”

I reached for a pillow and tucked it in front of my hips and tummy. Leaning my body against the coolness of the pillowcase helped settle my upset belly. “I don’t know. So, what’s up?”

“Why do you sound so bad? Are you sick?”

“I think so. My stomach is killing me and I threw up right before you called.”

“Pregnant,” she stated in her typical teasing tone, but something in that one word caused my breath to hitch.

When the hell was the last time I had my period? Was it over a month ago? I can’t remember.

“Cass?” Melissa’s voice rang in my ear.

“Sorry, I’m here. Shit, Meli, you might be right.”

“I was totally joking.”

Intrigued by the idea, I sat up and leaned back against the plush headboard. “I know you were, but I’ve been really tired lately. Not to mention, stupid emotional. Like, I cry at everything!” I complained.

“Everything?” she droned, mocking my confession.

“Everything!” I said forcefully. “Commercials. A fucking tissue commercial wrecked me the other day. I had to go to bed to stop thinking about it.”

Melissa laughed hysterically on the other end of the line. I wanted to reach through the phone and smack her. “Oh, holy shit. You totally are pregnant.”

“Meli, I have to go. I’ll call you back.” I hung up before she could respond and forced myself out of bed.

I needed to find a drugstore of some sort and buy some home pregnancy tests. Unless the hotel sold them, which I highly doubted. And the last thing I wanted was to run into a player’s wife or girlfriend while I was buying something like that.

Like an idiot, I talked to my stomach, telling it to settle down enough to let me find a store. And then I promised it that if it let me not be sick until I got back to the hotel room, I’d let it make me sick all night if it wanted. I really needed to be able to find a store, buy some tests, and not puke while doing it.

Luck was definitely on my side because there was a drugstore right across the street from the hotel. I’d never purchased a pregnancy test before, so was surprised to find an entire aisle filled with shelves of them. I decided right then and there that there was definitely such a thing as too many options. There were plus signs, pink or blue, one line or two, yes or no, results before your first missed period or after, and more. My head spun and I had no idea which one was the best to buy. So I purchased four.

I raced back to the hotel, my ridiculous amount of pregnancy tests stuffed into a paper bag. Closing the door behind me, I removed the first box. I read the directions twice before attempting to follow them. The first time, instead of peeing on the damn stick, I peed all over my fingers. I wondered what kind of woman could control the direction of her pee the way the directions seemed to expect we could.

After washing my hands, I hurried into the living area and found my bottle of water. I chugged the whole thing to give myself plenty of ammunition before scooting back into the bathroom.

“Let’s try this again,” I said out loud, giving myself a pep talk.

Miraculously peeing on the proper part of the stick instead of my hands, I set the test on top of the sink counter and poured the rest of the tests out of the bag. They all informed me that they weren’t one hundred percent accurate, so I should take more than one before going to a doctor for final confirmation.

Cell phone in hand, I stared at it, willing the minutes to go by faster. Unable to wait any longer, I wandered back into the bathroom and glanced down at the test, which was changing as I watched. The first window darkened and two lines appeared. It stated on the test that one line meant you were not pregnant and two lines meant you were. But it said nothing about a faint line. What did a barely there second line mean?

I scanned the directions and focused on the Frequently Asked Questions. It stated that the appearance of a second line meant that you were pregnant, no matter how faint or dark the line.

Pregnant.

Not willing to trust the one test, I took two more. All three yielded the same results:

PREGNANT.

Oh my gosh. I couldn’t wait to tell Jack. He’d wanted to knock me up since the night he proposed. I fought the urge to call Melissa back and tell her, dying to share my news with my best friend. But Jack deserved to be the first person to know.