Page 92 of Interference
We had it all planned out.
“I’m sorry, I know we had plans to go together. That doesn’t mean that it’s not going to happen, though. All it means is that we will have to wait another four years.”
Kaitlyn groans. “Are you serious right now? You’re going to make me keep competing for another four after this? I was going to be one and done, then go hog wild. I was going to learn how to do keg stands while weighted down by my medals.”
Tipping my head back, I laugh at the image. If given the chance, I’m sure she would do it too.
“I mean, you can still do it and then start training again,” I point out.
“Fine, if you insist. Are you seriously good, though? Are you happy?”
Brett looks over at me for a split second before looking back at what’s going on around him.
“Honestly, I’m perfect. This wasn’t expected or anything, but I’m happy. It almost feels too good to be true.”
“And your baby daddy? Is it the guy you’ve been hooking up with the entire time you’ve been there?”
“Yes, it’s Brett.”
“Are you two together finally, or did he bounce when you told him?”
I chuckle under my breath. “Yes, we are officially together, and to say he was excited would be an understatement. As soon as I told him, he stepped up. He never questioned if he was the dad. All he asked was what I wanted to do and if I was okay.”
She whistles. “Damn, so what I’m hearing is that you got one of the good ones.”
“The best.”
“Does he have any friends?” she teases, making me smile.
“Most of his friends are taken, but I’m sure if you came down for a weekend, you could find someone to pass the time with. I mean, he is a hockey player after all.”
She hums. “I could be a skater bunny for a minute.”
“I think you mean puck bunny,” I say with humor in my voice.
“Is there really any difference?”
“Probably not. Now tell me, how’s training going, and please don’t leave a detail out.”
For the rest of Brett’s practice time, I listen to my friend tell me all about her training schedule and how it’s going. Shockingly enough, I’m not jealous at all.
Leaving the locker room, I see her right away. She’s leaning against the wall, bump clearly on display.
Fuck. Weeks ago, when we were working out, I thought about how gorgeous she would be when she really started to show. To say my imagination didn’t do the real thing justice would be an understatement.
She looks over at me and smiles.
“Hey, you looked good out there, hotshot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I watched you put the puck in the net,” she says, making me laugh.
“You know most people would call that scoring a goal, right?” I tease.
“Potato. Potahtoe.”
“Thanks for waiting for me.”
