Page 84 of Home Run

“What time will you get to your mom’s?” I asked, ten minutes later, walking out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in one hand and my toiletry bag in the other.

Millie put down the book she was reading and picked up her phone. “Radley says lunchtime.”

“Lunchtime? You’re not driving?”

“Nope, helicopter.”

“Pays to be besties with the president’s daughter, huh?” I sat down on the edge of the mattress next to Millie. Placing my hand over her belly, I was suddenly overcome with a bout of nerves at the thought of her flying through the air at high speed. And not even in a plane. I’d never thought much about helicopters, but now I was, they seemed way too rickety to transport a pregnant woman. The interstate wasn’t any better either. Maybe I should tell her not to come. “You going to be okay flying?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because…you know…it’s not safe,” I spluttered.

“It’s a presidential helicopter.”

“I’m not sure that makes me feel better.” I chuckled, and reaching for my travel bag, I dropped it on the end ofthe bed to finish packing. “They’re better than regular helicopters though, right? Aren’t they bombproof or something?”

Millie’s brows dropped. “What?”

Picking up the pile of baby books I’d had on the end table, I tossed them inside the bag. “Babe, you’re pregnant, and I don’t know if you should be flying.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” I stopped, I didn’t want to say it out loud. I didn’t want to put it into the universe, as Holiday would say. “Just…is itsafe? The pilots are good? What happens if you get sick?”

“Well, they fly the President of the United States, so I’m assuming they have some kind of qualification,” she replied in a tone that said she thought I was going nuts. The smirk she was wearing didn’t help. “And it comes equipped with full medical support.”

“And Radley’s Secret Service will be there, won’t they? The big guy, Jake, he knows medical stuff?”

“Yes.He has training…Tan?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’ll be safe. You don’t need to worry.”

I didn’t tell her I would worry until I saw her again. Instead, I went back into my closet, opened one of the bottom drawers until I found what I was looking for, and took it out to her. “Will you still wear this?”

Holding it up to unfold, a smile stretched across her face as she took it in. My shirt, my name.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Thank you.” I chucked a final pair of sneakers into my bag, zipped it up, and returned to sit next to her. Her hair was still a little tangled from sleeping, and a couple of strands were stuck to her shoulder, which I tucked behind her ear. “You can stay as long as you want, go back to sleep, or whatever you need. Take a bath, hang out?—”

“I have to pack for D.C., but I can do all that at mine.”

“I know, I just like thinking of you here in my space, using my things.”

Her hand cupped my cheek, it didn’t quite fit around it, but I found myself leaning into it anyway, especially when she brushed her thumb across my stubble.

“You’re really very sweet, you know that.”

“Yes. I do. What d’you think I’ve been trying to tell you for so long? I. Am.Sweet. For someone getting an Ivy League degree, you’re a little slow on the uptake.”

Her eyes rolled upward and she was still laughing as I walked out to meet the guys in the living room.

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