Page 44 of The Final Faceoff
Help with Nutrition: Make sure healthy foods are accessible, and respect any aversions or cravings she may have.The chef has that covered. Check.
Emotional Support: Validate her feelings, listen without judgment, and remind her that she is capable, even when she has doubts.I exhale, dragging a hand down my face. That last part feels like the hardest one. Not because I don’t want to do it. But because Hailey is Hailey. She’s spent her entire life proving she doesn’t need anyone to carry things for her.
I sigh and set the e-reader down on the table beside me.
The couch creaks slightly as Hailey shifts. Her breathing changes just enough for me to know she’s waking up.
She peeks one eye open, blinking slow and groggy. “You’re still awake?”
I raise a brow, glancing at the time on my watch. “At nine at night? Yeah, I like to live on the edge.”
She huffs a sleepy laugh, stretching one arm overhead, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. “You’re usually in bed by now, Grandpa.”
I close the e-reader with a click. “You’ve got jokes, huh? Didn’t realize growing a human made you this bold.”
“Pregnancy has unlocked my full potential,” she says, voice still thick with sleep. “I have no filter now. Prepare thyself.”
“Oh, I’m shaking.” I roll my eyes. “A tiny human is going to . . . how are you planning on making me pay?”
She shrugs. “I won’t give away my secrets.” She smirks, rolling onto her back, but the movement makes her wince slightly. I know she won’t admit it, but she’s probably sore. Between the stress of today and the fact that she fell asleep in a position that should be illegal, it’s a miracle she hasn’t fully turned into a pretzel.
“Let me guess,” she says, shifting onto her side to face me. “You spent the last two hours going over some boring hockey game you thought was important to watch since you have to go back to training soon?”
I lean back, tilting my head. “Close.Pregnancy for the Modern Parent.”
Her eyes widen. “No.”
“Oh, yeah.” I tap the screen of my e-reader. “I now know everything there is to know about morning sickness, mood swings, and how your uterus is currently doubling in size. Fascinating stuff.”
She groans, covering her face with both hands. “I hate that you know that.”
“You should be thanking me. I’ll be fully prepared for when you go full exorcist and projectile vomit across the penthouse.”
She peeks out between her fingers, scowling. “That’s not going to happen.”
I shrug. “That’s not what the literature says.”
“The literature is wrong.”
“You say that, but deep down, you’re comforted knowing I’ll be able to identify all your pregnancy symptoms before you even experience them.”
“Absolutely not.” She sits up, rubbing her face. “I refuse to let you be the person who tells me what’s happening to my body before I even realize it.”
“Tough luck, babe. I’m already three chapters in.”
Her mouth falls open. “Did you just call me babe?”
I smirk. “I figured I should get used to it since pregnant women love pet names. It says so in the book,” I lie. “Babe, honeybun, little incubator, my radiant mother-to-be?—”
She bolts upright, horrified. “Little incubator?”
I nod solemnly. “It also says you’ll respond better to affection if I call you ‘mama bear,’ ‘snuggle womb,’ or my personal favorite—‘gestation station.’”
“Oh my God, shut up.” She grabs the throw pillow and chucks it at my face. I catch it easily, tossing it onto the chair next to me, laughing.
“Careful, snuggle womb. Sudden movements aren’t recommended at this stage.”
“I will throw up on you.”
