Page 121 of Wicked Love

“Why you sad, Poppy?” Becca asks.

“I’m crying because I’m so happy,” I say.

She still reaches over to hug me, rubbing my back the way we do when she’s upset.

“You’re the sweetest, Becca,” I say when I pull back.

She grins bigger when she sees me smiling, reassured that I’m okay.

Bowie is staring at us, and I swear, there are hearts in his eyes. I love the way he looks at me now. “You’re beautiful,” he says.

“You’re thebest,” Becca adds.

“You guys are the best,” I cry.

When we get home, we show the sonogram pictures to Paulina and the McGregors.

And then Bowie takes me to bed and makes sure I fall asleep feeling completely loved and satiated.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

GHOSTS ON THE FIELD

BOWIE

The locker room always smells the same—sweat and the faint tang of antiseptic from the trainers’ area. I’m back in the fray of football season, taping my wrists, pulling on gear, running through plays in my head. The Mustangs are off to a great start this season. The defense is clicking, and the coaches are pleased. By all accounts, I should be riding high on the excitement of the turnaround this season.

And I am. But it’s different now.Every time I say goodbye to Poppy and Becca, I feel a tug in my chest. Becca’s happier than ever, having Poppy with her when I can’t be, but I miss them so much. When I’m suiting up before a game, I think about how Becca might be playing with her new dinosaur figurines or playing in the yard with Poppy. Staying in yet another hotel room with cookie-cutter art on the walls is a glaring contrast to Poppy’s laughter ringing from the kitchen, or the sound of Becca’s voice.

It’s a new kind of homesickness, one I haven’t experienced to this level. I’ve always been a bit detached, my heart with Becca, but now, no matter how much I try to focus on the next opponent, part of me is back home.

We do what we can to stay connected. After I’ve done all the interviews and showered up, I find a quiet corner and FaceTime Poppy. She picks up and there’s Becca’s face, too close to the camera at first, so all I see is a swirl of her hair. Then she adjusts the angle and I get the full picture. Poppy’s leaning against a pillow, her baby bump more pronounced now, and there’s a look in her eyes that says she misses me too.

“Great game,” she says, smiling wide.

“It was a tough matchup, but we did it.”

Becca pokes her head back in view, waving a tiny T-Rex. “This is Bobo.”

“Bobo, huh? Good choice. You taking good care of him?”

Becca nods solemnly. “He thinks broccoli is yucky.”

Poppy laughs. “He takes after Becca that way.”

Becca makes a blech sound and I laugh. “Broccoli’s not that bad. You should keep trying it.” I stare at them for a second. It’s small moments like these that I crave. I get snapshots when I’m gone and it just doesn’t feel like enough. “I miss you guys,” I say.

“We miss you,” Poppy says, her voice wistful.

“I’ll call you when I get to the hotel.” We typically fly back after a game, but since we’re in New York, we’re leaving in the morning.

They blow kisses and I hang up feeling that ache, counting the hours until I’m back home, wrapping an arm around Poppy’s waist and crouching down so Becca can jump on my back.

I walk out and try to shake the melancholy before I get on the bus. The guys are having a heyday with my lovesick self. When we get to the hotel, I think about taking a walk. Sometimes I need to wind down after a game and just regroup.

“Bowie.” It’s a voice I thought I’d never hear again.

I turn, and there she is. Adriane. She’s standing near the entrance of the hotel. Her hair’s shorter than I remember, her face fuller. She smiles and my gut twists. I wouldn’t expect to still know her at all, but I recognize the look on her face instantly. The look that says she thinks she can walk back into my life and pick up where we left off. My stomach knots tighter.

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