While I waited for him to answer, I laid on my stomach, staring at the black and white photo of our baby. It felt so strange to sayour baby. I never imagined I would be pregnant with Jameson’s baby. Hell, I never imagined I’d be pregnant with any baby.
“Hey beautiful,” Jameson answered after a few rings.
The anxiety hit me hard in that moment knowing I had something I wanted to tell him but couldn’t. It felt like I was lying to him and Idid notlike that feeling.
I could hear the sound of engines in the background drowning out his voice and the breaking in the call reception.
“Hey handsome, where are you?” I rolled over on the bed. Lying on my stomach was starting to make me sick again, either that, or it was the five slices of pizza I just consumed on my emotional eating binge.
“Oh sorry,” he apologized. “I’m at Lernerville with Tyler and Justin. It’s a charity event, mom and Emma scheduled me for an appearance and then of course, I decided to race.” He chuckled softly. “Tyler knowing me, already had a car ready when I got here. Ryder even showed up. He’s back racing full time.”
Ryder Christensen was a USAC driver he grew up racing with that suffered a horrific crash at Knoxville a few years back.
Ryder, Tyler, Justin, Cody Weldon, and Jameson were all within the same age group and spent years battling against each other through USAC. A strong bond was formed between those boys that’s for sure.
“Oh, how’s it going?” I leaned over placing the picture inside my nightstand. “Good to be back on dirt?”
“Sway,” he sighed contently. “I’ve missed dirt track racing, so much. I wish you were here with me though, it’s not the same. All the boys say hello.”
It was entertaining to me that he thought he wouldn’t miss dirt track racing. He grew up where dirt track racing was all he knew. Steady and determined, that love led him to what he thought he didn’t want, NASCAR. But if you knew Jameson the way I did, you knew he missed the days when he raced just to race on those bullring dirt tracks.
“Are you still flying home after Pocono?”
“Yeah, I have to meet with the contractor for my house on Monday but Alley said she’d do it for me so I could be with you until I need to leave for Watkins Glen on Wednesday.”
“I can come with you to that race.” I suggested.
“Really?” Jameson sounded relieved.
“Yeah, I’m not really needed here for a couple weeks. We need to talk so I’d like—”
Jameson interrupted me. “That would be...great. Sway, honey I hate to cut you off but my heat race is up and I can’t hear you very well. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Okay, I love you.”
He chuckled. “I love you too.”
Hanging up the phone, I slumped back against the bed.
Before long, I reached for the picture again. Every time I looked at it, my hand fell to my stomach for confirmation. I didn’t look pregnant, sure, the funbags were enormous but other than that, my stomach was still flat. The prominent ridges of my hips bones were still present, and though I was surprised I had them, the muscles in my stomach were still defined.
I didn’t resemble a pregnant woman that’s for sure, emotionally yes, but not physically.
The next few days passed quickly. I spoke to Jameson twice, both times he was arguing with Kyle or Mason while we talked so it wasn’t much of a conversation.
On Saturday night, Emma helped me out at the track and I wished she wouldn’t have. She wanted to redesign our whole public relations setup.
And to make my night worse, I ran into someone I never thought I’d see again.
Mike Tanner, a guy I had a one-night stand with. Let me tell you something about Mike Tanner, he was the reason women had one-night stands. You couldn’t stand him longer than one evening. And I might add, he squealed like a pig when he came.
“Hey Mike, what are you doing here?” I asked and immediately felt stupid for asking when I realized he was in a racing suit, helmet in hand.
“I’m racing on the Northern Sprint Tour and the World of Outlaws on a limited schedule for Quincy.” He gave a cocky shrug. “Tonight I’m going back to my roots and racing an outlaw late model. What are you doing here?” Mike asked with excited eyes.
“Oh, well my dad...actually, my boyfriend owns the track. I’m the General Manager.”
“Really? Who’s your boyfriend?” he asked. I could tell by the look on his face he was disappointed there wouldn’t be a repeat performance of the last time we’d met.