35. Monty

Chapter thirty-five

Monty

Something is definitely wrong. I’ve known it for days, and try as I might, it’s affecting my game. I’ve been calling it the yips, and so far, the other players and staff seem to believe it’s just a bump in the road for me.

Only Yami seems to suspect it’s more than that, and I’ve caught him starting to ask me what’s up a few times, only to stop. It’s as if he knows something I don’t, but for the fucking life of me, I can’t bring myself to ask him.

Then today, seeing her at the airport filled me with a weird mixture of relief, elation, and absolute panic.

Because instead of laughing at my ridiculous sign or running and jumping into my arms like the reunions you see on cheesy movies, Lark just stood there, her beautiful face struggling to contain tears.

When she finally moved toward me, the ice that was rapidly gripping my heart cracked. And when I had her in my arms, I felt like I could take in a full breath once again.

Yet still, that unease remained. Something is wrong, and I need to know what it is .

“Talk to me, please,” I say again, trying to make my voice firm and not sound as shaky as I feel. “I know there’s something going on, Birdie. And I gotta be real with you, it’s freaking me the fuck out. I can’t stop worrying about you, about us.” I suck in a breath. Now’s the time to get fully vulnerable. “It’s messing with me. I fucked up the signals the other day, let way too many balls past me, and tripped over my own goddamn feet trying to get to one. Whatever it is, I can handle it. What I can’t handle is not knowing if you’re okay. If we’re okay.”

The last three words are said in a whisper. The deepest, darkest fears of my heart. That somehow, I’ve done something wrong. That it’s me, I’m not enough for her, she’s not happy, that I’m losing her.

When tears spill from her eyes, I reach up to wipe them away with my thumb, ignoring the wetness tracking down my own face.

“Birdie. Lark. Please, talk to me.”

I see her throat move in a swallow and her shoulders rise and fall in a long, slow breath. When she opens her mouth, I brace myself for the worst.

“I’m pregnant.”

What the actual fuck?

In all the scenarios that played out in my mind the last few days, a baby never factored into a single one.

Pregnant?

But even as I stare at her, the pieces fall into place. I swear, I’m not an idiot, but I sure as shit feel like one. She was exhausted, nauseous, and emotional.

I may not have ever had a girlfriend, but I went to sex-ed class in high school. I’ve been around guys with kids. I’ve watched movies and heard the stories. I know what the early signs of pregnancy can be.

Yet still, somehow, I never considered this.

At some point in my mental processing, Lark has managed to move off my lap without me noticing. Until I open my mouth and say probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever said.

“How?”

She paces away from me, her arms wrapped around her stomach, and I hate that I’m not touching her. Especially when she chokes out a laugh.

“Well, you see, when a man and a woman —”

No. No fucking way. I stand up and close the distance between us in a second, gripping her gently by the shoulders.

“Lark. Give me a second, please. I’m handling this all wrong. I just…” Words fail me, and I know I’ve got to figure my shit out, and fast, or I’ll lose her. “Shit, Birdie, a baby ?”

Another forced laugh.

I drop to my knees and place my hands on her stomach. “Hi, baby bird.” When I look up at her, she’s staring down at me, her mouth partly open and eyes filled with tears.

“Dan?” she whispers brokenly. And there’s so much weight to that one word, my name, phrased as a question.

“This is amazing,” I say quietly. “I don’t know the odds, but I’m guessing they were not exactly good. And yet somehow, we did this. We made a fucking baby.” I grin, even through my tears that are no longer based in fear but in pure, exquisite joy. “I’ve got super sperm.”

Lark snorts, then claps her hand over her mouth, muffling her laugh. But it’s music to my ears. I lean in and kiss her stomach. Once, twice, then again just because I can’t stop marveling at it.

“We need to talk about this,” Lark says, her voice still a little shaky. With a decisive nod, I stand and take her hands.

“Yeah, we do.”

She lets me lead her back to the bed, but this time, instead of sitting down, I stretch out on my side and pull her down with me. As much as I want to be looking into her beautiful eyes right now, I need to feel like I’m protecting her from all the craziness she’s been dealing with alone for the last few days.

Wrapping my big spoon around her little spoon, my hand lands on her stomach, my fingers splayed out as wide as I can.

There’s a baby in there. My baby.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” Lark starts. “And it wasn’t exactly like this was in my plan, either. But I want to keep it. I know you need to focus on baseball, and that’s fine. I’ll be okay. Whatever you need to do. I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you, I just…I decided I’m keeping the baby.”

For the second time tonight, I’m stunned speechless. Only this time, it’s not a good feeling. I remove my hand, sliding away and scrubbing my hand over my face, trying to make sense of what she just said. But once again, my lack of experience with relationships fucks me over, and I instantly know pulling away was the wrong choice.

Lark draws her knees up, pointedly staying on her side, facing away from me. And when I touch her hip, she tenses up.

“Lark.”

She doesn’t move .

“Lark Miller, love of my fucking life, stop being so stupid.”

That makes her move. Rolling over, she glares at me. Good. I want her angry. It’s better than her thinking I could possibly be anything other than thrilled right now.

“Let me make one thing crystal clear,” I say, my voice firm as I stare down at her. “This baby is growing inside your body. That means, ultimately, it’s your choice what happens. And I would respect your decision, no matter what it was, no matter how much it might hurt. But make no mistake. I want this baby. I want our baby. And I want to have it with you. This is a fucking miracle, and there’s not a chance I’m ever gonna see it as anything but.”

If you were to ask me four months ago how I felt about the idea of having a kid right now, I would have been horrified. A baby changes everything. But that was before. Before I knew Lark loved me. Before I knew I could have the future I never let myself even dream of. A future with her in it.

Now? Yeah, sure, it’s going to change things. I’m not naive enough to think a baby won’t fundamentally alter my entire life.

But none of that matters anymore. Because the second she uttered those two words, something locked into place inside of me. A part of myself I didn’t even know existed. As if every priority, every goal, every dream rearranged themselves in my brain, making room for a new number one.

“You’re really okay with this?” Lark whispers, and I can see hope starting to clear away the anguish that was there before.

It kills me to think she spent any time at all worrying about my reaction instead of being filled with joy and excitement.

“Yeah, I am. I’m more than okay. I’m so fucking excited, I honestly don’t know how to express it.” I leap up to stand on the bed, pumping my fists in the air and hitting the goddamn ceiling, but who the hell cares? “I’m having a baby!” I shout at the top of my lungs before following it up with a loud whoop .

“Oh my God, stop!” Lark says, but she’s laughing again as she pulls at my hand, dragging me back down beside her. I go willingly and push her onto her back so I can cover her with my body.

“Lark, I’ve never been this happy. Not even on the day I got my first major league contract or the day you kissed me. This beats out everything else for best moment of my entire life.”

I lean down and kiss her, and finally, everything feels right. She melts underneath me, her hands raking through my hair before settling into place, looped around my neck. I move to the side, and she rolls to me as I lift one of her legs up to drape it over my hip.

“You realize one thing, I hope,” I murmur against her lips.

“What?”

“You’re stuck with me for life now.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Fuck. I want to ask her to marry me. Right here, right now. But we haven’t ever talked about that. Hell, we talked about kids but not marriage. Backward, I know, but hey, maybe some weird, cosmic part of us knew what was coming.

I guess it doesn’t matter whether my ring’s on her finger or not. Lark Miller is mine, now and always.