Page 59 of The Girlfriend Game
Twenty-Eight
Kendall
The summer speeds by faster than I anticipated and much faster than I wanted with fall just around the corner.
My days are spent working at a job that I love, helping those in need of therapy, taking on some new athlete clients, and spending my nights wrapped up in Zeke’s arms.
Had you asked me three months ago if I’d be this happy after meeting a man through a dating app, the answer would have been an unequivocal no.
But Zeke is not just any man.
Our relationship began unconventionally, I’ll admit, but our hearts and souls are connected in ways I’ve never imagined they could be for two so very different people.
Unfortunately, the little bubble we’ve built for the two of us over the summer will soon be upended when he returns to the Pilots’ team practices next week, and then into the new basketball season. In fact, tonight, we have plans to go to the end of summer picnic at Marek Talbert’s home on Mercer Island, where he’s hosting the team and staff of the Pilots’ roster, introducing the rookies to all the veteran players.
As I stand in my closet full of clothes, but feeling like I have nothing to wear, I peruse my choices. Zeke said it was casual and we’d be outside on the back lawn overlooking Lake Washington.
I thumb through my stock of casual summer dresses, stopping at one my favorite off-the-shoulder dresses. The material is a brilliant white gauze with a big yellow belt at the waist. I would normally avoid white or anything too tight around my tummy this time of the month when my period is due.
A sickening panic claws at my chest as I rush into the bathroom, whipping open my medicine cabinet where a small magnetic calendar hangs on the inside of the door. Flipping back to August, and then to July, I realize the last period I had was a few weeks before my parents’ anniversary party. Two months ago.
My hands land against the bathroom counter to hold up my unsteady, shaking legs. No, that can’t be possible. There must be another reason my period is late. Very late.
I’ve not always been 100 percent regular. There have been times when I’ve been a few days late. It’s never been a problem before.
But this is different.
I wasn’t having sex on the regular.
I shake off the anxious and unnecessarily over-dramatic speculations. It’s ridiculous that I’m considering the possibility of being pregnant without any real evidence. There’s no reason to assume the worst.
Although…I did come down with a sinus infection a few days after the party and was on antibiotics for a week. Did we have sex during that time?
I think back to that week while I was laid up in bed, weak and barely able to move my head. Kerry and my mom were over every other day to check on me, bringing me soup and food to keep up my strength. And even though I asked Zeke to stay away, he stopped by on two separate occasions.
The second time was toward the end, when I was finally feeling like my old self again. And, if I recall, also very horny.
Shit. What if?
The doorbell rings, startling me from my thoughts.
I stare down at my nearly naked body, pressing a hand to my bare belly, a weird swirl of emotion hitting me like a tsunami as I leave my room and pad downstairs to the front door.
It’s such a crazy notion, but my stomach swoops with excitement over the possibility that, however unlikely, I might be pregnant. Knowing it’s Zeke from the shadow through the frosted window, I open the door, but duck behind it to hide myself from view.
Zeke smiles brightly, hovering in my doorway, looking his usual casual and confident self. With an arm stretched above him, he leans into peer around the door with a chuckle.
“You’re not dressed yet. Is this a hint?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, stepping into the entryway with a hot once-over of my body and then a glance at his watch. “Because I can be convinced to arrive fashionably late.”
Instead of finding his comment humorous, it shakes loose a memory of a conversation we had early on, when he adamantly denied ever wanting children.
“I feel sorry for all those suckers,” he said, shaking his head with an exaggerated eye roll as we left the restaurant. “Don’t they realize what they’ll be giving up when they have kids? Freedom. Sleep. Time for themselves. Sex whenever they want.”
He snorted, as if the idea of being a father was a grotesque picture of a life he never wants to lead.
My heart flipped like a fish on dry land, bopping around with a rattle.
I cringed as I even suggested this, but I needed to ask him the question. To be sure he wouldn’t change his mind under the right scenario.
