Page 79 of The Comeback

“Perfect.” She rests her hand on my chest. Over my heart. Right where she belongs.

The front door snaps open. “Are you two going to stand outside necking all day?”

“Dad….” Charlotte rolls her eyes. “We weren’t making out.”

“Thank God. I was afraid to open the door.” A cool puff of air comes in from the north, blowing up a swirl of dust. “Come on in.”

He moves to the side and waits for us to climb the steps to join him as the first splatter of rain falls to the ground. “Thanks for allowing me to come over with Charlotte.”

“Son.” Coach Tillman pats my back. “You’re always welcome here.”

“Oh.” Her mom rushes into the foyer while swiping her hands on a white dishtowel. “Thank you for coming. We’re so excited you’ve worked everything out and are back together.” She throws her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders and tugs her to her side. “You look so happy.” She studies her and then frowns. “Why are you pale?”

A streak of lighting shoots to the ground, and the air cracks. “We need the rain,” Coach Tillman says as he grabs the cake from my hand.

“Brett….” She glares at him and tamps the toe of her shoe on the floor while crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t change the subject.” She returns her attention to Charlotte, unlaces her arms, and smacks her palm back against her forehead. “Are you ill? You aren’t sick, are you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” She frowns. “You don’t have a fever. Did you get car sick? You don’t ever get car sick. You’ve always been the one that could ride the roller coasters with no problem. You need to….” Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. “Tell me you are?”

“She’s what?” Her dad’s forehead wrinkles as he tries to keep up with the conversation.

“Charlotte’s pregnant, aren’t you?” She grabs her into a bear hug without waiting for her answer. Thank God she’s pregnant, or Ruth would be disappointed.

“She’s not pregnant. They’ve only been back together for three days.” His eyes narrow into slits as his gaze shifts to survey me from head to toe. “Unless you knocked up my precious daughter before dumping her.”

“Sir.” I raise my hands in defense and prepare to use my training to run.

“Dad….” Charlotte removes herself from her mom’s embrace. “It isn’t Weston’s fault.”

“Then who’s baby, is it?”

“It’s our baby.”

“How far along are you?”

“Four or five weeks. We don’t know exactly.” She rubs her hands together.

“Then, it’s his fault.”

“Dad,” she says with more exasperation than I’ve ever heard her display, which is saying something with as angry as she was at me a few weeks ago.

He raises his hands in defense as if he knows she’s ready to snap.

“Weston and I are having a baby, and I expect you to be supportive of us.”

“Yes, I’m so happy.” Ruth’s eyes fill with tears as she embraces both of us. “Ignore him. He’s a pain in the ass. We’re thrilled you’re having a baby. I’m dying to be a grandmother.”

“Speak for yourself,” her father mutters, turns on his heel, and marches into the living room.

“He’s fine. Don’t worry about him.”

Yeah, that’s not possible. I follow him into the living room as Charlotte and her mom talk about the upcoming doctor’s appointment and the subsequent addition to the family.

“I realize the timing is less than ideal.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets and studies me. “It’s a good thing you were willing to give up football for her. Otherwise, I’d question whether you were with her just because she’s pregnant. I want better than that for my only daughter.”

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