Page 71 of Sure Shot
“Yeah, my teammates were right on target with their teasing.” He chuckles. “This time it’s a little boy.”
“Oh! Congratulations!” The guys in Brooklyn had some kind of pool going to bet on how soon after Dave’s retirement he and Zara would have a second child. It’s funny when a cliché comes true.
But my insides are swimming in turmoil.
The existence of my brother’s first child had been a huge shock. For two years after his first tryst with Zara, Dave hadn’t known he had a child with her. That drama is over now, and I’m happy for them.
So why do I feel so gutted right now? “Congratulations,” I choke out.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
“In May,” I say slowly, turning it over in my mind. While I’m watching the playoffs, my brother will be welcoming his baby son into the world. This time he’ll be there at the hospital, encouraging Zara to push.
Then I’ll go to the Baby Gap and buy one of everything from the baby boy side of the store. I’ll fly up here to hold my nephew, who I will love the moment I lay eyes upon him.
And when I go back home to my quiet Brooklyn apartment, my yearning for a family of my own will become even more clawing and desperate than it already is.
“Bess? Hey.”
“Mmm?” I manage to look up eventually.
“Are you okay?” My brother is frowning at me.
“Perfectly,” I say quickly. “Of course.”
“We should go inside, then.”
“Right!” I say, blinking. I grab my mug and head into the house, already wondering how long I’ll have to wait before the Baby Gap puts out the spring and summer collections.
* * *
The guest room is perfectly comfortable, and the house is quiet, but when I eventually turn in for the night, I can’t sleep. I lie in bed, my head a whirl of tangled thoughts. It occurs to me at some point that this bedroom will probably become the baby’s room. I picture Zara tiptoeing in here to check on her sleeping infant. Then I picture my brother doing the same thing.
I don’t know why Zara’s second pregnancy is hitting me so hard. Even before tonight, I’d wanted what they have. Nothing has changed, except for the better.
So why is it suddenly so difficult to breathe?
* * *
“Richie,” I say into the phone the next morning. “Take a breath.”
“But the coach hates me,” the young defenseman whines into my ear. “How many days are left before the trade deadline?”
“Lots of days,” I say soothingly. “Your job is not to try to guess what the coach is thinking. You can’t control the coaching staff. You can’t control your teammates. You can only control Richie Kristov. Open up your workout plan. Then go to the gym and get busy.” I glance up and give Zara an apologetic smile. It’s her morning off from work, and the two of us are sitting on her coffee shop’s new patio for breakfast and gossip.
“Okay,” he says with a sigh. “You’re right. I’ll stick to the plan.”
“That’s the way to do it,” I promise him. “Go drink a protein shake. Make yourself a to-do list of healthy habits and get busy. I’m counting on you.”
After a few more pats on the head, he finally signs off.
“Sorry!” I tell Zara. “That was just—”
“It’s fine,” she says. “You’re so patient with them when they panic.”
“They just need someone to listen,” I say, putting my phone away. I grab my giant latte in two hands and gulp it straight into my soul. “So tell me everything. When is the baby due?” I force my mouth to make a smile shape. I don’t know why it’s difficult. Another baby in my life to snuggle? Sign me up.
Zara cocks her head. “May. The week before Memorial Day.”
