Page 64 of Goal Line
I run my hand over the barely-there baby bump.
“I was still training pretty hard up until a few weeks ago. I actually didn’t know I was pregnant until I was about five months along, and I had a competition season to finish out.”
“So this is why you changed up the routine, ensuring you didn’t place first in your final competition?” my mom asks. “And why you ended up in the hospital after that flight? Because you’repregnant?”
I nod.
“And can you explain how you’re planning to continue with your skating now that you’ve gotten yourself in this situation?” Mom asks, and I instantly stiffen in my seat.
“This isn’t something that happenedtoEva—” Luke’s voice is hard, but I squeeze his thigh, signaling for him to stop, and he takes the hint. Fighting with my mom over the specifics of my pregnancy won’t make anything better.
“Christopher is relocating to Boston this week,” I say, “and we’ll continue training here with the new coach we hired last week.” When my mom opens her mouth to respond, I continue without letting her interrupt. “That point isn’t up for negotiation. I’ll train on the ice until my obstetrician says it’s no longer safe, and then we’ll train off-ice. Our plan is to be ready for the last Olympic qualifier at the end of this year,” I say, my hand moving over the slightbump of my growing abdomen, “but obviously, things may change.”
“I can’t believe you’d ruin your Olympic dreams like that,” my mom mutters, quietly enough that it could be an internal thought she didn’t mean to say out loud.
“Eva’s skating career hardly feels like the thing to focus on right now,” Luke says, before turning and pressing a kiss to my temple, and I don’t miss the way my dad’s eyes track his movement.
“Don’t you dare tell me whereIshould be focusing my attention, Luke,” my mom says, as Dad sets his fork on his plate and moves his hand to my mom’s leg. I wonder if he’s giving her a supportive pat, or the kind I just gave Luke, encouraging him to back down? “You haveno ideathe extent of the sacrifices we’ve made to help Eva achieve this dream of hers.”
Well, shit.
“Mom.” I keep my voice placating, like I often do when speaking to her. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate those sacrifices, but...” I trail off, unsure of how to justify this when my parents have truly given me everything they could over the years.
“But Eva’s an adult,” Luke grinds out through his clenched jaw, “and married, and about to become a mother herself. We’re not planning to run our decisions about things that affect us, our baby, or our careers, past anyone else—not even our parents.”
Mom pushes her chair back, and the sound of metal scraping against the deck is shrill. Before she can stand, Dad grabs her hand and very quietly says, “You’re not walking out onthisconversation.”
“I’m not worried about either of your careers,” Frank says loudly, like he’s trying to draw attention away from the menacing stare-down between my parents. “But this marriage and accompanying pregnancy do present some logistical issues.”
Oh fuck.If he tells Luke he’s about to be traded, after everything we just did to move Christopher out here so we could train as much as possible before the baby is born, what will we do? Didn’t AJ pretty much guarantee that Luke hadat leastone more season with the Rebels? Our whole arrangement is predicated on us being together in Boston.
Luke clears his throat. “What kind of logistical issues?”
“Depending on when this baby’s born...?” my dad says.
“Early October,” I say.
“Okay, so the baby will be born right around training camp and pre-season games,” Frank says, looking at Luke. “You really can’t miss those, even though you have a new baby at home.”
Luke stabs some of the roasted vegetables on his plate. “I know.”
“So how is Eva going to get the support and help she needs? You can’t just leave your wife and newborn baby like that.”
“Obviously, the timing isn’t ideal,” I say. “But hockey players have babies during the season all the time, and their families manage. We will too.”
“We’re still working out a plan, but it will depend a lot on when the baby arrives,” Luke adds.
The fact that none of our parents has jumped in with an offer of support isn’t lost on me. I’d like to think it’s just because they’re stunned and still processing this news. ButI’d be lying if I denied that it has me a bit worried. But then Frank jumps in, saying, “Make sure you let us know what we can do to help.”
Next to me, Luke lets out a small sigh of relief as the conversation shifts more toward the baby. And as we field our parents’ questions while we eat, I glance over toward my mother where she’s cutting her food and taking bites, without saying a single word.
Eventually, we finish our dinner, and Luke sits back in his chair, slinging an arm over my shoulders. His thumb runs up and down the side of my neck while his fingertips rest along my collarbone. I lean into his touch, resting my head on his shoulder and wishing that this wasn’t just for show, to convince our parents that there are real feelings between us.
And the fact that I so desperately want the feelings between us to be real, nearly ten years after I gave up any hope of being anything but a best friend to Luke Hartmann, has sent my anxiety through the roof. Morgan is right that the adult thing to do is to have an honest conversation with him about this, but I’m terrified of ruining the tenuous agreement we have in place.
My mom excuses herself and returns a minute later. “I made some cupcakes,” she announces, setting a platter in the center of the table. They’re golden with crystalized sugar sparkling upon yellow frosting and a candied lemon slice on each.
I look at that platter and the relief I feel is enormous. I love any and all lemon baked goods, and the fact that my mom made my favorite cupcakes must be a good omen, right? Luke gives my shoulder a quick squeeze, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.
