Page 66 of Goal Line
I wait a few minutes to see if he’ll respond, even though I assume he’s already in bed asleep, but the reply doesn’t come.
Then I glance over at the cupcakes cooling on my counter, and back at Eva sleeping on my couch. Even the noise from me mixing the batter and the timer going off when they were done baking didn’t wake Eva up. Then again, she slept right through the stops at three different bakeries and a grocery store on the way back from her parents place, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.
She woke up momentarily as I carried her from the car and into the elevator, but fell right back asleep in my arms before we even got up to my floor. I considered putting her straight into bed and letting her sleep through the night. But I’m afraid that if she doesn’t get up for a bit, her body will wake her up in the middle of the night thinking it’s already morning.
“Hey, baby, wake up,” I say when I kneel next to the couch, where she’s fast asleep, covered in a light blanket. She’s curled on her side with both hands wedged between the pillow and her cheek, and she scrunches up her nose when I trail my thumb across her brow. “Evie, can you get up for a little bit?”
Startling, her eyes jolt open before they focus on me. “What time is it?” She blinks a few times like she’s trying to convince her eyelids they can stay open.
Goddamn, she’s adorable.It’s not a word I’d normally use to describe her—she’s determined, strikingly beautiful, and strong. But when she’s sleeping, she’s soft, sweet, and utterly adorable.
“It’s after ten at night.”
Her gaze focuses behind me as she looks around the space like she’s completely disoriented. “How did we get up here?”
“I carried you,” I say, realizing that she has no memory of waking up in my arms.
“Man, pregnancy is wild. Inevernap, and now I feel like I could use one every day.”
“You should listen to your body. Napping is linked to healthier birth weight in babies, and given how you probably haven’t gained much weight...”
It’s not that she hasn’t actually gained weight, it’s just that it’s mostly all in her tits and her ass, which unfortunately only adds to her physical appeal. And now she’s finally developing a baby bump, the sight of which has me practically feral.
I don’t know what it is about her being pregnant, but just the thought of watching her body grow and change has me aching with longing. I can’t wait to walk this road to parenthood with her, can’t wait to watch her body change, and can't wait to meet our Baby Squash. And I want to know if this baby is a boy or girl almost as much as I want its mom to want me like I want her.
I never thought we’d end up here together like this—I gave up that hope a long time ago—but now that I have her, now that I’ve seen the way her body responds to mine, now that I’ve watched her start to take down some of the walls she’s built up around herself—I’m more certain than ever that there’s the possibility of arealfuture between us. And I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
She scoffs. “You’re cute.” The sarcastic phrase is followed by an eye roll.
“Oh, come on,” I say. “What have you gained? Like, ten pounds, max?”
“Yeah, well,” she says, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head before reaching down and straightening out her dress. “I have a skating partner who needs to be able to lift me above his head while spinning around the ice, so even ten extra pounds is a problem.”
“Evie, I could lift you above my head with one hand and jump up and down on the ice while spinning around, all without breaking a sweat. So if Christopher is going to have a problem with ten extra pounds, maybe he needs to lift some fucking weights.”
She barks out a quick laugh. “It’s less about how much I weigh and more about weight distribution. Where I’m carrying that weight affects how and where he holds me, and the extra weight affects how fast we travel across the ice. Every millisecond of our choreographed performances is based onnothingchanging. Our height, our weight, our speed...all of it factors into our routine. It’s basic physics, College Boy.” She unfolds her legs and stands up before sniffing the air and turning toward the kitchen. “Did you...bake?”
“Yeah. I stopped at a few bakeries on the way home, and no one had lemon cupcakes.”
She tilts her head, looking up at me over her shoulder. “So...youmademe lemon cupcakes?”
I nod and follow her over to the island where the cupcakes are sitting out on a cooling rack. Google said that was the fastest way to cool them down before frosting them. Her stomach rumbles loudly, and she rubs her hand over her belly. “I think Baby Squash wants some of those.”
“Should we frost them first?” I ask.
She gives me a look that lets me know how silly that question was. “Without frosting, they’re just muffins.”
“Well, even as muffins, these are delicious.”
“You already had some without me?” Her mock outrage is cute.
Then she puts her hands on the counter behind her and jumps up to sit on it, right next to the cupcakes. With her sundress bunched around her thighs, bare feet dangling in front of my kitchen cabinets, and long hair hanging over her shoulders as she glances down at the unfrosted cupcakes, she doesn’t look at all how I described her earlier. She’s not the sweet, sleeping version of herself, or the determined, hardcore athlete the world loves to watch perform.
No, this relaxed, contented version of her ismine.
She raises her eyebrows as she glances up at me, an expectant look on her face.Shit, what did she just ask me?
“Fine,” she says, swiping a cupcake off the cooling rack. “I’m going to have one, too.”
