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“What?” I grin, striding my way over to his side. “Haven't you learned to put up with this by now?”
He kisses my cheek tenderly—the only time he’ll ever pull his eyes away from a game. “You’re not someone that has to get ‘put up’ with.” He smirks. “Take all the pictures you want. I want to look back on them. I want to add them to the scrapbook.”
My heart softens at the thought. After discovering Gramps’ scrapbook back in Houston, Warren and I decided to start making one of our own.
Over the past eighteen months, we’ve filled the album with Crawfield's accomplishments and all the milestones Warren and I have reached together.
Officially signing for joint ownership of Crawfield.
Moving in together.
Expanding not only the team…butour family.
Warren gently places a careful hand on my swollen bump, brushing his thumb over it. I’m 32 weeks pregnant now—he followed through on his word, that’s for sure.
I smile down at his hand and place mine on top of it before he brushes a loose strand of hair out of my face, prompting me to peer up into his eyes.
“I love you?—”
The whistle blows, signifying that the game is over, and he releases his careful touch.
He plants a final kiss on my cheek before racing out onto the field, engulfing the team in his embrace as they all jump into the air and cheer ecstatically. And just like that, he’s back to being wrapped up in his favorite world. There’s nothing quite like seeing him this happy—he’s a kid at heart, and these are his boys.
Like the chaos on the field, the entire stadium has erupted in roars and cheers. Yup, we’ve had a full house tonight—and every night this season.
I rest my hand on my stomach as I look out at the PR team I’ve built myself, who, one by one, are snapping pictures of the celebration and capturing all angles, just like I’d trained them to.
“C’mon over, Delaney!” It’s Wilks that prompts me to join them. “This is baby Parks’ first season high!”
I jog my way over—as fast as someone in their third trimester can—and join in on their embrace. The boys were beyond enthused when Warren and I broke the news. They’ve got their bets placed on a girl, but despite leaving the gender a secret until the baby is born, I’ve got a heck of a feeling they’ve got a future teammate coming.
They carefully engulf me in their arms as soon as I reach them, patting me on the back or wrapping me into hugs until Wilks reaches over and places a hand on my pregnant belly. “Hey, the baby gave us good luck.”
Warren glares in his direction, prompting Wilks to retract his hand almost immediately. “Get your own girl, Wilks.” His voice is serious, quieting the boys for a brief moment until he flashes a playful smirk. “I’m kidding.”
The team bursts back into shouts and celebrations, laughing, smiling, jumping up and down together, yet right before they’re about to disperse down the tunnel, I stop them.
“Wait!” I call out, halting them in place. “I want to take a group picture.” I glance over at Warren with a smile. “For the scrapbook.”
The boys all agreed to my request, nodding as they stood in formation in the middle of the field.
“Make sure you’re standing in front of the tunnel,” I direct them. “There’s someone I need to get in the shot.”
My eyes gravitate towards the photo of Gramps that still remains above the tunnel.
But now, I’ve added a slight addition. A saying. One that reads:
“Ira Matthews: Always believed in The Underdog.”
I flash the picture to capture their smiling faces, and right before I’m about to put my camera away, Warren reaches an arm out towards me and calls out.
“Hey! You’re on this team, too. Remember?”
The boys chime in agreement. “Yeah, join us, Delaney!” Green shouts out excitedly.
“Unless you’re too cool for us now,” Hart adds, prompting me to shake my head in laughter.
I hand my camera over to one of my PR interns. “Mind if you take this?”
She smiles, nodding agreeably.
I join the photo, standing right beside Warren as he tucks me into his arm.
“Happy?” I smile up at him.
“I don’t think I could be any more.”
