“What are we going to do?” My voice is a raw whisper in the silence.
The room is dark. Every inch of me feels battered and heavy with fatigue. But I’m in Gray’s arms, and he’s idly running his long fingers through my hair, making it a struggle to keep my eyes open. Beneath my cheek, his chest rises on a breath and his heartbeat increases.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I guess that’s up to you.”
I stiffen and lift my head to look at him. “Why me?”
Gray’s blue eyes are solemn. “It’s your body. Your choice. Isn’t it?”
He says it so matter-of-factly, so sincerely, that I kiss his chest before answering. “I don’t want to be the only one with any say. Your opinion matters.”
The corner of Gray’s mouth curls as he traces a line down my cheek. “Okay. But, Mac, I feel like I’m walking through a minefield here.”
“Coward,” I tease, giving his side a nudge.
“Yep,” he says, unapologetic. His grin sparks then fades. “Honey, just tell me how you feel, and I’ll listen.”
Sighing, I rest my chin on his chest and wrap an arm around his waist as if holding onto his body can anchor me and stop the fluttery feelings of panic that keep coming and going. “I don’t know. We’re so young. We have barely begun to live our lives. The idea of having a baby…” I press my lips against his firm skin. “It just seems like we’re setting ourselves up for disaster.”
Gray is silent for a second then his big hand engulfs the back of my head. His touch is warm, secure. “Okay, true. But we’re also way ahead of most people our age. Barring unforeseen calamities—and I really want to knock on wood—I’m going to be making a ridiculous amount of money in less than a year. And even if something did happen, we both have excellent educations and our massively impressive brains…” I grin at him, and he wags his brows. “So we’re not going to be hurting for money. Not to mention that your parents are loaded—”
“Gray!”
He holds up a hand, but a smile lingers in his eyes. “I’m just saying that we wouldn’t be suffering for funds.”
“Fine.” I rest my head on him again. “You’re right. But a baby? I don’t know.” I pause and peer up at him. “You’re not freaking out. Why are you not freaking out?”
He sputters a laugh, and suddenly I’m on my back and Gray’s big body hovers over me. “You thought I’d go mental, didn’t you?”
“Well, I…” Shit, I almost went mental, why wouldn’t he?
But Gray shakes his head slowly, a smile creeping over his face. “Mac, you’re the love of my life. I’m all in, come what may. This? Yeah, it’s a shock, nothing I expected. But this is you and me we’re talking about. Please don’t hold what I did today against me. I can adapt to a change in play.”
“I know,” I tell him. “And I won’t.”
He nods as though relieved then his lips brush mine. “Maybe I should be panicking. But I’m not. If you want this baby, then we’ll learn as we go. If you don’t—” He kisses me again. “Then I’ll hold your hand every step of the way.”
Twenty-Seven
Gray
“So,” I say to Drew. We’re sitting at the bar, ginger ales in hand—Coach has set down a no-beers-from-this-point-on rule—and Drew’s trying to be supportive. Good man.
“So,” Drew says back then takes a drink.
“Ivy’s pregnant.”
It’s almost worth my current anxiety to watch him choke and spew ginger ale all over the bar. The bartender gives him an annoyed look then walks over to wipe up the splatter with a rag.
“Baby steps, hon,” she mutters before leaving us.
I laugh into my glass.
Drew glares, but then his expression grows serious. “Shit, Gray-Gray. You’re not joking, are you?”
“Nope.” I take another drink and concentrate on the feel of cold bubbles sliding down my throat.