Page 125 of Goal Line
“Happy to stay far away,” he says with a decisive nod.
“Good, then I have some paperwork for you to sign. Inexchange, I’ll make sure my family’s share of stock in your company never exceeds fifty percent.”
“Why would you wantanystock in our company?”
I don’t. I just want him to know I own part of his company, and can buy more if I want.
I lift my shoulders in a shrug and say, “Who knows? Maybe it’s a good investment.”
Hans reaches for the envelope I hand him and slides the paperwork and pen onto the table. It’s simple enough—though my lawyers assured me it would hold up in a court of law in both the US and Germany—that he is able to read it over in a few minutes.
He glances up, one eyebrow raised. “This says you’ll sell me the luxury box at cost?”
“Why would I want a box at a German football stadium?” I ask.
His laugh is a snort. “You just throw that kind of money around for fun?”
“Not normally. But there is nothing, and please remember that word . . .nothingthat I wouldn’t do for my wife.”
Hans shakes his head and looks back down at the paperwork, picking up the pen. I swear I don’t breathe until he returns the pen for me to sign on the remaining line.
Once that’s done, I gather up the pages and the pen and stuff them into the envelope. As I turn to leave, I say, “Hopefully, we’ll never have to see each other again.”
His laugh is surprisingly loud. “Yes, hopefully not.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
EVA
“Ican’t believe you made me look presentable,” I say to Ashleigh as I look in the mirror she’s set up on the rolling table that goes over my bed.
I’ve been stuck in this hospital room for a week, eating every meal in bed and watching more movies and TV shows than I’ve ever watched in my life. Since I’m only allowed to leave my bed to go to the bathroom, there’s not much else to do unless I have visitors.
I’d feel like climbing the walls, if only I had the energy. The great news is, we’ve made it to thirty-four weeks and the baby’s lungs are now strong enough that she should be able to breathe on her own once she’s born. Every additional day that passes before delivery will just make her stronger. As much as I don’t want to be tethered to this bed, constantly poked and prodded and monitored, I do want our baby to be healthy.
Ashleigh’s chuckle is soft as she runs a comb through thecurls she created in my hair half an hour ago before encouraging me to do my makeup. She suggested that getting myself ready, like I was going on a date with Luke, might help me feel better. She was right.
“You’re funny. Or blind,” she says. I glance at her in the mirror, and when we lock eyes, she asks, “Has pregnancy affected your brain? Because you’re just as gorgeous now as you were before!”
My laugh comes out like a snort. “I haven’t had a proper shower in a week,” I say, thinking about the one three-minute shower they let me have a couple of days ago. Other than that, Luke’s been giving me baths in my bed with a warm washcloth. “I feel...I don’t even know...enormous, and greasy, and gross.”
“Well, I hope I’m just as enormous, greasy, and gross as you when I’m pregnant,” she says with a smile.
“I do feel better now that my hair is done, I’ve got a little makeup on, and I’m in real clothes.” I look down at the incredibly luxe pajama set Luke brought me yesterday after confirming with the nurses that I could wear something other than a hospital gown. The pale blue pants and tank top are the softest cashmere knit, and I have a feeling I’ll be living in them even after the baby is born because the top has a built-in nursing bra and it came with matching shorts.
“I’m glad I could help,” she says as she takes the curling iron that’s been sitting on the windowsill to cool and wraps the cord around it before sticking it in her bag.
“What else are you up to today?” I ask, suddenly feeling sad that I’m stuck inside on a gorgeous August day. She’s probably got fun Sunday plans, and even though I know I’m exactly where I need to be—and damn lucky that BabySquash and my blood pressure are both doing okay—I’m still feeling a little sorry for myself. Hopefully, Luke will be back soon to keep me company.
Ashleigh glances at her phone screen when it lights up with a text. “Not much, actually,” she says. “Thought I’d hang out with you for a while, if that’s okay?”
Just then, there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” I call out, wishing that the nurses didn’t have to check on me quite so often. It’s not so bad during the day, but being woken up every couple hours at night is taking its toll. Everyone keeps saying, “It’s good practice for when the baby comes.” And while it’s true that I’ll be sleep deprived once she arrives, I can’t help but wish that I could enter parenthood well rested.
I glance over at the alcove where the door is, but instead of the nurse, Jules, Audrey, Morgan, AJ, and Lauren walk in. My jaw drops, and when I get over my shock, I ask, “What are you all doing here?”
They’ve each visited me individually over this past week, except Jules, who just got back from Bali. Those visits, combined with Luke being here almost non-stop, means I’ve rarely been alone. But I wasn’t expecting to see any, much lessall,of my friends today.
“We come bearing gifts,” Lauren says, and it’s then that I notice she’s pulling a collapsible wagon behind her, and it’s loaded with wrapped presents.
