“Maybe it won’t last very long. I’ll ask the doctor next week.”
Next week. It sounded like the distant future. By then, the Cup would be won or lost. Although the world would keep turning on its axis either way. “Tell me about this doctor visit. Will they be able to tell us the baby’s sex?”
“Oh, I’m not going to ask.”
“What?” he stopped walking, and she turned to him with an eyebrow raised. “Seriously?”
“Sure. In the olden days, nobody knew. They survived. I don’t want to know until the baby is here and healthy.”
He snorted. “People survived in the olden days, huh? Unless they got the plague or tuberculosis. Embrace the progress, baby. I want to know if I have to repaint the nursery.”
“Hmm,” Lauren mused, squeezing his hand in hers. “That’s a good point. I suppose we’d want to repaint before the baby comes.”
“Right? Paint fumes would be bad for the baby. Very bad.” He was probably overselling it, but he was desperate to know if he’d have a daughter or a son. Either one would be grand, but every new kernel of news was exciting to him.
“Okay,” she said, and his heart leapt. “Let’s paint the nursery white. That way it won’t matter.”
Beacon threw back his head and laughed. “You kill me.”
“Shh!” Lauren said suddenly, squeezing his hand, and stopping on the sidewalk. “Look!” she whispered.
“At what?” he asked, sotto voce.
She pointed.
Ahead of them, the sidewalk passed the curved facade of an office building, with a nearly deserted plaza outside it. A couple had paused there under a street light, the man’s hands on the woman’s waist. As they watched, he leaned forward to give her a lingering kiss.
Lauren made an excited little squeak beside him. “That’s Nate and Rebecca!”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed. “But honey—I knew they were a thing.”
Her glance cut toward him. “What? How? You didn’t tell me!”
“You’re the one who knows Nate best,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “I just assumed you knew. But remember that night I, uh, let myself into your hotel room in Bal Harbour?”
She gave him a smile. “How could I forget?”
“The next morning when I snuck out of your room and let myself into mine, he was sneaking out of Rebecca’s.”
“No way!” Lauren giggled. “Finally!”
“Finally,” he agreed, but only because he could see the hotel in the distance. “Is it safe to keep walking now?”
Lauren squinted toward Nate and Rebecca, who were now walking toward the hotel, hand in hand. “Looks like it.”
“Good. Because I’m going to take you up to my room now, and nobody is sneaking out afterward.”
She wrapped an arm around his back. “Sounds perfect.”
And it was.
THIRTY-THREE
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
There was a delay boarding the team jet in St. Louis.
The Bruisers were in the middle of a six-day road trip, so the players weren’t feeling bent out of shape by the holdup. They weren’t racing home to their girlfriends or families. Tonight would mean another hotel bed and another team dinner.
Beacon was feeding quarters into a claw machine, trying to win a stuffy for Elsa. “Trevi—it’s going to work this time. Are you ready?”
“Sure, man,” he chuckled, holding up Beacon’s Katt Phone. “Go.”
The video was for Elsa’s benefit. Because he’d finally figured out how to position the claw properly before lowering its metallic jaws toward the toys. She’d freak if this worked.
He fed in the quarters and began the work of angling the jaw into the corner where the toys were piled the highest.
“It’s a tough angle,” Trevi narrated for the video’s benefit. “But he’s a skilled competitor . . .”
“And . . . now,” he said to himself, dropping the claw.
“Go, baby!” Trevi enthused. “YEAHHH!” the kid whooped as the claws closed around something. “Will it be the pink pig? Or that blue thing . . .”
The mechanical arm jolted, lifting not one but two toys in its steel teeth. Unbelievable.
“Looking good as he heads into the dismount,” Trevi said. “This could be a world record . . .”
Unbelievably, both the pig and a little blue bulldog dropped into the corner where the chute was. Mike yanked them out and laughed.
“It’s a podium finish,” Trevi said, pointing the camera in his face. “And . . . the phone is ringing. Whoa. Your very pregnant wife is calling.” The kid tapped the screen to stop the video and handed it to Mike.
The screen read Lauren. He answered quickly. “Hey! Everything okay? How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling like my water broke.”
“No! Really? Are you sure?” She wasn’t due for another ten days.
“Oh, I’m sure. Luckily I didn’t flood my office. It happened when I . . .” She laughed.
“What?”
“I’d just sat down on the toilet. Then whoosh! Weirdest thing ever.”
“Wow.” He smiled into the phone even as the reality of the situation set in. “Okay, you need to get to the hospital.”
“I know. I called you first. Now I’m calling a car.”
He heard a voice in the background.
“Actually, Nate is calling me a car. He’s panicking. Hang on.” Mike heard her speak sharply to Nate. “No! Do not call 911. That’s ridiculous. This isn’t an emergency!”
“Want me to handle it?” He had two car companies on speed dial for this very purpose. And the dog-eared pregnancy book on their bedside table at home had warned that contractions would kick in pretty hard after her water broke.
“I’ve got it. Seriously. Just figure out when you can get on a plane for home.”
“I’ll do my best, baby! Hang in there. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” There was a click and she was gone.
He stood there a moment longer, phone in hand, just trying to catch up with the sudden U-turn his day had just made. Then he spun into action. “Becca!”
She came running. “What is it?”
“Lauren went into labor. I need to get home.”
Becca gave an excited little shriek, and pulled a tablet out of her bag. “I’m on it. Give me five minutes to find you a flight.”
“What’s this I hear?” Silas asked, walking up and giving Mike’s shoulder a squeeze. “Is this the call I think it is?”
“You’re playing tomorrow night in Toronto. You ready?”
“Of course. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll go tell Coach.” Silas jogged off, a smile on his face. The team would call up a third goalie from Hartford to fly to Ontario as Silas’s backup. The team would survive without him for a game. He had more important business to attend to.
Mike turned around to find his carry-on. He’d forgotten about the two stuffed toys clutched in his fist. But now he marveled at them. The pig was pink and silly, the bulldog a little more serious, with big eyes.
He knew a good omen when he saw one.
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