Page 114 of Sure Shot
“Zara is making goo-goo eyes at him in the living room.” I study Bess for a second. She looks a little pale and also vaguely guilty.
“Ready to go?” she asks, tucking fidgety hands into her back pockets.
“Almost,” I say slowly. “Give me a minute to wash the sweet potatoes off my face. A Roberto no le gustan.”
“Sorry.” Bess winks. “You look sexy like that, though.”
“You liar.”
She stops on her way out of the bathroom, her hand on my arm, her clear blue eyes smiling up at me. “It’s the truth, though. It would take a hell of a lot more than some baby food to dull your shine.”
After she leaves, I catch myself grinning at my reflection. She kills me. I’m so lucky to have had this second chance with her. I’m glad I wasn’t too stupid to take it.
I shuck off my T-shirt and toss it into the hamper. Then I grab a clean button-down from our closet and wander back into the bathroom to comb my hair. Our commute to this party will be easy enough—an elevator ride up to the penthouse level of our building. And since we all chipped in to cater the party, we don’t even have to bring a dish.
My team is having a hell of a season so far. But everyone’s so busy. We need this three-day break.
One of Bess’s bathroom drawers is slightly ajar. It’s the one she’d slammed. I nudge it with my knee, but it won’t close. Something is stuck. I open it, finding the culprit immediately. It’s a vitamin bottle that’s standing upright instead of lying down. Just as I’m tucking it back into place, I catch the label.Folic acid.
Goosebumps rise on my arms. As far as I know, there’s only one use for folic acid. It’s something pregnant women take. My ex took it for years, just in case.
I actually have chills right now.
But, hang on. When I freaked out at Bess last fall, she took some steps toward considering a solo pregnancy. Buying a bottle of folic acid would have been one of them. This bottle is probably just old.
And then there are the condoms that we use. Bess pulls them out at certain times of the month, and I go along with it. She said we shouldn’t waste time thinking about conception. And it works. I never think about it.
Until right this second.
Alone in the bathroom, I let out a strangled laugh. It’s Christmas Eve, her family is here, and we’re on the way to a party. I obviously have to keep onnotthinking about this.
I carefully close the drawer and finish buttoning my shirt.
* * *
Three hours later, the party is winding down. The sky is darkening outside the big windows. The kids are starting to yawn, including the one I’m holding.
I’ve had a fine afternoon. I’m full of roast chicken and cheddar grits and wilted greens and cheesecake. And beer.
“Ante up,” Leo Trevi says, shuffling the deck.
I put two chips on the table and rock the baby while I wait for him to deal.
Earlier, I lost gallantly at ping pong to Heidi Jo Castro. As one does. Now there’s a warm, sleepy baby in a carrier on my chest. He’s zonked from crawling around on the rug and watching my niece Nicole bounce around the party, stealing cookies off the dessert table. She’s three and a half now, with cinnamon hair in two pigtails on either side of her round little face.
That’s what Bess’s daughter would look like.
Oh, boy. Most days my brain doesn’t do that. And I really wish it would stop now.
Roberto presses his cheek against my chest and makes a sleepy little complaint. I pat him on the back. “Duerme ahora.”Sleep now.
Castro shakes his head beside me. “Nunca me dijiste que podías hablar español.”You never told me you could speak Spanish.
“No preguntaste.”You didn’t ask. And, in truth, my Spanish is pretty rusty. “When I was a little boy, my dad was a ranch hand in Washington state. There were some Spanish speakers who worked there, and I liked talking to them. Then I took Spanish in high school and college. I hadn’t spoken a word for years until we needed to convince the social services agency that we should be eligible for the temporary foster care program.”
“Ustedes dos son santos.”You two are saints.
“We’re not,” I insist. “It’s a small thing. Look at this place.” I wave in the general direction of the sumptuous party room, the food and drink. “We live in paradise. I’m only sharing it for a few weeks.”
