Duff’s Big Break

Holden

I'm whipping up more than just laughter tonight for our beloved Coach Duff. Crafted by Beth, the queen of schemes, this bash promises secret spills amidst the revelry. But beneath the frothy fun, Britt's brewing storm of emotions threatens to spill over. As pies fly, secrets might too, in a night where laughter mingles with the silent glances that speak volumes. So tighten your grip on that napkin—it's not just about the celebration; it's about the surprises that come when you least expect them!

Playlist: "Having My Baby" by Paul Anka

The surprise party for Coach Duff is Beth's idea. She's the one who issued secret invitations, the one who made the cake, and the one who strong-armed all the other guests into bringing stuff to share.

Franklin, however, was the one who decided we should throw pies.

"Come on, Bennett!" Franklin holds up a pie tin full of Cool Whip. "Right in the face. I believe in you."

Britt watches the proceedings with interest. She's been quiet since the doctor's appointment the other day and has refused point-blank to discuss her feelings, anything resembling plans, or to acknowledge that our lives are about to change in a big way.

At least, her life is. She shut me down when I tried to ask about where I fit in the picture. The picture that now includes my child.

The child I created with the woman I'm falling in love with.

As I watch Britt laugh with the team, a hollow ache expands inside me. She's carrying a part of me, a tangible fragment of what could be us—a future that suddenly feels as fragile as frost on a window. Each time I glance her way, I'm gripped by a fear that's new and gnawing. The baby—our baby—feels like a dream I'm terrified to fully believe in.

I want this, more than I've wanted anything, to be a dad, to share this wild, beautiful journey with her. Heck, even though we haven't known each other all that long, we share the same values. We're old enough and established in our careers. We own homes. Yet, the cold space she keeps between us is a barrier I don't know how to breach. Every time I reach out, trying to bridge the gap with tentative hopes and whispered dreams, her silence builds it higher. This child could be our greatest adventure, our deepest bond, yet I'm standing on this side of her walls, alone, holding onto a future that feels like it might slip away as easily as sand through clenched fingers.

I was afraid I'd wake up the next morning to find that she'd made good on her threat to leave, but she was still in the bed next to me and has been there every morning since. I wish she'd tell me what she's thinking, though.

The baby discussion is officially shelved for now, but it seems she's open to other discussions.

"Is pieing people in the face for their birthdays a thing up here?" she whispers.

"Nah, not usually. Coach Duff is just… special." I tip my chin toward the circle of guys. "As you can probably tell."

Sure enough, Coach Myron Duff is doing a little jig on the spot. "Pie me if you can, sonny! Show me what you've got!"

Bennett, who is the last person I'd expect to be the inaugural pie-er, shakes his head. "If you say so. Here goes…"

The pie tin goes flying, but instead of getting Coach Duff in the face, the edge of the pie tin clips his forehead. It flips sideways and lands upside-down on his head. I swear to God, there's a sad-trombone sound as it slides sadly down the side of Coach's face and splatters cream across his shoes. I'm slightly relieved to discover that Heath was the foley artist responsible for the audio commentary.

The awkward silence is broken by scattered laughter. Brogan points at his brother and cackles. "No wonder you never score any goals, Benny. You've got shit aim!"

"Hardy har har. Don't call me that." Bennett glares at him. "You know I score more goals than most of you."

Shep slaps Duff on the back. "It almost looks like you have hair now, Coach."

"I have hair!" Duff's hand flies to his head in what appears to be an automatic gesture. He ends up smearing the Cool Whip across his scalp in the process.

"What a bunch of clowns." Beth shakes her head in amusement. "I hope Bennett knows he's cleaning that up." Her hands move while she talks, pouring a beer I didn't order, followed by a shot of Goldschlager for Britt. She pushes them across the bar to us.

Britt takes one look at the drink, gags, and bolts for the restroom without another word.

"Well, shit." Beth nudges the beer toward me. "How far along is she?"

I reach for my wallet to pay for the drinks. "She told you?"

Beth's glare could curdle fresh milk. "You think I'd have poured her a shot if she'd told me? No, she didn't say anything. The gagging and disappearing act kind of gave her away."

"Right." I drum my fingers on the bar and look around. I'm not ready to shout the news from the rooftops just yet, and the bar's pretty crowded. Fortunately, Brogan is teaching Shep and Duff some of his Ric Flair inspired wrestling moves, which has people pretty distracted. "We just recently found out," I add in a much lower voice.

