Page 22 of Time Out

“Doctor wanted to do it to check my dates and stuff, get a better idea.”

There’d be a blob of grayness against gray grain. When Annie told me she was ten weeks along this last time, she said her baby was the size of a kumquat, which I’d taken to calling it for the last several months since it was hilarious. If Maggie was eight weeks… well, there was an almost kumquat-sized ball on those pictures, and as soon as I saw it, I’d have to face reality.

She was pregnant.

With my child. I didn’t doubt her honesty. I’d only known her one night, but somehow, even with something this big, I trusted her.

I was going to be a dad. Which meant I had to grow up far earlier than I’d ever anticipated. I reached out and pressed two fingers to the edge of the paper like it’d shoot a spark of fire through me and tugged it close.

There it was.

“Looks like a gummy bear.”

Across the island from me, Maggie chuckled. The sound was muted against the roar in my ears as I slid my finger over the photos. A tiny blob with stubby little arms and legs already showing.

My throat tightened, and my chest squeezed so tight air left me on a wheeze.

“Holy shit. I’m going to be a dad.”

“Yeah,” Maggie said. And I was still staring at the picture, but I was pretty sure she was grinning.

What in the hell did I do now?

And what was my family going to do when I told them?

“Okay.” Rubbing my hands together, I ignored the fact my palms were clammy. This was a big deal. “What’s the plan?”

Thick, perfectly trimmed brows rose on her forehead, and a cracker froze halfway to her mouth. “Plan?”

All right. So I wasn’t really a planner outside of football, but I could do this. There were things that would need to be bought. Appointments to be made. Hopefully she could schedule them for Tuesdays when I had the day off, but if she couldn’t, I could work with that. Then there was where she’d live—with me if possible so I could be there for her.

“Yeah. Plan. I’m assuming you came here because you want something from me?”

“Want something from you…” She set down the cracker and brushed crumbs off her hands. “What does that mean? Like money?”

“Yeah. I mean, the baby is going to need a lot of things. Money for sure, but what else?”

Her head tilted to one side, and her lips pinched. Was she getting sick? I pushed the plate closer to her.

“Are you implying I can’t take care of myself or this child? That what? I came here for your money?”

“Um. I mean, when we met, you weren’t exactly employed…”

Her eyes widened to saucers, and she inhaled a deep breath. “Wow.” The word came out on a breath, and she was already shaking her head, backing up, hands out, facing me. “You are… you are not the guy I thought you were.”

And I was pretty sure there was a tinge of disappointment in her tone, but was I wrong?

“Maggie—”

“No. Stay right there. I’m going to go, and maybe, I never should have come here to tell you.”

“Then why did you?”

If she didn’t want my help, why was she here?

“Because, asshole.” She threw her purse strap over her shoulder. “I thought you’d want to know. Want to be involved in this child’s life. I didn’t come here looking for your cash. I came for you, not some fucking payout. But my mistake.”

She flung the door open, and it took a second to take in what she said, and by the time I was rushing after her, hurrying because, of course, I wanted to be there for this baby in every single way, the door to the elevators were closing, and the last sight of Maggie I had was her wiping away a tear.

---