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I mean, I guess that’s a trait one would typically appreciate. He’s an enjoy-and-appreciate-the-moment kind of guy; would rather be all in than nose deep in a device.
I get it.
However, being a public figure has its challenges for players. This just so happens to be August’s. So, if asked, I’ll help him.
Jack has been hinting to me for months now that it’s coming. It’s only a matter of time before I’m told what and with whom my new ‘social focus’ should be on this season.
My goal will definitely be to redirect the focus from August’s escapades to more of his skills on the field.
Because despite being a full-fledged playboy, he’s a damn good third baseman. Every player on the team knows it, too.
I’d like to think that’s why he’s respected the way he is.
Just the thought of talking to August and being alone with him makes me want to eat literal rocks. Anything sounds better than that. It’s not that I’m nervous to tell him I’m pregnant with his child.
I can be blunt and to the point, no problem.
It’s knowing he will only want to be around me more than he already is. At least, if what Navy claims is true, he will be. He all but searches for me in a group setting, ready to annoy the shit out of me at any given opportunity.
He’s successful at it, too.
Setting my notepad down and shutting my computer screen, I work through what I’m going to say, scripting the conversation out in my head.
My office at Makers Park is a corner space. Clear glass cubicle walls overlook downtown Atlanta on the left and the entrance to Makers Park on the right.
It feels right being here. I feel comfortable in my cozy little office. The wood tiling is a deep charcoal, warming it up a bit in contrast to the natural light seeping through. I laid an arrangement of jute and sherpa rugs along the floor to really tie together the cozy feel. I have the furthest thing from a green thumb, so faux plants are as good as it’s gonna get. The only one still displayed is the jasmine plant Taylor gave me when I first started working here.
But it also feels vacant—in a strange way.
It’s always just me. Although I’m adding another part of me to the mix, I still feel an emptiness I long to fill someday.
With what? I’m still unsure of that.
I know there are still so many unanswered questions. So many things to discuss as far as next steps go, but I’m ready. It’s been a week since I found out I’m pregnant, and I know what I need to do.
I’ve taken the time to let it sink in. To feel all the emotions and prepare my heart for one of two outcomes.
Number one being: August believes me. Accepts his role as the father, and we find a way to co-parent civilly.
And number two: He refuses to be involved. Tells me I’m on my own. Throws money my way and leaves me to it.
My heart of hearts tells me August Graves is a better guy than that, but I can’t go into this conversation with false hope. I need to flesh out the possible outcomes in my head and take what comes.
Right now, however, vomit is about to vacate my body.
After that, I’ll tell him.
Well, I’ll brush my teeth first. Then, I’ll break the news.
My hands are shaking,and a cold sweat invades my body.
I’ve had the day to prepare myself. I can do this.
Despite that, I’m not thinking how I normally would—without care and reservation. Because right now, my mind is full of reservations. So much so, I actually researched mercury levels in every fish down the seafood aisle the other day because I read online that too much can be harmful to pregnant women.
I walked away empty-handed, too afraid the labels were misguided.
My feelings have been changing by the minute, and frankly, it’s weirding me out.