Beth pushes my money back toward me and picks up the abandoned shot. "So… are congratulations in order?"

I frown. "She's pregnant. Of course, congratulations are in order."

"And yet, you're being subtle about it." Beth's left eyebrow climbs higher until she just about runs out of forehead.

"Britt says that we should wait until the second trimester." That's a thing, right?

She swirls the shot glass, making the flecks of gold dance in the low light of the bar. "Are you sure that's why?"

"Absolutely. What else could it be? I'm pretty sure the pregnancy is a sign." Sure, I haven't taken the leap yet, but I'm going to. Soon. Any minute, practically. I just need to figure out what exactly I'm asking her for. I'd love for her to stay in Sorrowville, at least for now. It's a great place to raise a kid.

A kid. I'm going to have a kid. With Britt. Our DNA is going to make a whole new person. My stomach clenches, and I consider making a break for the bathroom, too.

Beth licks her lips. "Holden, Britt is a lot like me. You remember my story. Don't try to get her to marry you just because she's pregnant. And I'm assuming you didn't do it on purpose, right? The getting her pregnant part?"

"No! I didn't. We've always used protection." I shake myself out of my spiral. "And I'm not. I didn't even ask her."

She extends her index finger toward me and glares at me over the rim of the glass. "You're thinking about it. I know you."

"I mean… why wouldn't I want to marry the mother of my child? It's the right thing to do…"

"And you're smitten. Even a blind man could see that." Beth rolls her eyes. "True love takes time. You have to nurture it. It has to grow and blossom into the kind that lasts."

"What's not to love about Britt? And it's not like getting married was even my idea. I think this was meant to be. She's already almost completely remodeled and decorated my whole house. I heard her on the phone with her father before she knew she was pregnant. She told him she might just marry me."

Beth's eyebrows are lost in her hairline, never to return. "She said that?"

"She did."

"Jesus." Beth sucks in a breath, then tosses back the Goldschlager like it's water.

"What?" I ask.

She doesn't get a chance to answer. Britt emerges from the bathroom, looking slightly green. She returns to my side, but she doesn't look at me, focusing all of her attention on Beth instead. "I'm not feeling so hot. No drinks for me tonight."

"I gathered that, but tell you what, I'll do you one better." Beth rummages around behind the bar and produces a lollipop. It looks like it's been back there awhile. "Here you go."

Britt accepts the candy and studies it with a frown. "What's this for?"

"It was originally for the kids who came around on Halloween during the business trick-or-treat event, but I figured you already did the ultimate trick-or-treat, so. Congratulations. It's your little reward for having a baby on board." She winks.

Britt curls in on herself. "You told her?" she squeaks at me.

"You turned down Goldschlager," Beth reminds her. "Which I figured would only happen if you were pregnant or dead, and since you're still upright…" She trails off and waves her hand in a slow circle. "Process of elimination."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess." Britt fiddles with the plastic wrap over the candy.

"I figure you've already seen Doc Lindy, but if you have any questions or want to bitch about the weird shit that comes along with… you know." Beth makes an incomprehensible hand gesture that I assume is meant to imply pregnancy. "You know who to ask."

Britt and I exchange a skeptical glance.

"Don't give me that crap." Beth hooks her thumb toward the middle of the bar, where Boone and Brogan are trying to lift Bennett onto their shoulders in a sort of human pyramid. Bennett's too heavy and uncooperative, and the younger brothers are radically different heights, and it's clearly not going to work. Still, they're giving it the old college try. "I pushed all three of those dipshits out of my hoo-ha back in the day, so I think I know what I'm talking about."

Britt lets out a braying laugh, while I stare at the brothers Foster in horror. "Those are my friends. You can't talk about my friends coming out of a… a… you know. Especially not yours."

"What, did you think they hatched from eggs?" Beth shakes her head.

I sip my beer. "I try not to think about your hoo-ha, Beth, I really do."

"This is a trip." Britt rips the plastic off of her lollipop and sticks it in her mouth.

"They don't talk like this in the big city, huh?" Beth asks.

"No." Britt swirls the candy against her tongue, staining her mouth cherry-red and making me think of other things she could be doing with that mouth. Then I wonder if thinking about the woman who is incubating my baby makes me a pervert or worse. I'm gonna have to buy a book. "They most certainly do not. But don't let that stop you."